Prayer To A Broken God

To A Broken God by Michael Card

Didn’t see You there, didn’t know You were weeping too;
I think of tears as a human wound.
Though of course You care, You have shown You were human too,
They say You cried at Lazarus’ tomb.

I was unaware how it is with a broken God,
I thought of You as above my pain.
Lost in my despair, so it is with a broken heart,
I never dreamed You could feel the same.

Once, in a magazine I saw a face
wrinkled up in grief and travailed grace;
I kept looking to that face,
some sad refugee in some sad place.
And in his eyes the sorrow of our race;
then I saw it was the face of God,
the face of God—Your face, dear God.

Some say You’re not there, just a myth for a lazy life,
an artifact from an ancient scroll.
But I have known You near in the gift of a weary sigh,
Lord of the lost and the lonesome soul.

I was unaware how it is with a broken God,
I never dreamed You could feel the same.

http://www.michaelcard.com/

What Not To Say...

What Not to Say to a Grieving Person by Nancy Guthrie

Three Things Grieving People Don't Want to Hear

I want to tell you three things that grieving people wish no one would ever say to them again.

One of them is, "I know exactly how you feel." We tend to say that to someone when we’ve had a grief experience of our own, some kind of loss. We’ve had a taste of it, and there are aspects of what they’re going through that we might be familiar with. But when we say, "I know exactly how you feel," it’s like we’re elevating ourselves to their level. It’s like we’re trying to steal the spotlight from them. But we don’t know exactly how they feel. We know how we felt, and we know what our experience was like when we lost someone, but we don’t know what their experience is like. They are a unique person—their loss was unique.

A second thing they never want to hear is, "You’ll be fine." We say that because they seem so devastated and we want to assure them that the day is going to come when the sun is going to come out again and it won’t hurt quite as much as it does today. But, once again, saying "You’ll be fine" makes it sound as if this loss that they have experienced is just another bump along the way of life—that it’s really not all that significant, that it shouldn’t trouble them too much. What it really does is diminish the worth of the person who died. It says that the person who died is not really worthy of being all that troubled about. So don’t say, "You’ll be fine."

The third one is the biggest. Any sentence that begins with, "Well, at least . . ." Whatever you’re going to put after that—just forget it. Things like, "Well, at least you can have more children," "Well, at least you can get married again," "Well, at least they didn’t have to suffer," "Well, at least . . ." The reason we’re saying these things is that we’re trying to help them have perspective. We’re wanting them to look on the bright side. What we’re saying might actually be a good perspective, and it might be true, but the question is: is it helpful in this moment?

Maybe the grieving person says, "Well, at least . . ." If they do that, you can agree. But don’t be the first one to say it. Don’t, in your desire to give them perspective about their loss, actually diminish their loss in the process.

Loving Those Who Hurt

10 Ways Not To Help A Hurting Friend, a post by Dave Furman, author of Being There: How to Love Those Who Are Hurting. (via Crossway Books)

You may think you have the right approach and goal in caring for your friend going through depression, your sick elderly mother, a couple struggling through a miscarriage, or a friend grieving the loss of a career, but it doesn’t matter how sincere you are if you're way off target. I have had conversations with many individuals who had good intentions, but at the end of the day they only exacerbated my hurt. And sometimes I thought I was doing good for someone else when I was actually causing more pain. In our sincerity we can still be wrong! We need God’s help to care for our friends who are distressed.

Here is a brief discussion about ten approaches to caring for the hurting that look helpful on the surface, but in the end may only add to the pain. Through this list, I hope you’ll see that God’s love triumphs in your weaknesses. We don’t know the answers, and we can’t fix things, but he is faithful to care for our friends in the midst of their pain.

1. Don’t Be the Fix-It Person

“I’ve been thinking about you. I’ve picked up this brand-new organic, all-natural ointment that will surely heal your disability. My grandmother used it for her foot pain, and it went away in a week. It should heal you too!”

The truth is, nobody wants another treatment, ointment, acupuncture reference, or diet that is 100 percent guaranteed to get their hopes up higher than they’ve ever been before. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been handed another bag full of exotic creams in some language I couldn’t understand. I can’t count the number of times people have given me something that they claim has healed someone with the same ailment that I have. When you make these claims and guarantee healing, it may highlight to the one who is hurting that you have no idea what kind of issues they are actually dealing with. It’s in our nature to want to offer a solution for a problem—and that’s great! We yearn to help and often have great intentions by wanting to fix things. The heart behind this is wonderful, but sometimes the best help is a listening ear to the problems that a person is really facing. Proverbs 10:19 says, “When words are many, transgression is not lacking, but whoever restrains his lips is prudent.” A better approach would be to ask more questions and grow in your understanding of another’s pain rather than offering solutions for something you know very little about. Sometimes the best thing you can do is say, “I’m sorry, can you help me better understand what you are going through?” And then listen.

2. Don’t Play the Comparison Game

“Oh, wow, you have arm pain. I had tennis elbow one time, and it was really rough. I couldn’t play any sports for a couple of weeks. I know exactly what you’re going through.”

Unless you’re Jesus, it almost never helps to tell someone that you know exactly what he or she is going through. We think we’re encouraging others by proclaiming we’ve gone through something similar, when in reality what they’re going through may be much different from our past experience. It is certainly not exactly the same. Another way you might play the comparison game is to point out other people who have it worse than your friend. We might think we’re helping when we tell someone who has a hurt leg, “Well, at least you still have a leg. There are thousands of people around the world who don’t have any legs, and they can’t walk at all. Praise God for the leg you have!” But how is that supposed to make the person feel? Not better, that’s for sure. When you do this, you minimize another person’s suffering. You are making your suffering friend feel like his pain is “no big deal.” To people in pain—whatever their issue is—it is a big deal. A person’s suffering is no small suffering to that person in that moment. If you minimize a person’s pain, it will compound his hurt even more. And when a person’s experience of his real pain is invalidated, then he is not pointed to Christ for hope and help. Why bother Jesus with something that’s really no big deal? A better way forward is to say, “I love you,” and “I am so sorry,” and to pour out your heart in compassion for the one hurting because what he’s going through is difficult and unique to him. Rather than working hard to remember your distant relative who went through something similar and sharing those stories, show sympathy and love for the hurting person who is right in front of you. Instead of comparing your friend to someone you know, you might say, “I don’t pretend to understand what you’re going through, but I want to try. Help me understand how you are feeling.”

3. Don’t Make It Their Identity

“Hi, nice to see you. How’s your back? Is it feeling any better? Have you gotten any rest? Are you in a lot of pain right now? How is it compared to how you were last week? You really don’t look very good right now, maybe you should sit down.”
Another of the ten commandments of what not to do for your hurting friends is to bring up their pain so much that it becomes their identity. If you talk about it all the time, you are at risk of defining them by their struggle and pain as if that’s all they’re about. We need to be careful to not constantly bring up their suffering. At the same time, we want to show we care, so this is a tough balance to keep. As you care for your friend, it is important to remember that if your friend has a disability, he is not fundamentally a disabled person. If he is a Christian, then he is a Christian who has a disability. If your friend has lost his job, he is not fundamentally an unemployed person. If he is a Christian, then he is a Christian who is unemployed. As a Christian, his primary identity is as a son of the living God. He is a human being who has an immortal soul, redeemed out of the kingdom of darkness.

The apostle Paul understands this truth but goes even further and says that the fundamental identity of Christians is that they are in Christ. That despite our sin and wickedness, God did the following: "But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus" (Eph. 2:4–7). A believer now lives in light of a completely new reality. Our sinful condition is reversed. We have gone from being enemies of God to being “in Christ” (v. 7). This is the reality for the Christian. Now that we are saved by grace, God views believers as he views his Son. This is remarkable. When God the Father looks at us, he sees Jesus. When he looks at a Christian who has a disability, he doesn’t primarily see disability; above all, he sees his Son. When he looks at a Christian who is weak or sick, he doesn’t see sickness—he sees our Savior. As we interact with believers who are hurting, realize that their identity is that of being in Christ Jesus. When you speak to them, help them draw their gaze to Christ so they can see things from an eternal perspective, and consistently remind them that their identity is not in their circumstances, but in their Savior.

4. Don’t Promise Deliverance Now

“Oh, I just know you are going to get healed. You love Jesus and are faithful to him, so he will definitely heal you. Just be patient and think positive and keep the faith and you’ll be healed in no time at all.”

When we 100 percent guarantee that God will deliver our friends from their suffering in this earthly life, we make God out to be some type of cosmic vending machine. Your prayer requests become command central for getting God to do the exact thing you want, when you want it. When you give the promise of healing to the hurting, you inevitably overpromise and underdeliver. Eventually this message lets you down. If you see God as a vending machine, then you will become disillusioned when your candy bar doesn’t drop after payment has been submitted. When you promise healing for your friend, he will be crushed if it doesn’t happen. Instead of promising deliverance, promise the presence of God.

A Christian worships God for God, because God is more precious than anything this world has to offer. God is the beginning and the end. He’s the goal—more of him, not more of the stuff you think you can get from him. Over the past decade or so, various well-meaning people have kindly told me that God was going to heal me. They have tried to encourage me that since I am a man of faith and I love God, I’ll be healed. Some have said that because I am a pastor and am doing the Lord’s work, I will be healed. Many have said that God would bless my faithfulness by giving me good health. Others have said, “It’s all going to be okay.” Now, they’re right and they’re wrong. God will one day heal me, but it might not come here on earth. I may never get to pick up my baby in this life. However, in the next, I will not shed another tear as I ponder whether I will ever be able to play ball with my sons. In this life I may not be able to button my shirt and put on my shoes by myself, but in the next life I will be perfectly dressed in Christ’s righteousness. Instead of promising deliverance in this life, point them to God’s presence and a future hope that will never let them down.

Loving Those Who Hurt

10 Ways Not To Help A Hurting Friend, a post by Dave Furman, author of Being There: How to Love Those Who Are Hurting. (via Crossway Books)

You may think you have the right approach and goal in caring for your friend going through depression, your sick elderly mother, a couple struggling through a miscarriage, or a friend grieving the loss of a career, but it doesn’t matter how sincere you are if you're way off target. I have had conversations with many individuals who had good intentions, but at the end of the day they only exacerbated my hurt. And sometimes I thought I was doing good for someone else when I was actually causing more pain. In our sincerity we can still be wrong! We need God’s help to care for our friends who are distressed.

Here is a brief discussion about ten approaches to caring for the hurting that look helpful on the surface, but in the end may only add to the pain. Through this list, I hope you’ll see that God’s love triumphs in your weaknesses. We don’t know the answers, and we can’t fix things, but he is faithful to care for our friends in the midst of their pain.

1. Don’t Be the Fix-It Person

“I’ve been thinking about you. I’ve picked up this brand-new organic, all-natural ointment that will surely heal your disability. My grandmother used it for her foot pain, and it went away in a week. It should heal you too!”

The truth is, nobody wants another treatment, ointment, acupuncture reference, or diet that is 100 percent guaranteed to get their hopes up higher than they’ve ever been before. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been handed another bag full of exotic creams in some language I couldn’t understand. I can’t count the number of times people have given me something that they claim has healed someone with the same ailment that I have. When you make these claims and guarantee healing, it may highlight to the one who is hurting that you have no idea what kind of issues they are actually dealing with. It’s in our nature to want to offer a solution for a problem—and that’s great! We yearn to help and often have great intentions by wanting to fix things. The heart behind this is wonderful, but sometimes the best help is a listening ear to the problems that a person is really facing. Proverbs 10:19 says, “When words are many, transgression is not lacking, but whoever restrains his lips is prudent.” A better approach would be to ask more questions and grow in your understanding of another’s pain rather than offering solutions for something you know very little about. Sometimes the best thing you can do is say, “I’m sorry, can you help me better understand what you are going through?” And then listen.

2. Don’t Play the Comparison Game

“Oh, wow, you have arm pain. I had tennis elbow one time, and it was really rough. I couldn’t play any sports for a couple of weeks. I know exactly what you’re going through.”

Unless you’re Jesus, it almost never helps to tell someone that you know exactly what he or she is going through. We think we’re encouraging others by proclaiming we’ve gone through something similar, when in reality what they’re going through may be much different from our past experience. It is certainly not exactly the same. Another way you might play the comparison game is to point out other people who have it worse than your friend. We might think we’re helping when we tell someone who has a hurt leg, “Well, at least you still have a leg. There are thousands of people around the world who don’t have any legs, and they can’t walk at all. Praise God for the leg you have!” But how is that supposed to make the person feel? Not better, that’s for sure. When you do this, you minimize another person’s suffering. You are making your suffering friend feel like his pain is “no big deal.” To people in pain—whatever their issue is—it is a big deal. A person’s suffering is no small suffering to that person in that moment. If you minimize a person’s pain, it will compound his hurt even more. And when a person’s experience of his real pain is invalidated, then he is not pointed to Christ for hope and help. Why bother Jesus with something that’s really no big deal? A better way forward is to say, “I love you,” and “I am so sorry,” and to pour out your heart in compassion for the one hurting because what he’s going through is difficult and unique to him. Rather than working hard to remember your distant relative who went through something similar and sharing those stories, show sympathy and love for the hurting person who is right in front of you. Instead of comparing your friend to someone you know, you might say, “I don’t pretend to understand what you’re going through, but I want to try. Help me understand how you are feeling.”

3. Don’t Make It Their Identity

“Hi, nice to see you. How’s your back? Is it feeling any better? Have you gotten any rest? Are you in a lot of pain right now? How is it compared to how you were last week? You really don’t look very good right now, maybe you should sit down.”
Another of the ten commandments of what not to do for your hurting friends is to bring up their pain so much that it becomes their identity. If you talk about it all the time, you are at risk of defining them by their struggle and pain as if that’s all they’re about. We need to be careful to not constantly bring up their suffering. At the same time, we want to show we care, so this is a tough balance to keep. As you care for your friend, it is important to remember that if your friend has a disability, he is not fundamentally a disabled person. If he is a Christian, then he is a Christian who has a disability. If your friend has lost his job, he is not fundamentally an unemployed person. If he is a Christian, then he is a Christian who is unemployed. As a Christian, his primary identity is as a son of the living God. He is a human being who has an immortal soul, redeemed out of the kingdom of darkness.

The apostle Paul understands this truth but goes even further and says that the fundamental identity of Christians is that they are in Christ. That despite our sin and wickedness, God did the following: "But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus" (Eph. 2:4–7). A believer now lives in light of a completely new reality. Our sinful condition is reversed. We have gone from being enemies of God to being “in Christ” (v. 7). This is the reality for the Christian. Now that we are saved by grace, God views believers as he views his Son. This is remarkable. When God the Father looks at us, he sees Jesus. When he looks at a Christian who has a disability, he doesn’t primarily see disability; above all, he sees his Son. When he looks at a Christian who is weak or sick, he doesn’t see sickness—he sees our Savior. As we interact with believers who are hurting, realize that their identity is that of being in Christ Jesus. When you speak to them, help them draw their gaze to Christ so they can see things from an eternal perspective, and consistently remind them that their identity is not in their circumstances, but in their Savior.

4. Don’t Promise Deliverance Now

“Oh, I just know you are going to get healed. You love Jesus and are faithful to him, so he will definitely heal you. Just be patient and think positive and keep the faith and you’ll be healed in no time at all.”

When we 100 percent guarantee that God will deliver our friends from their suffering in this earthly life, we make God out to be some type of cosmic vending machine. Your prayer requests become command central for getting God to do the exact thing you want, when you want it. When you give the promise of healing to the hurting, you inevitably overpromise and underdeliver. Eventually this message lets you down. If you see God as a vending machine, then you will become disillusioned when your candy bar doesn’t drop after payment has been submitted. When you promise healing for your friend, he will be crushed if it doesn’t happen. Instead of promising deliverance, promise the presence of God.

A Christian worships God for God, because God is more precious than anything this world has to offer. God is the beginning and the end. He’s the goal—more of him, not more of the stuff you think you can get from him. Over the past decade or so, various well-meaning people have kindly told me that God was going to heal me. They have tried to encourage me that since I am a man of faith and I love God, I’ll be healed. Some have said that because I am a pastor and am doing the Lord’s work, I will be healed. Many have said that God would bless my faithfulness by giving me good health. Others have said, “It’s all going to be okay.” Now, they’re right and they’re wrong. God will one day heal me, but it might not come here on earth. I may never get to pick up my baby in this life. However, in the next, I will not shed another tear as I ponder whether I will ever be able to play ball with my sons. In this life I may not be able to button my shirt and put on my shoes by myself, but in the next life I will be perfectly dressed in Christ’s righteousness. Instead of promising deliverance in this life, point them to God’s presence and a future hope that will never let them down.

How To Not Say The Wrong Thing

This needs to be heard, understood, and practiced!  How Not To Say the Wrong Thing In Death, Illness,  Divorce and Other Crises by Susan Silk and Barry Goldman (HT: United Methodist Church of North Texas)

When Susan had breast cancer, we heard a lot of lame remarks, but our favorite came from one of Susan’s colleagues. She wanted, she needed, to visit Susan after the surgery, but Susan didn’t feel like having visitors, and she said so. Her colleague’s response? “This isn’t just about you.”

“It’s not?” Susan wondered. “My breast cancer is not about me? It’s about you?”

The same theme came up again when our friend Katie had a brain aneurysm. She was in intensive care for a long time and finally got out and into a step-down unit. She was no longer covered with tubes and lines and monitors, but she was still in rough shape. A friend came and saw her and then stepped into the hall with Katie’s husband, Pat. “I wasn’t prepared for this,” she told him. “I don’t know if I can handle it.”

This woman loves Katie, and she said what she did because the sight of Katie in this condition moved her so deeply. But it was the wrong thing to say. And it was wrong in the same way Susan’s colleague’s remark was wrong.

Susan has since developed a simple technique to help people avoid this mistake. It works for all kinds of crises: medical, legal, financial, romantic, even existential. She calls it the Ring Theory.

 Illustration by Wes Bausmith / Los Angeles Times

The ‘Ring Theory’ of kvetching works in all kinds of crises — medical, legal, even existential.

Draw a circle. This is the center ring. In it, put the name of the person at the center of the current trauma. For Katie’s aneurysm, that’s Katie. Now draw a larger circle around the first one. In that ring put the name of the person next closest to the trauma. In the case of Katie’s aneurysm, that was Katie’s husband, Pat. Repeat the process as many times as you need to. In each larger ring put the next closest people. Parents and children before more distant relatives. Intimate friends in smaller rings, less intimate friends in larger ones. When you are done you have a Kvetching Order. One of Susan’s patients found it useful to tape it to her refrigerator.

Here are the rules. The person in the center ring can say anything she wants to anyone, anywhere. She can kvetch and complain and whine and moan and curse the heavens and say, “Life is unfair” and “Why me?” That’s the one payoff for being in the center ring.

Everyone else can say those things too, but only to people in larger rings.

When you are talking to a person in a ring smaller than yours, someone closer to the center of the crisis, the goal is to help. Listening is often more helpful than talking. But if you’re going to open your mouth, ask yourself if what you are about to say is likely to provide comfort and support. If it isn’t, don’t say it. Don’t, for example, give advice. People who are suffering from trauma don’t need advice. They need comfort and support. So say, “I’m sorry” or “This must really be hard for you” or “Can I bring you a pot roast?” Don’t say, “You should hear what happened to me” or “Here’s what I would do if I were you.” And don’t say, “This is really bringing me down.”

If you want to scream or cry or complain, if you want to tell someone how shocked you are or how icky you feel, or whine about how it reminds you of all the terrible things that have happened to you lately, that’s fine. It’s a perfectly normal response. Just do it to someone in a bigger ring.

Comfort IN, dump OUT.

There was nothing wrong with Katie’s friend saying she was not prepared for how horrible Katie looked, or even that she didn’t think she could handle it. The mistake was that she said those things to Pat. She dumped IN.

Complaining to someone in a smaller ring than yours doesn’t do either of you any good. On the other hand, being supportive to her principal caregiver may be the best thing you can do for the patient.

Most of us know this. Almost nobody would complain to the patient about how rotten she looks. Almost no one would say that looking at her makes them think of the fragility of life and their own closeness to death. In other words, we know enough not to dump into the center ring. Ring Theory merely expands that intuition and makes it more concrete: Don’t just avoid dumping into the center ring, avoid dumping into any ring smaller than your own.

Remember, you can say whatever you want if you just wait until you’re talking to someone in a larger ring than yours.

And don’t worry. You’ll get your turn in the center ring. You can count on that.

A Time For Lamentations

Watching the news this morning... this week ... this year is just frankly overwhelming. I feel like shouting "Stop 2016, I want to get off!"Even prayer seems to be an inadequate response.

Yet... I refuse to give in to that hopelessness. Now abides Faith, HOPE, and Love. Please read How To Pray In Our Time of National Crises by Joe Carter:

Our country is in pain.

A series of inexplicable killings, including five police officers in Dallas, has occurred this week. Many of us are anxious and hurting. All of us are confused.

When faced with this type of national crisis we may find it difficult to turn to our Comforter in prayer. We are used to going to God with our requests, but this time seems different. We are mired in sorrow and pain and can’t get past the question that haunts us: “How could God let this happen? Where is he when our country needs him?”

The book of Lamentations opens with a similarly bewildered and mournful query. Jerusalem had been destroyed by the Babylonians and God seemed to pay no attention to the cries of the suffering survivors. In their pain they cry out, ““See, Lord, how distressed I am! I am in torment within” (Lamentations 1: 20).

This book takes it’s name from lament, a song of mourning or sorrow. Laments may be occasioned by bereavement, personal trouble, national disaster, or the judgment of God. Throughout the Old Testament, and especially in the Psalms, we find lamentations that can serve as model for how we can respond in prayer in times of crisis.
Here are some suggestions for how to use such passages as guides:

Don’t strip away the context

There is a temptation to pick and choose a particular verse, metaphor, or image of lament, remove it from it’s context, and then apply it to our own situation. This is generally the wrong way to handle Scripture. While our context may not be the same as the context of a particular Bible passage, we can use the lamentation as a guide for creating our own personalized response to God. As John D. Witvliet says, we can “work with the basic psalm forms we have learned to discern, and then, like a jazz soloist who embellishes a musical theme, that we improvise in the context of our particular tragedy.”

Understand the form of Biblical lament

Most passages of lamentation in the Bible include a heart cry, imagery to describe God, a direct discourse, a specific petition, and an expression of hope.

Heart cry

A devastating example of a cry of a pained heart is David’s opening of Psalm 22: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Don’t be afraid to let God hear the cry of your own heart. Be reverent, but bold and address him as your loving Father.

Imagery

The Bible gives us a broad gallery of images we can use when we address God. As Witvliet notes,

We pray to Yahweh, the rock, the fortress, the hiding place, the bird with encompassing wings. These metaphors are not just theological constructs, but means of directly addressing God. As we pray them, these metaphors shape and reshape how we conceive of God. They hone our image of God with the very tools that God gave us: the biblical texts.

Use Scriptural metaphors to help you recognize the God to whom you’re appealing.

Direct discourse

Pour out your heart. God knows exactly what you are going through, but he wants you to put into your own words the grief or pain you’re feeling.

Specific petition

The purpose of a lament is to open your heart to uncover the petition you need to offer God. As Claus Westermann explains, “lamentation has no meaning in and of itself. . . . It functions as an appeal. . . . What the lament is concerned with is not a description of one’s own sufferings or with self-pity, but with the removal of the suffering itself. The lament appeals to the one who can remove suffering.”

Expression of hope

Finally, even while we may still be in pain, our lament should inspire hope, either in the near future or to the time when, “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death' or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away” (Revelation 21:4).

Come soon, Lord Jesus.

Stupid Phrases

Everyone knows someone who has been through a crises. Everyone seems to get it wrong when it comes to helping that friend. Everyone needs to learn these lesson- please read Stupid Phrases For People In Crises by Marilyn Gardner

1. God will never give you more than you can handle. While some may believe it is theologically correct, depending on your definitions, it is singularly unhelpful to the person who is neck-deep in a crisis, trying to swim against a Tsunami. A wonderful phrase recently came from Support for Special Needs. They suggest changing this from “God will never give you more than you can handle” to “Let me come over and help you do some laundry.” This strikes me as even more theologically correct.
2. It gets better. Yes, yes it does. But right then, it’s not better. And before it gets better, it may get way worse.
3. When God shuts a door, he opens a window. Maybe, but maybe not. Maybe he just shuts a door. Maybe there is no window. There was no window for Job. There was a cosmic battle that raged as he sat in distress. There might not be a window. And if Job’s friends had kept their silence, perhaps God would not have told Job to pray for them at the end of the narrative.
4. Did you pray about it? Again – theologically correct. “Don’t worry about anything, instead, pray about everything…” but in a crisis, you don’t heap guilt onto pain and suffering. At a time of deep pain in my life, someone said this to me. I looked at him in silence, and then with a shaky voice I said: “We haven’t been able to pray in three months–so no, we haven’t prayed about it.” I was in so much pain– it was like he had slapped me. Pray for the person, but please, please leave the clichés at home.
5. God is good – all the time. Another one that is technically theologically correct. But is it helpful to say this when someone has just lost a child and is screaming at Heaven? Is it helpful to say this to the person who just had their fifth miscarriage? Is it helpful to say this to the woman going through a divorce, because her marriage could not hold up under the stress of a special needs child? They may say it, and we can nod our heads in agreement. But for us to say this from a place that is calm and safe will probably not be helpful.
6. But for the grace of God go I. “But why you? Why do you get that grace and not me? Why am I the one in the crisis? Was God’s grace withheld from me?” Those are valid responses to that phrase. I understand the phrase, and I’ve used it myself, but it doesn’t help the person who is in deep pain.
7. Don’t worry. God’s in Charge. Yeah? Well, he’s not doing a very good job then is he? God is in control, but it brings up some serious theological implications about God’s role in the crisis. Instead of a theology of suffering, we might want to think about a fellowship of suffering. Because a fellowship of suffering leads me to sit with a person and say “It’s too much to bear – may I sit with you and bear it with you?”
8. Maybe God needed to get your attention. Thank God no one ever said this to me during times of crisis – because I might have to punch them in the face with a knife. That’s all.
9. Maybe it happened for a reason. Remember what I said about punching someone in the face with a knife? Yeah – that.
10. Just call me if you need anything. While I want to appreciate this, the fact is that people in crisis usually don’t have the ability to call, so they won’t. Even if you don’t know someone well, you can bring them a meal or drive them somewhere.
11. I could never go through what you’re going through. Come again my friend?? This does not comfort. A false elevation of the character and ability to cope of the person going through the crisis only serves to further wound and isolate. The one who is going through a crisis longs to be on the other side. They wake up and breathe deeply, only to remember the awful reality of their situation, and wish they didn’t have to go through it.
12. When I think of your situation, I’m reminded how blessed I am. No. No. No. First off, this is theologically completely incorrect. The beatitudes heap blessing on those that mourn, on those who are meek, on those who are poor in spirit — not on those who are safe, secure, financially stable, and proud. Those in crisis are not an illustration of how blessed everyone else is. In  the counter intuitive, upside down way of the Kingdom of God, blessing looks completely different than what we in the West have made it to mean. There are big problems with our use of the word and concept of blessing.

So what do we do? How do we respond?

I think those are difficult questions, but the best analogy I have for people in acute crisis is looking at them as burn victims. Caring for burn victims is divided into three stages that overlap.

The first is the emergent or resuscitative stage. At this stage priority is given to removing the person from the source of the burn and stopping the burning process. The big things to think about are fluid replacement, nutrition, and pain management. Translated into crisis care, this means we’ll bring meals, coffee money, and pick up children from day care.
The second stage is the acute or wound healing stage. At this stage, the body is trying to reach a state of balance, while remaining free from infection. During this stage, patients can become withdrawn, combative, or agitated. This stage can be a lengthy and unpredictable stage. Burn victims, like people in crisis, often lash out at those closest to them. Translate this into listening, listening, and listening some more.

The final stage is the rehabilitative or restorative stage. The goal at this stage is for a patient to resume a functional role within their family and community. Reconstruction surgery may be needed. Encouragement and reassurance are critical to the person at this stage. This would translate into going on walks with the person, taking them out to a movie or dinner, having them over for coffee or a meal.

Burn care has a lot to teach us about loving and caring for people in crisis. And those who care for burn victims rarely use clichés — they are too busy caring.

In February, I wrote a piece called Toward a Fellowship of Suffering, and I’ll end what could be a cynical post, with words from that piece.

“There is something about suffering that longs for someone to sit with us through the pain. It’s the fellowship of suffering. It’s the words ‘you are not alone’ put into action. The sitting bears witness to our pain. More than a card or a casserole, the familiar, patient presence of another says to us ‘it’s too much for you to bear, but I will be with you, I will sit with you.'”

No Hallmark Platitudes

At a loss for what to say to a friend going through grief or other intense suffering? Whatever else you say, Don't Give Them Hallmark Platitudes (by Erik Raymond):

What do you say when someone close to you enters a season of intense pain and grief? How do serve them well?

Some of the most common choices include the following. First, you can avoid them. It is painful and unsettling to see people hurting; it’s easier to just avoid it. Second, you can minimize it. Try to shrink down the effect of what is happening by contrasting it with something else. Third, you could trivialize it. This is perhaps the most common. Here we say a bunch of stuff that doesn’t make any sense or help. But, it’s ok since it is in a nice voice or because it comes in a card.

I don’t believe any of these are helpful or advisable. Staying away does not help the person who is hurting. Friends, and in particular Christian friends, are to rejoice with those who rejoice and weep with those who weep (Rm. 12.15). Minimizing grief is just a smoke screen that doesn’t ever help. After all, Christians have a context for what is happening so providing this is actually more helpful. And finally, the Hallmark platitudes just don’t help. It actually makes the problems we are facing worse because it shows that we don’t really have much in the way of help; we just say stuff that sounds nice.

Instead of Hallmark give hurting people Habakkuk. That doesn’t sound very marketable, does it? But it is helpful. Let me explain.

Habakkuk and his people were getting their tails kicked by neighboring countries. God tells him that it is going to get far worse before it’ll get better. The Babylonians were stretching their hamstrings and about to invade, assault, and capture them. The bad religious people in Israel would be judged by the bad pagan people in Babylon. Habakkuk is grappling with his lot in life. It was hard. And this is what we can learn about suffering and helping those who are hurting. God hears the cries and wades into them. Far from minimizing, sentimentalizing, relativizing, or staying away, God enters in and provides counsel.

As you read Habakkuk in light of the situation in the book you see that God’s dealing with the prophet is instructive for us. Here are a few of the things we can glean from the book in this light....

Read the rest at the link.

What Not To Ask the Grieving

Do you find it uncomfortable talking to someone undergoing grief? Have you ever asked them "How are you?" If so, please read What Not To Ask Someone Suffering by Nancy Guthrie

People ask me all the time what to say and what to do for people who are grieving the death of someone they love. And I’m glad they ask. I’m glad they want to know what is really helpful and meaningful, and what is completely unhelpful and actually hurtful. And I wish I could tell you that I always know myself what to say. But sometimes words fail me. And I wish I could tell you that I never say the wrong thing. But I do. In fact, a few days ago, I made the mistake I often tell other people not to make.
The minute I said it I wish I hadn’t. I should know better. But it’s just what came out. Maybe it’s what comes out when you talk to grieving people too. Here’s what I said. Or more accurately, what I asked:

       How are you?

It doesn’t seem so wrong, does it? It’s a question that reveals that we care. It lets the person know we haven’t forgotten about their loss. Really it is an invitation for the grieving person to talk about their loss. But many grieving people say they simply hate the question. They feel put on the spot to report on their job performance in this task they’ve been given — continuing to live when their loved one has died — a task for which they had no training and for which they seem to have no resources. It’s a question they don’t know how to answer. “I’m fine” isn’t quite right. They may be functioning, and perhaps even feeling better, but they know they’re not “fine.” “I’m terrible” seems whiney. “I’m angry!” seems unacceptable. “I’m crying all the time” seems pathetic.

Something Is Wrong

“How are you?” is one of those questions that always bothered my husband, David, in those days after our daughter, and later our son, died. He always felt like he was supposed to quantify his progress back toward normalcy. In our book,When Your Family’s Lost a Loved One he wrote, “In the midst of my own pain and confusion, I suddenly also felt responsible to others to give an account for my progress. As the words of my reply come measured through my lips, I wondered if my report would be acceptable.”

The grieving person knows what the questioner most likely wants to hear — that everything is getting better, the world is getting brighter, the darkness is lifting, and the tears are subsiding. But oftentimes that just isn’t the way it is, and it is awkward to be honest about the confusion, listlessness, and loneliness of grief. The reality of grief is that sometimes right after the loss we feel strong, but as time passes, and the reality of life without that person settles in, we feel weak and weepy. And it’s awkward to talk about.

We’re afraid that if we tell you how sad we are, you might think there is something “wrong” with the way we’re doing this grief thing. We’re afraid you will assume we should be on a steady upward path toward normalcy and that we’re going in the wrong direction. Sometimes we want to scream that we will never be “normal” again. And sometimes we just want to say, “How am I? I’m sad. And I wish the world — including you — would simply give me some time and space to simply be sad. This person I loved has died and I miss him. He mattered to me and therefore it makes sense that I would not get over his absence easily or quickly.”

What Should You Say?

So as you interact with someone going through the lonely adjustment of grief, what should you ask in place of “How are you?” Here are some ideas:

What is your grief like these days? This question assumes that it makes sense that the person is sad and gives them the opportunity to talk about it.

I can’t imagine how hard it must be to face these days without (name of person who died). Are there particular times of day or days of the week you’re finding especially hard? Keep on saying the name of the person who died. It is music to the grieving person’s ears.

I find myself really missing (name of person who died) when I . . . It is a great comfort for the grieving person to know that he or she is not the only one who misses the person who died.

I often think of you when I’m (gardening/driving by your house/going for a walk/get up in the morning/etc.) and whisper a prayer for you to experience God’s comfort. Are there particular things I could be praying for you as you go through this time of grief?

I know that (name of the person who died)’s birthday/deathday is coming up and it must be so very hard to anticipate that day without him/her here. What are you thinking about that day? Is there anything we could do to help you get through that day?

I know the holidays/mother’s day/father’s day/your anniversary is coming up. I will be especially thinking of you and praying for you as that approaches. We would love to have you over, would you join us?
In a sense, all of these questions are asking, “How are you?” but somehow they express a desire to enter into the sorrow of another instead of merely getting a report on their sorrow. In this way we come alongside to “bear one another’s burdens” (Galatians 6:2).

Slow To Speak, Quick To Listen

3 Well Meaning (But Unhelpful) Approaches During Grief by Eric Geiger at Lifeway - Well worth the read (and the lessons)

As you likely know, Kaye’s father recently passed away. During this time the love, support, prayers, meals, notes of encouragement, and messages have been overwhelming. We have great neighbors and great friends. I cannot imagine grieving without the body of Christ surrounding us, encouraging us and loving us.

Watching Kaye grieve has been saddening and challenging, as at times I don’t really know what to say and when to say it. So, I just try and be there instead of trying to fix something. For my own sake, I have asked Kaye, “Now that we have gone through this—what things should I NOT say to someone in pain?”

Through the years as a pastor, and now as a husband more intimately involved, I have seen at least three well-meaning but unhelpful approaches to a grieving person.

The Cheerleader

The cheerleader attempts to encourage you that “things are going to be OK” and that “you can overcome this.” They attempt to pep talk you out of the pain, as if the pain can be removed quickly, and by doing so this unintentionally minimizes your pain.

The Concordance

The concordance pellets you with an array of Bible verses: “God works all things for good.” “Your joy will come in the morning.” Of course, you know these verses are true, but when the next morning still feels more like pain than joy, you wonder if something is wrong with you.

The Grief Topper

The grief topper compares your pain with his pain, and his tops yours. His story is more tragic, his loss more severe, which logically means that you should be grateful that you don’t have it as bad as he does.

In grief, the most loving and helpful thing one can offer is presence, not counsel. Presence is often expressed in a card, an email, a meal, a hug, or a visit. John Piper pondered this question about helping those who are hurting:

Can we learn something from Job’s friends about how to help the hurting? 

Absolutely. Those first seven days were their golden hour. If they had stopped there they would have been heroes, I think, because they would have shown compassion and patience. And that’s what we should learn.

When you walk into a horrific calamity you should be really slow to speak and quick to listen. You should be quick to cry, quick to hold, and quick to meet needs, bring meals, and wait upon the Lord. The theological wrestling comes later, probably.

It has been said often that the most equipped and prepared comforters are those who have been through the pain and the trials that others are facing. Perhaps those who have been comforted through seasons of grief are the best at comforting others because they learned the power of presence. They have experienced God’s love and goodness in the midst of the pain. Often He doesn’t come to us with answers, but He always comes to us with Himself. And really, He is all we need.

He comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any kind of affliction, through the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For as the sufferings of Christ overflow to us, so through Christ our comfort also overflows. (2 Corinthians 1:4-5)

Getting Wet With the Drowning

Found this very valuable post by Adam McHugh at Internet Monk: When Someone is in a Storm. This is an excerpt from Adam’s forthcoming book, The Listening Life (IVP, October 2015). Everyone who ever has to counsel or minister to someone who has undergone great emotional trauma needs to fully grasp and own this.

Nothing shuts down a person in pain like quoting the Bible at them. As I write that, I can hear the sirens of the Heresy Police surrounding my building. Yes, the Bible contains the words of life, the promises of God-with-us that have comforted saints and resurrected sinners. But the Bible can also be the ultimate conversation killer. It can be used as a tool for silencing people and for short-circuiting grief, hurt, and depression. Sometimes people use the Bible in a way that makes a hurting person feel like God is telling them to shut up.

I don’t like saying this, but it has been my experience that Christians are often worse at dealing with people in pain than others with different beliefs. Truth be told, I have chosen on many occasions to share my painful moments and emotions with non-Christians rather than Christians, because I knew I would be better heard. This saddens me. It seems to me that no one should run into the fire like Christians, because we follow a Savior who descended into hell. But we all know it is far less messy to stand over people in pain than it is to enter their worlds and risk feeling pain ourselves.

I once heard a ministry colleague say: “I’m going to be with a person in the hospital tonight. Time to speak some truth.” This idea prevails in many Christian circles, that preaching is the healing balm for suffering. Whether it’s sickness or divorce or job loss, a crisis calls for some sound Biblical exhortation. I have a number of issues with this. First, it assumes that the hurting person does not believe the right things or believe with enough fervency. They may end up receiving the message that their faith is not strong enough for them to see their situation rightly, or that something is wrong with them because they are struggling. Second, preaching to people in pain preys on the vulnerable. It’s stabbing the sword of truth into their wound, or doing surgery without anesthesia. Unwelcome truth is never healing. Third, “speaking truth” into situations of pain is distancing. You get to stand behind your pulpit, or your intercessory prayer that sounds strangely like a sermon, and the other person is a captive audience, trapped in the pew of your anxious truth. Suffering inevitably makes a person feel small and isolated, and preaching to them only makes them feel smaller and more alone.

Dr. Seuss wrote some classic stories, but he also gave some classically bad advice: “Don’t cry that it’s over. Smile that it happened.” Your role as a listener is, by all means, to let them cry that it’s over. Don’t be the Grinch who stole grief. Be a witness to their tears. Each falling tear carries pain and it’s the only way to get it out.

A hurting person is in a storm. They are cold, wet, shivering, and scared. Preaching, platitudes, and advice will not get them out of the storm. Don’t tell a person in a storm that it’s a sunny day. There will likely come a day when the clouds part, but it is not today. It’s not your job to pull them out of the storm. It’s your job to get wet with them.

A Year Of Grieving Dangerously

Read this. Please read this. From an interview with Kay Warren on the one year anniversary of the suicide death of her mentally ill son.

....I'm saying, "Don't push me to move on faster than I can go." In many ways you're forever changed. Jerry Sittser says in Grace Disguised, "It's really pointless to compare grief." When my father passed away six years ago at 86 with cancer, I grieved and I mourned and I wept, and it still touches my heart. On the other hand, my dad at 86 had lived a very full and rich life and had seen the fulfillment of his dreams and had a rich marriage.Image: Kay WarrenKay Warren and son Matthew.

I can tell you the experience of losing my 27-year-old, mentally ill son a year ago was not at all the same as losing my dad. He died young. He took his life, and he did it in a violent way. We are scarred. We have two decades of living with a severely mentally ill person that traumatized us. It's not clean grief. There's guilt. There's regret. There's horror.

The grief of my friend, whose daughter was murdered, has an aspect that's even different than mine. I haven't walked in her shoes. We're so quick to say, "Oh, I know how you feel," and we usually add the words exactly: "I know exactly how you feel." I want to say, "No. Excuse me. You do not." The best we can do is to say, "My heart breaks for you. I have experienced grief, and my heart aches for you....."

The Christian community needs to do better at helping people who grieve, and those with depression and other mental illnesses. Much more at the link.

If There Were No Minor Key

Would we know that the major chords were sweet, 

If there were no minor key? 

Would the painter’s work be fair to our eyes, 

Without shade on land or sea?

Would we know the meaning of happiness, 

Would we feel that the day was bright, 

If we’d never known what it was to grieve, 

Nor gazed on the dark of night?

“Many men owe the grandeur of their lives to their tremendous difficulties.” –Charles Spurgeon


Excerpt from the devotional Streams in the Desert 


Hat Tip: Mars Hill

On Reading and Living Job

I've been reading Job.

Without going into any details, the past year has been very hard on my wife and I, and we are both a a very down place. It just so happened that my Bible reading plan recently put me in the Book of Job - and oh did it seem relevant!

A lot of us in the blog-o-sphere* are still mourning the loss of Michael Spencer, the Internet Monk, to cancer back in April. Recently his widow, Denise Spencer, posted a heart-breakingly honest article called Sometimes It's Just Plain Hard about the ugliness of death, even for Christians. After reading that, I saw this piece by David Wayne, aka "The Jolly Blogger" -The Truth is Uglier Than We Think, God is More Beautiful Than we Realize. David is fighting his own battle with cancer. David said this regarding Denise Spencer's piece.

She didn't put it this way, but Christians know the glory story but they don't know the cross story. The glory story is that the Christian path is one of glory, observable, overcoming, obviously seen glories as the Christian triumphs over all his enemies. Thus, the Christian has ears to hear the stories of miraculous healings and beatific deaths because those are glory stories. These people live in a world where we can practice a mechanistic kind of magic with God.,,,,

...The cross story says that suffering is the path of the Christian. If you are a Christian, more than likely you will not go gently into that good night...The ugly truth is that the fall still applies and the fall means that the Christian path is a cross bearing path - if you are a Christian expect that life will be harder than you initially imagined it would

There are aspects of the knowledge of God that only come during the down times, the suffering times, the hurting and lonely times. We are in that now. Ours is not to the level of death, but it sometimes feels close to that level of pain. I can only pray that we will come out of it knowing him in a deeper way, and knowing that he is more beautiful then we realize.

* Yes, I know it sounds pretentious to place myself in the "blog-o-sphere", as if I belonged in the same league with Michael Spencer and David Wayne. I am conscious of my own limitations.