Spare Me the Platitudes: How to Respond When Your Friend Is in Pain
Written by Allana Walker, Canada
The subject line told me everything I needed to know, but I clicked on the email anyway:
Thank you again for your interest in our company! We greatly appreciate the time you took to speak with us and the opportunity we had to hear more about your background and experience, but unfortunately, we have decided to pursue other candidates.
Translation: Thank you for all the time and energy you’ve poured into this job application, but we’ve decided not to hire you after all.
The rejection didn’t surprise me. My last interview had not gone the way I’d hoped. The interviewers’ flat expressions and monotone responses gave me a nagging suspicion that they had mentally scratched my name off their list halfway through the Zoom call. Still, after a month of pouring my heart and soul into that job application, the rejection email felt like a bad April Fool’s joke.
It’s not worth it, I told myself, trying to steady my quivering chin. It’s just one closed door. They come with the territory. There will be plenty of other opportunities.
But all my best rationalizations couldn’t stop the tears from welling in my eyes. Soon the cuffs of my sleeves were stained with mascara-tinted tears as I sunk into my chair and buried my face in my hands.
I went to bed that night hoping that sleep would ease my sorrow. It didn’t.
I struggled to keep my tears in check at work the next day. If I paused for even a minute, my chin trembled and my breathing grew shallow. At 5:30 pm, I finally gave vent to my dismay in the privacy of my car, bawling my eyes out in a Walmart parking lot.
What kind of hot mess am I? I sobbed, lowering my visor to examine my tear-stained face in the mirror. No wonder they didn’t want to hire me.
Wiping the makeup smudges off my cheeks, I dried my eyes, steadied my breathing, and drove downtown for my Tuesday-night Bible study, bracing myself for a round of unwanted condolences.
With each re-announcement of the rejection, my friends smiled or shrugged, offering me some well-meaning but unhelpful platitude:
“Oh well, I guess it wasn’t meant to be!”
“Obviously, it wasn’t God’s will.”
“Hey, you never know what God’s protecting you from!”
“Oh, I’m so sorry—but don’t worry, there will be other opportunities!”
You don’t know that! I thought bitterly, pursing my lips to keep my pain in check. This was the first job posting I had seen in a year and a half that I had been genuinely excited about—not just interested in, but dancing-around-my-living-room excited about.
A full-time writing gig with a Christian publisher? With paid time off and benefits? Yes, please!!
And now I’d ruined my chances of getting it. Who knew when I’d see another job posting like that?
With each trite, “Cheer up!” response, I felt myself retreating further into my shell. I didn’t want platitudes. I wanted someone to feel the weight of my disappointment and sit with me in it.
Let Me Grieve, For Goodness Sake
Rationally, I knew that everything my friends said was true. The pain would pass. But in that moment, all I wanted was someone to cry with me.
You see, that job opportunity represented more than just a potential “next step” in my career. For this struggling freelancer, it represented a new beginning. A fresh start. Potentially, a new life.
Just hours before I saw the job posting, I’d poured out a laundry list of frustrations to the Lord, begging Him for a clean slate. I was so exasperated by all the challenges in my personal life that I just wanted to run away from them all.
Then this job listing landed in my inbox, and I assumed God had answered my prayers.
Things progressed so quickly, too. Less than twenty-four hours after I submitted my initial application form, I received an email requesting two writing samples and an introductory video. The day after I submitted my samples, I was invited to schedule an interview—and it was the best interview of my life. At that point, I thought I had the job in the bag, so I mentally started packing up and moving out.
Then, after a month of green lights, the sudden “Road Closed” sign left me slamming my brakes in confusion.
A Friend Loves At All Times: In Weeping and Rejoicing
During Bible study that Tuesday night, my bitterness and disappointment left me uncharacteristically taciturn. I didn’t banter with my friends or contribute to the discussion as I normally did. My heart was too heavy to joke around. It was all I could do to wait for a chance to excuse myself without appearing rude.
When I finally seized the opportunity to slip out, one of my best friends followed me into the kitchen and approached me as I gathered up my things.
“Hey,” she said softly, “I’m really sorry I responded the way I did earlier.”
Next thing I knew, the two of us were sitting on the kitchen floor as I cried on her shoulder. As my tears ran dry, she listened while I explained what the job had meant to me and why the rejection cut so deep.
My friend realized that what I needed most in that moment was not a platitude—“God’s got big plans for you!”—but the reassurance that God was at work in my life and that my “for now” was not “forever”. Her willingness to sit with me in my grief—to weep with me as I wept, as Paul calls us to do in Romans 12:15—demonstrated the love of Christ to me better than a thousand words of encouragement ever could.
Allana is a writer and editor from Atlantic, Canada. She loves singing, baking sourdough, and exploring the beautiful East Coast. She is passionate about Christian theology, mental health, and human flourishing. You can read more of her writing on her Substack here or connect with her on Instagram: @allanawalker_writer.
