Last night I received a text message from a young lady asking if she could vent. I was in the middle of packing our house for our move next saturday so I told her that she could write as much as she wanted but because I was busy I wouldn't be able to respond.
When I got back to my phone I had fifteen messages from her. I could sense her anguish increasing with each word. She described multiple situations that alone could be enough to send someone over the edge of sanity. In her last message she wrote that she was finished until I responded.
I struggled with what I should write. Comfort seemed trite. Hope seemed bizarre. Advice seemed disparaging. I prayed asking the almighty to speak through me. Then I wrote and the only words that came to mind:
"It is like you are being put through the torture device that pulls each of your limbs in a different direction. You're being ripped apart."
I didn't know how that would be received, but awhile later I got a message from her telling me my message was the exact thing she needed to hear. Just to know that someone understood. I was thankful I had prayed about it first. Who knows what sort of things I would have come up with if left to my own imagination. God always knows the right things to say. In this case I was just the messenger.