Burdens

Right now, in my immediate circle of family and friends, I am praying for eleven people who are looking for jobs—one just laid off Friday.

I have two close friends who have had serious (potentially life-threatening) pregnancy complications in the past week, and they still aren’t out of the woods.

Unknown thousands of people have lost lives, homes, all material possessions in Haiti after the earthquake.

At my church, there were funerals for five or six people in the last two weeks.

I’ve been getting daily updates from another young woman, whose friend was air-lifted to Mayo, has had one surgery and is facing open-heart surgery next week.

My boss just moved into a lovely home—but he got it because the previous owners were not able to pay their mortgage and lost it. And there are those close to me who are facing the same situation.

All these burdens—not mine, per se, but very real and big in the lives of people I love—what do I do with them? How do I care for people whose worlds hold such difficult and life-altering circumstances?

I don’t want to condescend with platitudes. I don’t want to pose with spiritual suggestions or pat their hand, encouraging them to claim God’s promises for victory and solutions to all their problems.

Certainly, God has given a Solution to all their problems. And He has assured a triumph that will never be overthrown. But in the moment of pain and perplexity, perhaps I am not the voice they need to hear, reminding them of those never-failing truths.

My Bible reading this morning took me to Psalm 16:

“Preserve me, O God, for I take refuge in You. I said to the LORD, ‘You are my Lord; I have no good besides You.’”

The honesty of the Psalms is a comfort, especially when my words sound hollow and trite, even in my own ears.

“I have set the LORD continually before me; because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.”

I don’t always know when to speak and when just to listen. But I know the Comforter is near and helps us in our weakness—for we don’t always even know how to pray, but the Spirit intercedes for us with groaning too deep for words.

So for now, I pray that the Lord will draw eyes to Himself. That I may be a help and encouragement. That the Lord will prompt me to speak or shut up. And that in the very midst of difficulty, His reality, His power, His beauty, His purposes, His provision, His majesty, His holiness, His tenderness, His attentiveness, His comfort, His mercy, and His glory will become deeply sweet and hopeful to the ones who suffer most acutely—that God Himself will be their portion and their joy.

And may it be for me too. My job and my life are in His hands, just like them.

[I started writing these thoughts on Saturday but wanted to ruminate a little longer. Last night, I was listening to a sermon and felt so encouraged by the exhortation to cultivate faith; it seemed to fit well. It starts at about 12:08.]



May God increase my capacity to trust and love Him in the best and worst of times.