In April 2023, I had a snowboarding accident that changed my life. I broke both my legs and shattered my right ankle. Over the months that followed, I underwent three surgeries, including reconstructive surgery. I spent time in a wheelchair and then progressed to a walker and crutches as I started to walk again.
I am grateful that I can walk. But I am also permanently handicapped. I won’t run again. I can’t jump or move quickly, and I still frequently need crutches and use mobility devices. Pain and physical limitations are now part of my everyday life.
At the same time, there have been some meaningful signs of progress. I am able to cycle, which has become an important mental and physical outlet for me. Cycling puts enough pressure on my ankle to be therapeutic without causing further damage. It is also something I can be good at—and when I am riding my bike, I don’t feel handicapped.
I have even been able to snowboard again, although with significant limitations. I can really only use my heel-side edge, and riding causes considerable pain. But being back on the mountain matters to me, and that pain is a price I am willing to pay.
Throughout my injury and recovery, many people cared for me and my family in beautiful ways. They brought meals, prayed for us, visited me, and helped with practical needs. I remain deeply grateful for the love we received.
There were also moments when kind and well-intentioned people said things that were not especially helpful. I don’t fault them for that. When someone is hurting, many of us don’t know how to respond. Sometimes people avoid the hurting person, or they minimize their pain by saying it could have been worse, or by offering reassurances they can’t guarantee. Another common response is trying to explain why God must have allowed it to happen.
My experience has made me think more carefully about how we minister to people who are suffering. Here are a few things I have learned.
1. Don’t Ignore It
When someone has experienced a tragedy, disability, death, diagnosis, or other major loss, we may be tempted to remain silent because we are afraid of saying the wrong thing. Maybe you assume the person “needs space.” But silence can unintentionally communicate indifference. Saying something is always better than pretending nothing happened.
You do not need profound words. Your words aren’t going to fix the situation – but your lack of acknowledgement can cause offense. Acknowledgement of the person’s pain, on the other hand, will be meaningful – perhaps very meaningful.
A simple statement such as, “I’m so sorry to hear about what happened,” can mean a great deal. It acknowledges the reality of what they are carrying, and it opens the door for them to share with you, if they want to. If you promise to pray for the person, do it! God will hear you, and it will help you process things as well.
The Bible tells us to “weep with those who weep” (Romans 12:15). That does not require us to understand everything they are experiencing or to know how their story will unfold. It simply calls us to enter, in some measure, into their sorrow.
2. Don’t Minimize or Try to Explain Their Pain
Christians sometimes feel a particular pressure to attach a spiritual explanation to suffering. We may say, “[This or that] must be why God allowed this to happen,” or, “God is going to use this in an amazing way.” We may promise, “It’s going to be okay.”
Those statements are usually motivated by faith and kindness. Some may even prove true in time. But in the immediate aftermath of suffering, they can sound like a trite attempt to tidy up something that is still devastatingly messy.
We should be cautious about claiming to know why God has allowed a particular trial. Scripture assures us that God is good, sovereign, and able to work through suffering – but that does not authorize us to explain every painful event from God’s perspective.
The most cathartic thing someone said to me after my injury was: “That really sucks. I’m sorry. How are you feeling about it?” It did not minimize the loss, rush toward a resolution, or turn the conversation into a theological lesson. It gave me room to be honest.
Sometimes the most spiritual thing you can do is acknowledge that something is truly terrible and then listen. The Bible addresses suffering with incredible intellectual integrity; it say that bad things are genuinely bad – so bad that God himself had to come to rescue us from it and make all things right.
3. Be Willing to Sit with Someone in Their Lament
When I was in the height of my pain after my accident, I had a visitor who stated that, when they came to visit me, all I did was complain. They felt that this brought undue negativity into their day. I’m sure they were right about me complaining; I was grieving the loss of abilities I had assumed I would possess for the rest of my life. I was in pain, on medication, dependent on others, and uncertain about my future. I thought I could process that grief with them.
Hurting people do not always need correction or a more positive perspective. Sometimes they need the freedom to say, “This hurts. I hate this. I don’t understand why this happened.”
The Psalms show us that God is not threatened by honest lament. Again and again, faithful people bring Him their confusion, frustration, sorrow, and even their complaints. God is willing to listen to hurting people lament; we should be willing to do the same.
Job’s friends did their best ministry before they began offering explanations. They sat with him in silence for seven days because they saw that his suffering was very great (Job 2:13). Their problems began when they tried to explain what had happened and why.
Listening is not inactivity. It is a ministry of presence. It tells the hurting person, “You don’t have to carry this moment alone.”
4. Remember the Anniversaries
The date of a traumatic event often remains significant long after everyone else has moved on. An anniversary not only brings back memories of what happened – sometimes it causes wounds to be reopened and hurt again. On the one year anniversary of my accident, I remember being very discouraged by that milestone – that I wasn’t further along in recovery. That feeling hasn’t gone away with subsequent anniversaries.
Remembering the date and sending a brief message can be a meaningful act of love. You might simply say, “I know this week may be difficult, and I wanted you to know that I’m thinking about you and praying for you.”
By remembering, you communicate that their pain and their story have not been forgotten.
5. Keep Checking In
In the early days of a crisis, support often arrives in abundance. People bring meals, send messages, visit, and offer help. Over time, however, the initial wave of care naturally recedes. Everyone returns to the demands of ordinary life.
But for the person who has been injured, bereaved, or diagnosed – “ordinary life” may never fully return.
This is why it matters to check in after the meal train has ended, after the hospital visits have stopped, and after the situation is no longer new. A message several months later can be especially meaningful: “How are you doing with everything now?” or, “I know this is still affecting your life. How can I pray for you?”
Galatians 6:2 tells us, “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” Some burdens are not carried for a week or a month. Loving people well means recognizing that the need for companionship may last much longer than the crisis itself.
The Ministry of Presence
Ministering to hurting people does not require perfect words. It requires humility, compassion, patience, and a willingness to be present.
We do not have to explain their suffering. We do not have to make it sound less painful than it is. We do not have to force a redemptive lesson before they have had time to grieve. We can acknowledge what happened, sit with them in it, listen to what they need to say, and continue loving them after others have moved on.
A friend of mine, who also suffered a terrible accident, told me after my accident: “People are going to ask you what God is teaching you through this. One day, you will know the answer to that question, but it will take some time for it to be clear. Right now, this is a terrible thing you have to go through; don’t feel pressured to figure out what God is doing through this.” He was right. I have learned things through this, primarily about the nature of life, empathy for hurting people, and my own limitations and how they relate to dependance on God.
Jesus did not remain distant from human suffering. He entered into it. He wept with those who mourned, showed compassion to those in pain, and bore our griefs and sorrows Himself. When we draw near to hurting people with gentleness and patient love, we reflect something of His heart.
Theology for the People 