The Balm of Loving Presence

When you find yourself staring at an unexpected reality that doesn’t fit into the Christian box that you have known all your life.
The right “Christian” words just don’t fit.
You know truth in your head.
He is good.
He will provide.
He will never forsake.
He is faithful.
He has a plan.
Just trust Him.
When you share your broken heart, shattered dreams, confused existence, and it’s met with such words, it feels flat.
Most of my life consisted of repeating the mantra of Christian Words. I was probably one of the most cliche of all. Throwing out Christian quick fixes when life was tough or didn’t make sense. Slapping on “Jesus bandages” to gaping wounds.
Because I didn’t get it.
Until a few years ago.
When life flipped upside down and everything I had ever believed about God, and living the Christian life was shattered.
During a time when we were facing probably the biggest trial we had faced in our marriage up to that point. Everything I have ever believed had been put to the test. I wrote in my journal,
“We have felt so lost and alone and I have even cried out to God, ‘where are you in the midst of this?’. I KNOW in my head God has not left us, that He still loves us, but my heart is being seriously tested. I know truth but I don't feel the truth in my life…
“I have found that people saying to me ‘God will provide’ or ‘He is always faithful’ are not comforting at all. They sound nice, and I think they are probably the easiest thing Christians often think to say to someone in a hard situation. But let me tell you, when you have been stripped and you stand naked with a bleeding heart, and your emotions are so raw, those things just do not comfort. I know they should, but they just don't right now. I have taken no offense at those who have said them, because I know they mean well. In fact, I have said them to others before who were facing something hard…
“I am learning that when someone is going through something hard, sometimes the best thing is not to always throw Christian clichés at them, even though they are meant with the best intentions. Sometimes it is just best to listen and to love on that person. It's not always best to try and offer advice or to try and relate to what they are going though when clearly you can’t.”
That experience proved to be a turning point in my walk with the Lord. We walked through fire and hell (and if I am honest, that was only a few years ago, and we are continuing to walk on that same path effected by all the collateral damage from those days). They were some of the darkest days I have ever known. Words did not help me thought it. It was the friends who came alongside. They cried with me. They listened while I talked and spilled my pain. They sat in awkward silence over the phone when I couldn’t choke out words through sobs. They showed up with food. They hugged. They prayed. They were the hands and feet and arms of Jesus wrapped up in the gift of many things.
I remember one time I called a dear friend crying, and nearly yelling over the phone in anger and pain because of the injustice of our situation. After a time she said to me, “Do you want me to give advice or did you just need to vent.” There was nothing sarcastic in the way she said it. It was an honest question that I appreciated. She had the courage to ask me what I needed in that moment. And in that moment I just needed to be heard. Later there came a time for her to speak truth to me, when I was ready, but that initial shock and awe moment I just needed to vent.
Friends like that are worth gold.
Sometimes I slip back to old habits, and forget to be that friend who offers the balm of listening. In fact just yesterday I had a conversation with a friend who is hurting, and my one of the things I did was to talk about our future hope of eternal glory with God. While that is a beautiful truth and reminder, it probably wasn’t the right moment to say it. What I unintentionally did was minimize her pain by trying to be spiritual. It’s easy to offer a Word. It’s hard to sit silent with a suffering friend. I don’t know why that’s harder. Maybe because we want everything to be okay, to fix the problem. But for those hurting, they just want you to be there. To know they are loved. To know that their pain is validated. There is a time and a place for speaking the truth, finding the right time is the key. More often then not the right thing is to just listen.
I have found, the most courageous loving path often does not involve what our “Churched” instincts tell us to do- speak words. It involves being the soothing agent of presence, and loving arms.

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