Laura's call came late in the afternoon. "I just heard my dad died today. He dropped over from a heart attack," she told me, almost hysterical. "I didn't know who to call, so I called you." I quickly rallied some friends to be with her. More people kept stopping by when they heard. We cried, we prayed and we hugged. She was clinging to the Lord. It was a painful time, but it was good. Death had come to campus and the fellowship was responding.

It could have been very different. I remember a freshman whose sister had contracted cancer. As soon as she found out, she raced to the chapter president's room and told him and his roommate. They prayed with her, but didn't say a lot. She went away feeling a little empty, struggling with the question, "How could God let this happen?" She received little comfort. But she was especially hurt when her sister died the following summer and no one from the chapter came to the funeral. Most didn't even know it had happened. When she came back to campus in the fall, no one mentioned it much to her. She grew distant from the fellowship and bitter toward the Lord.

Why is it so hard to know what to say to someone in grief? One reason may be that if grief and loss are out of our realm of experience, we don't know what words will help our grieving friends. What if we say the wrong thing, or make the situation worse?

To most college students, death seems far off. And when death does strike, we're reminded of our own mortality, and our fears rise. We don't want the reality of death to interfere with our carefully constructed lives. So we feel like backing away. Unfortunately, this survival instinct can isolate a grieving person even more.

So how do we minister to the grieving?

Be there. When I was a senior in college, my wife died of leukemia. Marj and I had been married four months. Right after she died, four friends drove two hours just to be with me. They stayed for a couple of days, listened to my sorrow, wept with me and prayed with me. They also served by calling others and helping with details I couldn't handle. They were a great comfort.

Stay involved. When the funeral is over and the shock wears off, life goes back to normal for everyone except the one grieving. It can seem like everyone else has forgotten the loss. But that's when the tough "grief work" begins. You can help a friend through the various stages of grief that may include denial, anger, depression, or panic. These feelings are all normal. Often a gentle inquiry is all that is needed to draw someone out.

Offer hope. Let's face it: death is painful. But as Christians, we know that death is a step toward resurrection. And the reality of resurrection gives us the assurance that we'll live on eternally with the One who gave us life in the first place.

Hope is knowing that God loves us and is in control of all that happens, even though suffering is a mystery to us. Real faith means we can trust God even without all the answers.

Hope comes in small, daily increments. When my wife died, my friends gave me a lot of sympathy and encouragement. They reminded me that the Lord was constantly with me. My friends told me that gradually the pain would lessen and I would make it through. I gradually rebuilt my life, and that ravaging experience with death has made me more compassionate and sensitive. God brought something good out of something that was very painful.

Intercede for your friend. Only God can give hope. Only God can heal. Intercede regularly for your friend over the long process of healing. And also pray with him or her. You may be able to express to God something that he or she has a hard time putting into words.

God can use you in the life of a grieving person. You may be afraid, but remember that throughout Scripture fear and faith move ahead together, even in those awful times when death comes to campus.