Note: this is a post that I originally put on my regular blog, but thought it might be good to post here as well.–Kerri
At a recent women’s gathering, the focus and the topic was on grief. The speaker was one who was well acquainted with grief, and he spoke honestly and tenderly, from his heart.
Our hearts were grieved with him and for him.
We thanked him for his willingness to help us understand how to minister to those who are weeping.
And we pondered his thoughts.
In our small group discussions, we wondered: how do we “handle” grief? How do we serve/love/come alongside those who are suffering and grieving? What exactly do we do?
Not any easy questions, and certainly not any easy answers.
However, one main point that came from our discussion was that in order to truly, deeply help someone who is going through suffering or grief, or anything they are going through, you have to know them. You have to get in there, get in their lives, know what’s going on. Build a relationship.
At one point, I think I said, “Ministry is proximity.”
Kind of simplistic, but I think there’s some simple truth to it. To know what’s going on in someone’s life, to be able to come alongside and be a comfort to them, you have to actually invest the time and effort into them; getting to know them, talking to them, hanging out with them, helping them.
It takes time. It takes effort. It’s not easy, usually, because it involves being a little less selfish than we usually like to be.
We tend to talk a lot lately about “community” and its importance. It’s true. It is important. But it is more than just “how ya doin’?” at a Sunday service or coffee time afterwards. It takes some intentionality. It is going to cost you something.
This is not the easiest thing for modern day American Christians, because, although we are hard-wired for community, we are educated and encultured for individuality. Boot strap mentality, good-old American can-do, the lone Ranger–all of these ideas and ideals have been stamped deeply upon us; not to mention the pervasive consumer mentality. Andrew Root in his article “The Attack of the Zombies: Why Community and Belonging are Hard to Construct” has some thoughts about this:
I can’t choose community like I choose my favorite coffee shop. I choose my favorite coffee shop because I like the atmosphere, the people seem interesting, and the coffee is good. I don’t feel obligated. If the décor changes or I switch from coffee to smoothies, I’m under no obligation to remain loyal. Our communities may feel like places where we really belong, but they are very easy to move on from, because they are based in our preference and taste, not in obligation. I like that I can easily choose in or out. But what happens if the monster of death gets me? What happens if I become so maimed that I become a burden to the community? What happens if those ravaged by seeing the monster face-to-face, those suffering from schizoid episodes, fill our communities? Will we stay? Will the community still exist? Or in other words, can a group of people face death even in the pits of hell and remain together? What will keep them together? Preference, taste, and style are no match for the monster of death.
Romans 7:24: “Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!”
Isaiah 25:8: “He will swallow up death forever; and the Lord God will wipe away tears from all faces, and the reproach of his people he will take away from all the earth, for the Lord has spoken.”
Revelation 21: 3-4: “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning nor crying nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”
“The monster of death” is pretty scary. But it helps us to see that the glue that will hold our community together is not can-do spirit or a strong will. The power to get involved in others’ lives, to truly love and serve unselfishly, to pour out without keeping a mental ledger of what is “owed”–that comes from the One who overcame the monster of death, over whom death has no victory and has lost its sting. In that power and grace, we can move forward boldly into each other’s lives, knowing that anything that we pour out into each other will be returned to us one hundred times over and more, when we rush into the arms of Jesus, who poured out his everything– for us.
Thanks for posting this Kerri. I really liked the conversation that day, and the understanding that our speaker gave to us on such a hard & tricky topic. As I shared in my group that day, I personally don’t feel as if I’ve ever had *hard* suffering, like what was talked about that Thursday morning, in my life, yet I’ve been around it many, many times…and have never known how to respond lovingly (or really, at all). I feel a bit more confident in this now, after hearing the women of my group talk about it, too.
Thanks,
Sarah M