The innadequacy of words

I just returned from visiting someone who is dying. Bart was moved to hospice yesterday, and he is probably not going to make it through the weekend. He has a rare lung disease, and he has cancer in his liver and kidney.

His wife Edna was frightened. It seemed most disconcerting that they were giving him morphine, because in her mind giving someone morphine means that it is the beginning of the end of life. Bart was barely coherent, but Edna was scared.

When it was time for me to leave, I asked Edna if I could pray for her. I started to pray, and every word I seemed to utter seemed to be so inadequate. I started to doubt myself. I started to doubt I had the words right. I started to doubt I even had her name right, even though we had spoken several times.

Yet, when we got done praying, she started sharing conversations her and Bart had recently about when he dies. I always see this as a good sign, especially when it connects with the prayer I prayed. When prayer prompts thought and memory, I tend to trust the Holy Spirit is active in ways I cannot describe with words.

As I left, I started to think about the nature of these kinds of visits. It does not matter how many hospitals I have been to, I am always on the edge of my seat as I visit someone in them. It does not matter how many classes I have taken about dealing with death, when the death angel is in the room my words seem pitiful. I feel helpless.

Leading worship often creates the same experience. I do not want to go through the moments as I am in worship. I want my words to be led by God's Spirit. Yet, there are many times when Iam praying over the offering or leading the invocation that my words seem very hollow.

Maybe I am helpless, and maybe my words are hollow. But, I also believe that words have power. Power to heal, strengthen, and comfort. Power to hurt and harm. And it is by God's grace that somehow he take the words of my heart and communicate them as love and grace to someone else. A miracle.