(Scripture Reference: Job 2:11–13, 42:7–10)
Job’s friends saw him. When was the last time you felt truly, deeply seen? The Gen Z Bible makes it plain: they rolled up from their own hood, tore their clothes, threw dust in the air, then “chilled with him for a whole week…not saying anything.” They saw devastation. They kept presence. They offered the ministry I fear we have forgotten—the ministry of just showing up.
This season we wrap gifts in shiny paper. Yet the best gift remains sight. Not eyesight but soul sight. The gift of letting somebody know, “I see your joy. I see your pain. I see the tears drowning your spirit. I see you.”
Many walk through our city like that man at the Gate Beautiful in Acts 3. Nobody stops. Nobody looks. Nobody speaks life. So heads stay low. Eyes stay closed. Spirits stay silent. We get nervous when we start seeing too much. We rush in with advice, clichés, theology that sounds good but cuts deep. Eighteen years in ministry taught me this: folk say wild things at moments of grief and loss because it scares them. Death forces us to confront our own mortality. After my grandmother died, a counselor told me, “We are a resurrection people, yet we do everything we can to avoid or outrun death. Crucifixion precedes resurrection.” That word still arrests me. We are passing through.
Grief will “sneak” you at Christmastime. At birthdays. In random aisles at Schnucks. Nothing you say will fix that. So breathe. Calm your spirit. Sit with me. Put your arm around me. Stop trying to save me. We already have a Savior.
James calls the tongue a restless evil. Gossip has killed more reputations than bullets. Yet Job prayed for his friends. God gave him double. Settlement with interest. Workers comp for the soul. When that blessing comes, get ready to step and sing. Little Miss Sydney from our Children’s Church taught me with Pete the Cat: I Love My White Shoes. On Pete’s journey his shoes got messy. He stepped in strawberries and stepped in blueberries. Pete didn’t get upset nor complain. Guess what? Pete sang, “I love my blue shoes, I love my red shoes,” and kept stepping.
Life can and will get messy. Keep stepping and singing. Don’t let the mess steal your joy. Sit with one another. See one another. Speak less. Love more. Because after all we’ve been through—we still have joy.
The Reverend Dr. Anthony L. Riley serves as the 14th Pastor of the historic Central Baptist Church of St. Louis, the 2nd oldest Black church in St. Louis.