I’ve been thinking a lot about compassion lately. I spend most Mondays through Fridays working as a hospice chaplain—or, as we are now called, a Spiritual Caregiver.
As I visit those whose life expectancy is short, I listen to their stories, sit with their families, offer encouragement where I can, share scripture from the Good Book, sometimes sing, and always pray. Depending on the patient, there are times when I just sit quietly, offering compassionate presence.
Compassionate presence. That was a new term for me, but a concept I came to understand and appreciate almost fifteen years ago. This October will mark exactly fifteen years.
If you know the story of Job in the Bible, you’ll likely understand why I like to say that Job’s friends did a good job until they began to talk. Compassionate presence is what Job’s friends should have offered instead of talking. Just being there. Just listening. Just affirming. Not fixing. Not moralizing. Not offering false comfort.
Losing a wife and a son in a horrific double murder is a level of trauma and chaos that is hard to describe and even harder to imagine. This isn’t the time or place for some of the more salacious details, but trust me when I say that even fifteen years later, it is still a shock to the senses.
While I’ve written elsewhere about the aftermath of such a horrific loss, I’m incredibly thankful for the people who surrounded us with love, care, and concern. The battle not to succumb to victimhood began soon after that fateful day.
But as hard as it was, we survived and ultimately thrived. That brings me back to compassionate presence.
The people who tried to fix it or make it better failed miserably. No amount of words or configuration could soften the blow. In fact, they often made it worse. I remember one response in particular: “I lost a dog once, so I know exactly how you feel.” I suspect you can hear how ludicrous those words sounded. No dog, no matter how beloved, could equal the loss of a wife, son, mother, or brother.
For the rest of my life, I hope compassionate presence becomes my default when encountering difficult trauma, drama, and loss. I can do no less than sit in the ashes with those who hurt.
Let me challenge you to do the same. Somewhere, someone needs you to sit with them in their pain. Your simple presence may offer the comfort they need.
“Therefore, as God’s chosen ones, holy and dearly loved, put on compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another if anyone has a grievance against another. Just as the Lord has forgiven you, so you are also to forgive.” (Colossians 3:12-13 CSB)
Les Ferguson, Jr. is a minister and faith-based author. He can be reached at lfergusonjr@gmail.com
