Part 10 Episode 230 How much are you currently relying on the nourishing milk of the word? In this episode of Light + Truth, John Piper opens Hebrews 5:11–14 to help us understand just how much we need the Bible in order to grow to maturity.

We all want to help when our friends are hurting, but we may not be sure where to begin. Do we give them space and tell them to call if they need anything, or do we dive in and try to fix everything? Do we ask questions, or do we wait for them to initiate and speak? While the answers are unique to each person and situation, I’ve learned a great deal from my ministry to suffering people (as well as from my own experiences of loss).

The first thing God calls us to do for our hurting friends is to pray. It may be helpful to divide our prayer into three areas — their spiritual, physical, and emotional needs. So, we can pray that they would turn to the Lord Jesus and find peace in him even in their trial. We might pray for daily strength, physical healing, and financial provision. And we could pray that they not feel anxious or afraid, and that they’d be surrounded by caring friends.

We can also pray for ourselves. I ask the Lord to prompt me to pray for hurting friends regularly and to show me what to pray. I also ask him to help me fulfill my good intentions and to make my efforts toward them fruitful (2 Thessalonians 1:11).

In addition to prayer, though, there are other tangible ways to minister to hurting friends. Four ways that I’ve found particularly helpful are represented by the acronym SLOW. That acronym reinforces that God is working even though change seems slow, and it reminds me that I need to be slow to speak and quick to listen (James 1:19).

Show Up

Having people show up is critical in the early days of loss and even long afterward. God created us to live in community. It is not good for us to be alone. We need each other, and wanting company is not a sign of weakness. Even Jesus wanted friends with him in his anguish, asking them to wait, watch, and pray (Mark 14:32–35).

In Job, we see the importance of this presence. When Job’s friends first heard of his enormous suffering, “they made an appointment together to come and show him sympathy and comfort him” (Job 2:11). They didn’t remain at a distance. “They raised their voices and wept” with him (Job 2:12).

“Just being there can give people strength to move forward, knowing that they are not alone.”

Sometimes we don’t show up because we don’t know what we’ll say. But we don’t need to have eloquent words, or any words — just our presence and love. Personally, I always welcome dark chocolate or salty snacks, but we don’t need to bring anything. Just being there can give people strength to move forward, knowing that they are not alone.

Listen

Few people are anxious to hear mini-sermons in the midst of their pain. Most would prefer to have friends listen or just sit with them in silence. On this score, Job’s friends were a good example (at least for seven days) when they sat with Job without saying a word (Job 2:13).

For the rest of the book, however, they berated him till he begged, “Listen closely to what I’m saying. That’s one consolation you can give me. Bear with me with me, and let me speak . . .” (Job 21:1–2 NLT). Rather than compassionately listening, Job’s friends kept offering advice and cliché theology.

Job knew his words were raw. He wanted his friends to listen as he processed his questions and losses aloud rather than arguing with him. He asked, “Do you intend to rebuke my words, when the words of one in despair belong to the wind?” (Job 6:26 NASB). Part of listening well in moments like these is patiently letting people speak without interrupting or judging them, prayerfully listening to their pain, and letting some of their complaints be as words to the wind. Listening allows people to lament and sit in the dark parts of their grief without trying to fix it or expecting them to rush through it.

The best counselors actively listen, not immediately giving advice or critique, but rather offering space for people to process their emotions and experiences. They ask thoughtful questions, pay attention to verbal and nonverbal responses, and offer reflections on what they notice. Offering that type of listening to our friends may be more healing and life-giving than anything else we do.

Offer Specific Help

Offering physical help is time consuming, and it’s easy to assume other people are taking care of those needs. But God calls us to care for our brothers and sisters rather than just telling them to go in peace without providing for their physical needs (James 2:15–16). Pray about what God would have you offer, considering the person’s needs as well as your own abilities and limitations. Sometimes our Lord calls us to give beyond what feels comfortable (2 Corinthians 8:3–5), but he also promises to supply the strength we need (1 Peter 4:10–11).

For our suffering friends, everyday tasks may feel monumental. Yet they often don’t know what they need or even what might be helpful. When we offer specific ways that we can help, we are serving them in multiple ways.

“While offering help requires forethought and sacrifice, the value to our friends often far exceeds our effort.”

Often, what they need is as simple as walking their dog, dropping off a meal, or babysitting their children for a few hours. Offering gift certificates for food-delivery services is also a great substitute for homemade meals. If you enjoy doing yardwork, are good with computers, or like folding laundry or doing anything else, offer your help in those areas. Or consider offering a block of time by saying, “I have Thursday from 2:00 to 4:00 free. Can I run some errands or help you with anything then?” While offering help requires forethought and sacrifice, the value to our friends often far exceeds our effort.

Words of Grace

Offering words of grace at the right time, spoken or written, can encourage others in their faith just as Jonathan helped David find strength in God (1 Samuel 23:16).

Timing is important, and there are some words that are better to avoid. Saying anything that begins with “at least,” offering false assurances, or encouraging people to “look on the bright side” can feel minimizing. Even sound advice or Scripture offered at the wrong time can feel insensitive. Romans 8:28 has deeply shaped my theology, but it felt heartless hearing it from a friend at my son’s funeral. That day, I longed for sympathy and understanding.

While throwing Bible verses and theology at people can be overwhelming at times, that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t share our faith. We should be eager to tell people the reason for our hope, but we should do it tenderly, with gentleness and respect (1 Peter 3:15–16). And after we share how God has met us in our own struggles, we can trust that the Holy Spirit will use our words. We needn’t belabor the point or press for a response.

When I talk about my faith, I often share three truths that have encouraged me in the pit. The first truth is that we have God’s presence. We know that Jesus is always with us — preparing us, strengthening us, and upholding us (Isaiah 41:10) — and nothing can separate us from his love (Romans 8:38–39). The second truth is that our suffering is not meaningless. God is using it both for our good and for his glory (Genesis 50:20; Romans 8:28), and nothing and no one can thwart his divine purposes (Job 42:2). The final truth that I cling to is that my real home is in heaven (John 14:2–3), where there will be no more tears or crying or pain (Revelation 21:4).

Come Close

If you have a friend who is struggling and don’t know how to help, perhaps start by getting together. Be prepared to come close — not standing on the edge, waiting to be asked, but willingly entering the messiness of pain. It probably means listening and praying more than speaking, along with offering specific help as you are able. It also means being willing to share the hope and comfort that God has given you, confident that your witness will not be in vain.

Your friend’s healing may seem slow, but trust that God is using your efforts in ways that will one day shine in glory.

There was a bucket of electric bouncy balls, not a baby, in my stomach. He just never stopped moving. Usually the jabs and kicks gave me comfort — “Call the doctor if you haven’t felt the baby move in a while,” they say. I had no reason to pick up the phone, so instead I came up with one that would keep me up all night.

“I wonder why he moves so much,” I said to my husband before bed. As he reached for the lights, I grabbed my phone. What does it mean if your baby moves a lot? I typed into Google. My stomach dropped as I read the first result: “High Fetal Movement Associated with Stillbirth.”

Like I said, I didn’t sleep that night.

Psalms and Search Engines

I wonder how many twenty-first-century tech-saturated Christian mothers, like myself, abide by their own translation of Philippians 4:6: “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything let your requests be made known to Google.” When we remove prayer, supplication, thanksgiving, and — above all — God from the equation, we forfeit all chance of experiencing any lasting end to our motherly anxiety. We cannot type, scroll, click, and read our way to peace. There is no “peace of Google,” only the peace of God (Philippians 4:7). And for that, we must pray.

Which can be quite difficult for expectant mothers to do. Burdened for the children we cannot hold but deeply love, our minds tend to tumble down hypothetical rabbit holes: “How long has it been since the baby kicked? Shouldn’t the kicks be harder? Is the baby really growing? Am I eating enough? How much should I be eating?” Pounding heart, tight lips, it seems far easier to search, our fingers frantic, than to seek God in prayer.

That’s where the book of Psalms comes in. For millennia, restless saints have fled to its pages. When we lack our own words, enough calm, or even the desire to pray, the Psalms hand us hundreds of ways to talk to God. Consider, for example, how an anxious expectant mother might use Psalm 139 to pray for herself and her unborn child.

‘You See’

Because of the sheer fact that we cannot see our unborn babies, we often imagine what could be wrong. With the help of Psalm 139, we can turn from anxiety to adoration. King David’s words call us to wonder, rather than worry, over what man cannot see, as we praise God that his eyes keep watch over the children in our womb.

In the spirit of the psalm, we can begin by focusing on God’s omniscience over our blindness. “O Lord,” we might pray, “you have searched and known not only me, but also my child. You know when I sit; you know when my child stirs. You are acquainted with all our ways, from the words I will say soon, to the organ that will form next. In a word, your hand is upon us” (verses 1–5). What is dark to mothers — the womb, our unborn children, what lies ahead — is light to him (verse 12). Anxious about what we cannot see, we can adore the God who never stops seeing.

Nor has he ever not seen. His knowledge of our unborn children never began; it has always been: “Your eyes saw this child’s unformed substance an eternity before the pregnancy test came back positive. No part of this process has ever been hidden from your sight” (verses 15–16). As we say these words to our all-seeing God, we send them coursing through our unseeing selves. Wonder is a great antidote to worry.

‘You Are Sovereign’

Not only does God see what goes on within our stomachs and lives; he sovereignly oversees it all. We know we cannot watch our unborn babies grow, but that doesn’t stop us from thinking we can control our pregnancy, at least in some measure. That’s why we often flit from one search to the next — for control. We can praise God for so much access to life-sustaining information (it’s probably wise not to eat raw fish if every health institute says so), but we must not deceive ourselves. While we carry our children, God is in control of them.

Psalm 139 offers a fitting reminder, as David attributes action upon action, outcome upon outcome, to God alone. With David we declare, “You form this child’s inward parts; you knit this baby together in my womb. I praise you for the fearful and wonderful works of pregnancy. You are making and weaving this little person together” (verses 13–15). A pregnant mother can attend to the atoms in her unborn baby’s body no more than she can touch the moon — thankfully. We have not the power to form, to knit, to make, to weave. But our God does, and we have his ear.

What’s more, David affirms how God forms both bodies and days. Before the foundation of the world, God not only chose to create our children, but he determined the length of their lives. Through prayer we say to God and ourselves, “In your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for this baby” (verse 16).

God didn’t pen our children’s stories into a dusty three-ring notebook, the kind that are always lying around, and then slam it shut. David says, “In your book were written.” Expectant mothers, our Father has a book! He is ever aware of its tales, of the lives of our unborn children (and everyone else). For what he has written, he will bring to pass. Whatever this trimester may hold, may our prayers lean into the sovereign God who holds it.

‘You Are There’

By this point, it’s easy to agree with David about the extent of God’s knowledge and power. His attributes are “too wonderful for [us],” too “high” to grasp and grip (verse 6). At the same time, Psalm 139 encourages mothers to rest assured that he is with us, in all his great and mysterious perfections.

David teaches us this lesson by taking us on a trip around the universe. He imagines himself up in heaven and down in Sheol (verse 8), east as the sunrise and west as the seas (verse 9). In each place, he finds God there. Amazingly, the Lord does not arrive after David, but leads David there himself (verse 10).

After David’s example, we can imagine ourselves walking through a hundred different high and low points of pregnancy (an exercise that may run our emotions through a pinball machine). Picture a doctor gesturing at a dot of flashing white, tears of joy springing to our eyes. There’s a heartbeat. A month later, that heartbeat seems too low, even inconsistent. We cry again, this time for fear.

Step back from each hypothetical. Turn to God and say, “During ultrasounds, you are there! Through worry-ridden nights, you are there! In the hospital room, you are there! Come what may, you are with me wherever I go, leading me, guiding me, holding me” (verse 8). As we praise his presence, his presence comforts us.

‘Protect This Child’

Toward the end of the psalm, after David has adored the all-seeing, sovereign God who is in his midst, he turns to petition, earnestly pleading for God to act (verses 19–22). Confident that God is over his life, he asks God to intervene in his life. In the same way, the more a mother recalls the power of God both to take and to give life, the more she will ask God to protect the child in her womb.

We pray confidently for God to protect our unborn children because we are confident that he can protect them. We ask him to decrease blood pressure, to increase growth, to remove hemorrhages, to induce labor — all because he can. And so we pray, with every mother’s blood-earnestness and a Christian mother’s confidence, “Oh that you would protect this child, O God!”

He delights in a mother’s pleas for her unborn child, which are themselves expressions of worship. We petition him because we know he is with us, listening to our cries. We petition him because we know that only an all-knowing, all-powerful God is able to sustain the babies in our bellies. We petition him because we know he loves those babies, more than we could understand.

Ought God’s thoughts about this pregnancy, then, be more precious to us than Google’s (verse 17)? A single search may produce 239,000,000 results (I just checked), but even that number has an end, a limit, a boundary. God’s knowledge is infinite, vaster than the sands on every shore (verse 18). His power, presence, and ability to protect likewise know no end. And — can you believe it? — this God is with us.