For the Least of These: The Way of Jesus in the Face of Pain

This post is part of an ongoing series on ministering to people in pain. Click here to see all the posts in this series.

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In Matthew 25, we find a parable of Jesus about the final judgment. He describes the King separating his own (the sheep) from those doomed to judgment (the goats). As he invites the "sheep" into his Kingdom, their inheritance, he says this, "For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me." They are clearly confused. When had they done this? And the King replies, "Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me."

Here we see Jesus' expectations clearly expressed: His disciples, those who follow Him and have surrendered their lives to Him, will naturally bear the fruit of compassion. We see this in his parables - and in an observation of His life. In His earthly ministry, Jesus repeatedly reaches with compassion into places of physical and emotional pain, loss of dignity, shame, vulnerability, and desperation. He stops and sees, he listens, he loves, he responds.

I believe our response of compassion applies to those who are emotionally vulnerable, just as it applies to those who are physically vulnerable in the parable above. It isn't hard to find pain in our world - the pain of loss or violence, of broken relationships, broken bodies, broken minds, of exploitation or injustice, of shattered dreams or distorted self-image. Pain's faces are no strangers to us.

When our lives intersect with someone in the throes of pain, we can, as Jesus' disciples, follow His pattern. We stop, we see, we listen, we love, we respond. This has been the purpose of this series - to enable us to do this better.

To minister to those who are suffering is not relegated to the "professionals" or to specified days and times. This ministry is the whole-life, full time work of all Christians, as we model God's grace and become the hands and feet of Jesus to the suffering.

There may be times when this expression of compassion necessitates calling in the aid of someone who has further training and is better equipped to handle the situation. In situations when someone is at risk of harm (from someone or to themselves), it is important to refer them to the appropriate professionals or contact the appropriate authorities.

These referrals ensure the person receives the help they need - but it does not mean our work is finished. We do not disappear. We do not wash our hands of the situation. We remember that our ministry in friendship and community meets needs no paid professional can. Our steady support, concern, and compassion will continue to remain essential through the season of pain and its subsequent healing process.

As we come to the end of our series on ministering to people in pain, I remember the ones who ministered to me during my darkest days. I remember the people who became living, breathing examples of God’s gracious presence with me, who became His love in flesh. 

They let me sit in the bucket chair in the corner of their apartment while I did more staring blankly into space than studying. They let me just be with them, lending their presence, knowing I needed company more than words. 

They got me out of bed when I wanted to disappear into sleep. They walked with me to counseling sessions. They made sure I kept eating. They prayed with me, and for me, and fought for me when I was too weak. They listened as I told them the stories of the fearful silence in the darkness. 

They sat with me in our tiny church as tears pooled in my eyes, slipped down my cheeks, and when I reached the point the tears ran out. They listened with me to the message of grace, of the God who reached down into our brokenness, who suffered, who was making all things new. 

What if my pain had scared them? What if they left when I slipped further into depression and became much less than my best self? What if they complied when I pushed them away, instead of seeing my desperation? What if they’d washed their hands of me once I started seeing a “professional”? What if they’d looked at my tears and said, “Count it all joy”—or listened to my doubts and said, “You need to have more faith”? 

I thank God that this was not my lot. These precious friends stayed with me in the dark until the light slowly dawned again. They didn’t begrudge my tears—they wept over me. They didn’t let me give up—they pushed me to keep doing what I could, to see the ministry I had at my fingertips, even as I felt inadequate. These friends ministered God’s love to me then, and they remind me now of the ways God has been redeeming my pain for His glory. 

What a high calling we have received, my friends - to, as the Church, be the loudest embodiment of God's presence and mission in the world. Our love makes His love visible. May we have His vision to see the broken and bleeding of our world, and may we have His strength and grace to live up to the call to be His hands and feet in this world.

Prayer & Scripture in Suffering

This post is part of an ongoing series on ministering to people in pain. Click here to see all posts in this series.

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When you walk through a season of pain, it does not take long until you begin to receive spiritual advice. Scriptures (often taken out of context) will be sent your direction. The recommendation to “pray more” or “just have faith” is quickly on others’ lips. Sometimes these well-intentioned efforts do more harm than good.

We’ve already talked about what not to say to someone in pain, which includes spiritual platitudes. We’ve also discussed why a theodicy (the answer to "why?") doesn't actually solve our problems. The emphasis so far has been, admittedly, in my friend’s words: “Don’t be a Bible basher.” 

After weeks of discussing how to help people in pain, we’ve finally come full circle - back to the Bible, back to prayer. We come to the question of the role they can - and should - play when someone is in pain. How should we use Scripture as we minister to the suffering? How do we pray, when we find raw hearts, with no words, with only questions and heartache?

Thanks be to God—the Bible is not a book of platitudes and feel-good sayings. It is the word of God to us in all times and places, including our deepest suffering.

In the Bible we see a picture of a God who draws near to the brokenhearted and meets them in their place of weakness. We see a God who came to earth and took on our experience of human suffering. We see our suffering Savior, who understands our pain and can truly empathize with us. We see a God who sees, a God who hears, a God who responds to our cries of desperation. When we’re sharing Scripture with someone in pain (again, within the appropriate relationship and context), we can emphasize these truths that point to our God of compassion.

“When we can find no words to carry our suffering and confusion to God, it is encouraging to find that God himself has provided words for us.”

— Gay Hubbard, More Than an Aspirin

Thanks be to God—the Bible gives us words to pray when we have none. It offers us prayers we can adopt, prayers that model boldly bringing our pain and desperation to God. 

These prayers, of course, are found in the Psalms. We call them “lament Psalms.” We can use them as we pray for people in pain—and we can share them with suffering people as a God-given model for their own prayers. They follow a general pattern (I’m using Gay Hubbard’s language below):

• Protest - This is what is wrong.

• Petition - This is how I want You to fix it.

• Praise - I trust You, even though I don’t see it yet. I remember Your faithfulness in the past, and it gives me hope for the future. I trust You will hear and respond.

When we read some of these Psalms, we're surprised. Then we paraphrase them into our own language, our own circumstance, and we're shocked. We are uncomfortable with how bold they are, with how directly they describe our distress, how boldly they appeal to God for help. We wonder if we can do that, if we're allowed to be so forward.

“We approach God as though He were an elderly, easily-shocked Victorian maiden aunt…we behave as though God were too nice for the raw, powerful, dangerous reality of our human experience.”

— Gay Hubbard, More Than an Aspirin

Miroslav Volf says these Psalms teach us that “rage belongs before God.” So do our questions, our fears, our doubts, and our sorrow. He is not afraid of them. They do not shake Him. The safest and healthiest place to bring them is before Him, directed at Him. This itself is an expression of faith—to bring our deepest, darkest emotions to the Lord.

What do we do with this?

1. When we share Scripture, we can point them to the suffering Savior and the God who draws near in compassion and comfort. We can find hope in His pattern of redeeming the worst and most hopeless of situations into something good. The emphasis is not on "here's this Bible verse, feel better!" but on "He knows, He hears, He came and suffered to remedy this brokenness." This requires sensitivity and discernment to know what to share.

2. We can pray (and encourage others to pray) the lament Psalms. 

• Repeat the words of the Psalm in its translation.

• Paraphrase the Psalm into your own language, related to your situation.

• Write a lament Psalm of your own, using the pattern we see in Scripture (for an example of this see Psalms of Lament by Anne Weems).

Lament Psalm examples: Psalm 6, 10, 13, 17, 22, 25, 30, 31, 69, 73, 86, 88, 102

What Is (And Isn’t) Forgiveness?

This post is part of an ongoing series on ministering to people in pain. Click here to see all the posts in this series.

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As I sit here this morning, I’m thinking of the precious people I know who are hurting today. Their faces parade through my mind as I feel the weight of their pain. Some of them are suffering the pain of life in a broken world, facing aggressive illnesses, sudden death, burying children or parents, waiting for news in hospital rooms. 

Others, though, are walking through pain inflicted by the wrongdoing or carelessness of other people. Thoughtless words of friends that hurt instead of comfort. Infidelity that makes blackened rubble of a marriage. Injustice sanctioned or ignored, innocent lives crushed in the jaws of indifference. Abuse perpetuated by ones who should protect and nourish. Many of us wear the scars. We all have our stories. And somewhere in the healing process, we come to the point we must consider forgiveness. 

For those of us who claim the name Christian, we are a people marked by forgiveness. We believe God, in Jesus Christ on the cross, paid himself the debt we owed. We are forgiven—and, even more, we are welcomed into the family of God, reconciled, once-severed relationship made whole. In the Bible, we are called in no uncertain terms to extend forgiveness to one another, just as we have received undeserved, unmerited forgiveness and mercy.

I will not sugar coat or underestimate the challenge of this calling. It can be incredibly difficult—particularly when the offending party doesn’t repent. 

“Forgiveness is a costly activity. When you cancel a debt, it does not simply disappear. Instead, you absorb a liability someone deserves to pay. Similarly, forgiveness requires that you absorb certain effects of another person’s sins and release the person from liability to punishment.”

- Ken Sande, Peacemaker: A Biblical Guide to Resolving Personal Conflict

Forgiveness is also often misunderstood, and this misunderstanding can lead to more pain, perpetuating guilt, or putting someone in a position for further abuse to occur. When we're ministering to someone in pain, it's important for us to understand what forgiveness is—and isn't—as we encourage the person to pursue it. 

Forgiveness is...

• Canceling a debt

• Giving up the sense “you owe me”

• Giving up the “right” to get even

Forgiveness is not...

• Forgetting

• No consequences

• Pretending unacceptable behavior is acceptable

• Excusing

• No longer feeling pain or grief

• Trust

• Reconciliation

Reconciliation refers to a restored relationship. Part of the beauty of the Gospel is that we are not only forgiven by God but also reconciled. He has not only canceled our debt (forgiveness) but has also restored our relationship (reconciliation). 

In our human relationships, reconciliation should be a goal, if possible, but it isn’t automatic. It is possible to forgive without being reconciled. For example, someone in an abusive relationship may forgive the abuser (not holding the abuse over him, not seeking revenge, not dwelling on it continually, refusing hatred, taking healthy steps to move forward), but she does not have to put herself back into a vulnerable position by remaining in the same level of relationship or trust as before. 

For reconciliation to take place, there must be forgiveness and restored trust. It can only come fully after repentance and a commitment to change—and from there a trusting relationship can be rebuilt. 

This can be described as a two-stage process. 1) We commit to God to forgive, releasing our vengeance and choosing not to dwell on the situation. 2) Then, based on the repentance of the offender, we can exchange forgiveness and rebuild trust and relationship. 

The first “stage” is what we strive for (and I believe what is commanded in the Bible). It sets us free from the bondage of bitterness and revenge. It allows us to move on. It puts us in a position that, if the other person would come to us, asking for forgiveness, we would already be in the place to say, “Yes, I forgive you.” 

Forgiveness is a process, and it takes time. For most of us, it isn’t an isolated one-time event but rather a discipline of continuing to choose forgiveness day-by-day. It’s figuring out how to start over, how to move forward. It’s a continual act of obedience. 

The Face of Resilience

This post is part of an ongoing series on ministering to people in pain. Click here to see all the posts in this series.

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I remember the laughter. The precious children and young women entrusted to me for a year’s time had been through so much. Many of them had been to hell and back again. Some of them were still too young to realize it. But what I remember most wasn’t the tears or the anger. I remember the laughter ringing down the hallway, filtering through my door. I remember the sparkle of excitement on their faces as they shared dreams for the future. I remember their creativity. I remember how, for the most part, they looked forward to the future not as something to be feared but as something to be anticipated for its opportunity. For the vast majority of these kiddos, there was a sense that though the past had been difficult, and the present might still not be the best, the future could be good. I marveled. 

Resilience. It’s the word we use for the ability of the human spirit to bounce back and continue to thrive after hardship, heartache, and trauma. I believe it’s a mysterious and precious gift of God’s grace to us. 

Resilience  gives us hope that pain, though present and unavoidable, is what we make it. We can choose how to respond to our painful circumstances. We can grow and thrive in the face of pain.

Some of us may be more naturally resilient due to temperament, life experiences, relationships, etc., but researchers are finding that resilience can be cultivated. This gives us a great deal of hope. 

As we walk with someone through pain, as we come to the place when it is appropriate to be a “challenger," we can look to resilience in two ways: We can celebrate resilience as we “catch them in the act of coping," and we can encourage resilience’s development. 

Researchers have found common patterns of behavior and attitudes amongst resilience people. As you read the list below, remember these are trends. One person may not have all of these qualities, but these patterns are strong indicators of a person’s resilience and their ability to rebound from hardship. Some of these qualities are innate, but all, with a bit of effort in some cases, can be cultivated.

The Resilient…

• Are realistic optimists. They do not live in whitewashing denial but neither do they live in despair. They recognize the negative but don’t remain fixated on it. They do not exaggerate their pain, trauma, or stress - or mull over it endlessly. They do not catastrophize. They are pragmatic about both pain and happiness.
   

• Allow themselves to feel both good and bad emotions at the same time. They feel sorrow and joy, loss and gratitude. They relish positive experiences as they come, even if small. They take time to notice the good moments.
   

• Approach all of life, including pain, as a learner. Pain is not a threat to be feared but an opportunity to be explored. They look at painful circumstances as a chance to grow and become stronger. They ask, “What is this teaching me?”
   

• Refuse to be passive, helpless, victims. They actively take responsibility to do what they can with what they have. They are not obsessed, however, with control or perfection. They do what they can and move on. They are flexible in the ways they respond, react, and think.
   

• Aren’t narcissistic or self-preoccupied. They know their life and their pain is only a part of the story. They are aware of both their strengths and weakness. They seek to serve others and embrace what they have to give, whether a smile, tutoring, cooking, a kind words, etc. They are generous givers, not hoarders.
   

• Practice gratitude intentionally. They focus on what they have to be grateful for and deliberately bring those things to mind. They know how to be grateful for the “half loaf” or the second choice, for these are better than nothing.
   

• Practice good self-care. They allow themselves to sleep and rest. They eat properly. They exercise. They manage their stress levels. They get outside and spend time in nature.
   

• Have friendships and other meaningful relationships that provide support and help them know they aren’t alone.
   

• Laugh and foster a good sense of humor. They can laugh at themselves, their mistakes, and their circumstances.
   

• Hold onto hope. They believe "it's not over 'til it's over." From a Christian perspective, they cling to the hope of God's promise to make all things new and ultimately triumph over all pain, brokenness, and sorrow.

What Do We Do With This?

1. When you see these qualities, point them out and celebrate them. Hold up a mirror so the person can see his or her own strength.
    

2. Encourage the development of resilience-building skills, behaviors, and attitudes, such as those above. 
    

3. Recognize that not everyone wants to (or is ready to) be resilient or to grow through pain. Graciously work with them through this.

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Sources

“10 Ways to Boost Your Emotional Resilience, Backed by Research” by Eric Barker for Time

“The 5 Best Ways to Build Resiliency” by Jessie Sholl on ExperienceLife.com

“The Secret Formula for Resilience” by Maria Konnikova for The New Yorker

Tough Love Requires a Relationship

This post is part of an ongoing series on ministering to people in pain. Click here to see all the posts in this series.

We came home late one night over the weekend, and as I was about to whip the car across the street, my headlights caught two figures in the middle of the driveway. It was our 92-year-old landlord and his wife taking out the trash. He was pushing a tiny firetruck-red wheelbarrow, piled with the recycling bins and trash bags. She held her hand to the top of the unsteady pile to keep everything from spilling over. We sat there as they slowly made their way, the wheelbarrow wobbling on the slight incline. 

Once we could pull into the drive past them, Scott jumped out of the car and asked, "Can I help you?" I watched him easily lift the bins from the wheelbarrow and set them on the ground. We saw an opportunity, so he helped.

We can use this as a metaphor for how we help people in pain. We see someone struggling. We acknowledge the struggle. We ask if there's a way we can help. But our tendency is to barge in. We see someone shuffling along, slowly making their way, and we jump in to "help," hefting bins around, telling them to get a better wheelbarrow, telling them they shouldn't be out like this anyway. The metaphor is breaking down now, but I think you see my point.

Our initial default with pain shouldn't be going into fix-it mode. It should be to shuffle along with them, matching our strides with theirs. We listen. We empathize. We are present.

I have spent the last several weeks trying to illustrate what this looks like because it is so critical - and because we tend to be bad at it. We like to do, to act. There is a time for this - we're going to start getting to it this week - but I want to be clear. We must always start from this place of "presence." We must always start from a place of relationship, a relationship of trust, vulnerability, and love. We must always start by listening well, ensuring we really hear their experience and understand what's going on. 

In counseling, we talk about the importance of the "therapeutic relationship" - the relationship built between the counselor and the client. Research is showing that this relationship, and the personal qualities of the counselor, are much more influential than the actual technique or model for treatment. 

While I'm not talking here about counseling, I think a similar principle applies. We think that coming up with the right response to someone or finding the right thing to say or challenging them in the right direction will be the key to their comfort. But the reality is that our relationship with them is what is truly powerful. 

There does come a time and place to speak or to act. Though there may be some situations in which our presence and listening well are all that is needed, this is not always the case. Consider this scenario:

I really hope that got a laugh. This woman just wanted to be heard. She needed her husband (or whoever he was) to listen to her and acknowledge she was struggling. However, if he just stopped there and didn't eventually try to help her with the nail, it would be a bit ridiculous, right? While this might seem a bit absurd, I think it makes the point well. We start with the listening and the being there. Then from this point, we can help. 

We may need to help with pain management skills and understanding how to continue to choose life and stay open to joy.  We may need to speak truth. We may need to support a change of circumstance, thinking, or behavior, “gracefully suggesting the possibility of life without the problem.” We may need to encourage and develop resilience, looking for strength and growth that redeem the pain. We may need to invite them to consider forgiveness.

These actions and suggestions can be integral parts of growth and healing in pain. They are important, and we need people in our lives who can graciously and appropriately encourage us to take steps in the right direction. We'll be talking about these things over the next couple weeks. 

When you come to the place to offer suggestions or be a "challenger," before you speak, consider these questions:

• Do I have the trusting, loving, vulnerable relationship necessary to play this role with this person? Am I acting from an appropriate relationship?
   

• Have I taken the time to listen well and ensured I truly understand what's going on?
   

• Am I being sensitive to timing? Are they ready to be pushed in this way?
   

• Will my suggestions encourage them to choose life, to hold open a space for joy, or to nurture hope?