Hope Finds Another One

A few weeks ago, I met another one – an injured saint completely exhausted from serving God and others.Call to Serve

These wounded warriors seem to surface everywhere I go: former staff from a well-known nonprofit who are expected to pray 24/7 until they drop.

Missionaries fatigued from the struggle of cross cultural shock, language study and the stress of starting new churches.

Ministers – both male and female – expected to raise money for church programs while staying focused on the needs of the people.

Pastors’ wives criticized for each pound they gain or the style of clothing they wear or their failure to fill every gap in the church – play the piano, organize the library, show hospitality to everyone, attend every function.

Those who serve day after day with more and more tasks piled on them because the needs are so great and the money so slim.

Even when they try to set healthy boundaries, their voices are not heard. Their pleas ignored.

Then one day – they break. Tears choke and limbs refuse to move. They lie frozen in a fetal position as their bodies scream, “Enough!”

Then comes the judgment:

  • “You’re supposed to deny yourself, take up your cross and follow Christ.”
  • “Complaining is a sin. So is laziness. The Bible calls it sloth.”
  • “How can you be so selfish when the whole world needs Jesus?”

Condemnation wraps itself around the soul like a blanket of destiny. Burnout, broken relationships, chronic illnesses and a shattered sense of self.

The call to serve has become a death sentence and no one in the support group seems to understand.

Have these warriors failed or has the system itself failed them? Have we required so much of our workers they have nothing left to treasure of themselves? How can they possibly love others if they are denied loving themselves?

Even Jesus rowed across the lake to escape from the enormous needs of the people.

So what can we do for these wounded ones? How can we help them recover?

  • Provide a place of rest – a retreat center, a rent-free apartment, a vacation far away from the source of the stress.
  • Initiate the healing process – a leave of absence with expenses paid, a counselor to help them work through the grief.
  • Show grace – no condemnation and no gossip.
  • Solitude – allow them time and space. Don’t text, call or email because they will answer and automatically want to help YOU, pray with YOU, minister to YOU. They are programmed as helpers. Don’t force them back into that role.
  • Meet their daily needs – a casserole on the porch, a gift card in the mail, a letter of encouragement. But NO condemning Bible verses enclosed.
  • Apologize for devaluing their personhood, for expecting supernatural strength from a homo sapien.
  • Pray for God’s healing comfort and for the gentle salve of the Holy Spirit to wash over their hobbled souls.

Then finally – commit to do a better job next time, to set guidelines that protect the hearts of those who serve, to listen to the cries of the faithful servants.

God does not demand that we kill ourselves for the Gospel. Jesus already paid the sacrifice.

It’s okay to admit, “It is finished.”

©2017 RJ Thesman, Author of “Sometimes They Forget” and the Reverend G Trilogy 

 

 

Hope Offers Support

A fist of fear pummeled my soul. I was startled by its intensity and for several moments – forgot to breathe. It was only when I started to feel dizzy that I reminded myself to gulp in draughts of oxygen.Yes - we trust God

Why the fear? I needed to go to the doctor – one of those visits that might be serious or only slightly serious – depending on the results.

And I knew I could not do this alone. So I called my son. “I need a favor, honey.”

“Sure.”

Even the sound of his bass voice reassured me, and I breathed deeply. “Would you go with me to the doctor? I don’t know why. I just need someone with  me today.”

Again, “Sure. Glad to.”

My heart stopped its thumping romp as fear eased.

He stood with me as I checked in, followed me into the sterile room and provided another pair of ears to listen carefully to the doctor’s orders. Then he helped me gather my purse, all the paperwork, even my water bottle.

The prognosis, “Nothing serious yet. We’ll try the pills first and then go from there.”

Did he hear the same words I heard, the ones I was hoping for? Yes, but it was good to have another voice to confirm the answer.

At the pharmacy, he helped me pick up the meds, then we shared supper and watched the Royals together back in my living room.

Somehow, just having another human being beside me in the journey, to share in the fearful possibilities, to lighten the load – felt like healing itself.

“It will be okay, Mom.” The same words he spoke when I held his hand before brain surgery, when they cut open his precious head and removed that nasty tumor.

When life hands us its unraveling, we tend to suck it up and march forward – finding power in our own strength and the fortitude it takes to just keep living.


But sometimes – when the possibilities of a painful test loom big, when the trial unravels into fragments of unknowns and sucker punches us into silence – we need someone beside us.


Yes, we trust God, but we also need living, breathing human beings to encourage us, to hold our hands, to tell us it will be okay.

I was so grateful that day for my boy – this now grown man whose presence exuded strength and calm – this tower of humanity who has himself survived cancer and experienced his own miracle.

He did not laugh at my need or seem distressed when I swallowed tears and hung on to his arm. He simply let me ride through the storm with his presence beside me.

Every day since then, he checks on me, wondering if I feel better. Are the meds working? Am I being careful to monitor reactions?

This reversal of roles seems too soon in my journey. I do not yet feel old. I only feel older.

Every day I give thanks, treasure the gift that is my son and remind myself again – I am not really alone.

Hope breathes again because of connection.

For those who live in concrete relationship, be grateful. For those like me who soldier on in solitude, find a connecting place.

And if you know a single mom or another soul who marches with an individual beat, offer to be there if needed – to provide the reassurance that someone cares.

We need each other, even when we feel strong and healthy. Vulnerability will inevitably intrude. That is when we find out who really cares.

©2016 RJ Thesman – Author of the Reverend G books http://amzn.to/1rXlCyh