When I called her back, I had no idea how the conversation would go. Because I thought she’d called to check-in, to suggest we get together soon, spend an hour over lunch catching up on life. I was wrong.
She’d called because her life was in shambles. She’d called because she needed to talk to someone. She’d called because she was mad at God and she was looking for answers.
I could tell from the tone of her voice, from the silent tears I knew were streaming down her face, that my words could make a difference. Could affect how she thinks and acts going forward. My words? In moments like these I really do wonder if God knows what he’s doing. But my doubt is momentary; I do believe He does, even when I don’t.
I certainly don’t understand the ways in which God works. But I do sometimes feel a push in my gut, an alarm in my head if you will, stirring me to realize the need to act. So I did what I often do when faced with such a situation. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and asked God to get me through it.
And then I went for it. Let go of my worries about saying the right thing or having all the answers or knowing what I was doing. I just tried my best to help her. I tried to listen, understand, and empathize. I shared what I do when I am lost, afraid, mad. I told her I’d pray for her.
It’s been a few months now and my friend is doing well. Her troubles have not left her but she is coping. I’ve prayed for her every day. And now looking back, I really don’t even remember what I said, or if we want to get technical, what God said to her through me. I also have no idea if my words helped or hindered or made any difference. We’ve never discussed it. And really, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that in this instance I followed God’s lead.