One of the things that she talked about last night was the concept
of pain. I’m sure I’m about to totally butcher what she was trying to say, but
my takeaway of what she said is that so many Christians think that suffering is
something that we aren’t supposed to feel for very long. That we are supposed
to get through it in a scripted amount of time without bogging people down in
our pain. But what we are really supposed to do sometimes, the healthiest thing
we can do, is to just sit in our pain. And to know that Jesus is there with us,
every hour, every minute, every second. And that often our friends are right there
too, surrounding us with their protection and their love, until Jesus has done
the work of healing our hearts and we can step back into the fight again.
I blogged a few months ago about my own experiences of
sitting on my pile of dust and ashes, waiting to heal. It’s not an easy place
to be sometimes. The chairs aren’t as cushy, the floor isn’t as clean, and
sometimes people aren’t very comfortable visiting you while you’re there. But
it’s in those times that we often feel Jesus the most.
I think often we try to put on an appearance to the outside
world that everything is okay, when really it isn’t. When people ask us how we
are doing, we automatically say I’m fine, when the truth is we are falling
apart.
Our Facebook posts and our Instagram photos show the good
and happy snapshots of our lives, when the truth is there are at least 100 life
snapshots of sadness or anger or shame for every 1 happy one that we post for
the rest of the world to see.
Unless what is happening to us is something that is
universally accepted as a hard time, such as the death of a loved one, we are
hesitant to say that we aren’t okay. Even in those situations, we only feel
comfortable being honest about our grief for a short time before we feel the
pressure, either externally or internally, to pull ourselves up by our
bootstraps and move on.
Why do we fear being vulnerable to admit that things aren’t
as good as we want them to be? As they appear to be? As others expect them to
be?
It’s okay to not be okay.
I have learned in these past months by working through my
own history of shame and grief, reading the works of experts on shame and
vulnerability, listening to the wise words of those who know what it is to love
God in all God’s forms, and through my own experiences with opening my mouth and
my heart to share my struggles and pain with all of you, that there can be
great beauty in vulnerability. That there can be great connection to others by
being real about your struggles and your pains. That there can be great healing
of deep wounds by exposing them to the light and to the air. And I’ve learned
that Jesus is never closer to me than when I am hurting, and when I am scared,
and when I feel most alone.
It’s okay to not be okay.
If you are in a place today where you’re not okay, be it your
physical health, your mental health, relationship problems with your spouse or
your children, your job, demons from your past, struggles with substance abuse,
or whatever is making you not okay, know that you are not alone.
It’s okay to not be okay.
Find someone that you trust to be real with. Someone you can
take off your mask of perfection in front of. Someone to sit with you and hold
your hand while you’re on your pile of dust and ashes. And find a group of
someones who will put you in the middle of their circle, and surround you with their
care, and their love, and their protection, until you’re strong enough to step
back into the fight.
It’s okay to not be okay.
It’s not only okay to ask for help when you aren’t okay, but
it’s faithful. You may be surprised by who shows up to be your rear guard or to
go ahead of you. God will be there. Because that’s what is promised us in Psalm
34:18. The message version of the Bible reads this way: “If your heart is
broken, you’ll find God right there; if you’re kicked in the gut, he’ll help
you catch your breath.” God shows that promise to us every day, through God’s
presence, and through the presence of others, when we are only brave enough to
admit that things aren’t as shiny as we pretend them to be.
It’s okay to not be okay.
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