By Mike Glenn

I had the passages in my Bible marked. I had my notes pressed tightly between the pages of my Bible. I was doing a graveside funeral, and if you’re not careful, an unexpected gust of wind will send your notes flying all over the cemetery. I found my place at the head of the grave and waited for the pallbearers to bring the casket into place.

Actually, it was just one pallbearer.

An older gentleman walked from the hearse to the open grave and placed the small casket on the stand. The pallbearer was the child’s grandfather, doing what his son had wanted to do but couldn’t.

The casket was about two feet long and held a couple’s little boy who had died shortly after birth. They had asked me to do the funeral. Now people gathered around the young couple, and they all looked at me.

And I didn’t know what to say.

He had been fighting cancer for years. He had been diagnosed, treated, and then, after five years, declared “cured.” We had forgotten about the cancer, but cancer didn’t forget about my friend. After all of those years, after all of the treatments, and after all of our prayers—he wasn’t going to make it. He held my hand and smiled at me through the oxygen mask.

He died.

And I didn’t know what to say.

He had been a pastor longer than I had. He had been a successful pastor, but the church thought if they brought in a younger pastor, they would reach their younger neighbors. The church fired my friend. He sat in my office and grieved a life given to ministry that had been weighed and judged by a church committee and found wanting. He wiped his eyes, took a deep breath, and looked at me. He was waiting for me to say something.

And I didn’t know what to say.

I make my living with words. More than that, I make my living knowing the right words. I’m the guy who’s supposed to know what to say. When people gather together, find their seat, and finally settle down, they look at me. I’ll have something to say. I’m supposed to know a lot about God, good and evil, grace and mercy, hope and glory—and I do. There are times, however, when life hits so hard and suddenly, like a wave at the beach, you find yourself gasping for air and trying to find bottom.

So what do you do when, as a preacher, you don’t know what to say? You go back to the place where you did know what to say. Like being swept under by an unseen wave, you paddle back to the last place you could touch bottom.

And where is the last place I could touch bottom?

I know God is real. Since my childhood, I’ve always known God was there. Don’t ask me how, but I’ve always known. I’ve never had a crisis of faith—I’ve had several crises of obedience—but I’ve always known God is there. Apologetics have always been difficult for me. I’ve always found it difficult to try and explain what I found to be self-evident. I know that’s not everyone, but that’s just me. I stand up and say the one thing I know: God is there.

And I know God is good. There is beauty to creation that can’t be explained without the artistry of God. There is a love and mercy in Christ that flows through the Son from the heart of the Father. I know God, in mercy, wouldn’t put more on us than we can bear in Him. I know He’s always working out His loving purposes even in those moments when I don’t understand.

Yet sometimes I don’t understand.

I don’t understand why children suffer. I don’t understand why good people have such bad things happen to them. I don’t understand why so many evil people never seem to face the justice they deserve. I just don’t understand it, but I don’t have to understand. I only have to trust. I know God is there, and I know God is good. I know God won’t be defeated in the accomplishment of His divine work. I’m confident the final victory belongs to Christ and Christ alone.

These are things I know. This is what I preach when I don’t know what to say.

When I find myself in a place where I don’t know what to say, I go back to the place where I do know:

I know God is there.
I know God is good.

I can preach this when I can’t preach anything else. ❖

Mike Glenn is Senior Pastor of Brentwood Baptist Church in suburban Nashville, Tennessee, and a contributing editor of Preaching.