REACH OUT IN PRIVATE
We are most free when away from the public eye. When someone really touches another’s heart, they do it in private when their defenses are down. The problem is, we rarely reach out to each other privately. We’re accustomed to meeting up across the sanctuary, or in a lobby, or in a grocery store. We ask the other person how they are doing and assure them we have been thinking about them and praying for them. It is only mildly comforting. Those same words would have been so much more effective if we’d put them in a card and mailed it, or delivered a batch of muffins to their door and spoken the same words.
In 1982, my mother was diagnosed with inoperable cancer. A year later, Ron’s mother dropped dead unexpectedly and mine lost her battle with cancer nine months later. We said goodbye to both mothers within a year of each other. Our loss was staggering. We were young and both unequipped to know how to walk that journey which included grieving.
One morning, I was home vacuuming and the phone rang. It was an older woman from our congregation whom I had seen on Sunday. She usually made a habit of speaking to me. On this weekday though, she made an unforgettable gesture and offered enduring words. This is what she said. “I was going about my day, Christine, and it hit me that you and Ron are losing both your mothers at the same time. I stopped what I was doing to take that in. That’s crushing and so much to deal with for a young married couple. I don’t have any magic words but I wanted you to know that I noticed, I am hurting with you, and I care.” I thanked her, I was awkward, but oh did it mean a lot to me. Here’s the thing ~ if she had said those same things in the church lobby the Sunday before, it wouldn’t have made the impact it did on a Tuesday because she had stopped her routine, thought about us, and made the effort to reveal that.
Some things can only be done effectively in private. I think about Joseph who was overcome by the sight of his brothers after so many years apart. He was Vice-chancellor of Egypt but they didn’t yet know it was him. Joseph was trying to contain his emotions at the sight of them; understandable since they were the very ones who had treated him cruelly and sold him into slavery. So he excused himself from the feast and here’s the verse that references it. Genesis 43:30 Then Joseph hurried out, for his compassion grew warm for his brother, and he sought a place to weep. So he entered his chamber and wept there.
Why do I reach out to others publicly? It’s safe, convenient, and emotionally protective but it shouldn’t be about me. The most honest pain someone else feels is what they feel in private. When they are approached there, I will probably access their authentic selves and the part of them that is potentially raw. I need to know that I don’t have to eloquent, just real.
So make a note on Sunday of who it is that needs encouragement and send yourself a text reminder. Then, ask God how to express love and care sometime that week. The sky’s the limit for ways to reach the heart where Jesus can leave His imprint.
How many people did you talk to privately? You waited until they were alone – even the Samaritan woman at the well. You risked both your reputations. Guide my creativity as I think of being more vulnerable and personal. Amen
When we consider the well known phrase, “I’m sorry for your loss,” the context is usually a funeral. There are so many other kinds of losses to be grieved though. Loss of a home, loss of a job, loss of good health, loss of a marriage, loss of the ability to bear children, loss of trust, even loss of innocence. With each kind there is grieving to be done.
As I always should, I look to Jesus to show me how He gave empathy first and answers last. The most obvious story is the one where Jesus wept tears of grief at the gravesite of His friend, Lazarus. He didn’t give a eulogy about Lazarus or a sermon on death’s curse. He heard the wailing and entered in to weep deeply with Mary and Martha. Jesus is our great High Priest. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Hebrews 4:15 What’s comforting about that is Jesus knows how I feel because He subjected Himself to life in this world. He could have stayed in heaven, continued to inspire writers to pen scripture, and assure mankind that He knows how the human body handles pain because He created us. That would have been only mildly comforting. He knew I needed more than a God who just understands how I am wired. I needed an Emmanuel who would show me that He understands the complex emotional landscape of human beings. As the incarnate God, He modeled a rich emotional life with displays of grief, joy, and everything in between. I am a stoic by comparison.
Pain isolates us from other people and we begin to believe that no one has ever gone through what we are experiencing and that what we are feeling is unique. We feel lonely. Is there anything worse than believing you are alone and no one cares or understands?