A Helper for the Helpless

Have you ever walked through a day of such intense pain that you thought you could not make it? Have you ever felt the tears burning behind your eyes but were unable to shed them because the responsibilities of the day called for composure? Have you ever sat and stared at a wall and wondered how you will continue to move, breathe, or even think? I have learned that people don’t like honesty when it is inconvenient for them. And when someone greets you with a “How are YOU today?” They don’t always actually want to know. Because yesterday I told a few people how I was doing and they got that confused/pinched look that says, “Go away, Son. You bother me,” as perfected by W. C. Fields in years gone by.

Now I don’t want to be cruel, because in all honesty, it’s not fair to unburden my problems on the unsuspecting acquaintance. This is why disciplining my tongue is so important. Our words(especially when filled with pain) can infect and hurt people. I sat next to a woman at a previous place of employment and her words were filled with every conceivable complaint nearly every moment of the day. It was tiresome. Mainly because there was nothing I could do to fix it. My point is this, sometimes, whether we like it or not, our pain is SO big that it just seeps out. And then we stand there in this uncomfortable space of trying to mop up our mess with words like, “It’s not really as bad as I just said.” Or better yet, we slink away and hide under our rock and cry like an embarrassed child.

This morning I read a fantastic blog post from my new friend, Holly, where she talked about God being her hiding place. She described in acute detail the pain of food addiction and her struggle to break free from it. This comes on the tail end of another post by a friend who is going through menopause and the fiery pain she experiences that keeps her awake at night. Lisa Buffaloe described how she gives each wave of heat and ache to God as an offering of worship. That is how she walks through her suffering. And I was humbled and amazed with the practicality of it. How often I have run from my pain instead of facing up to and bravely walking through it. When we choose to live in community with people who use their words to make us stronger, we have the incredible opportunity to not only learn from them, but grow. And God, who is the source of all right reasoning(a quote stolen from Ravi Zacharias) pours out his love in this vast river of beauty and nourishes our hearts. And all we have to do is dip our fingers in the water and lift it to our lips.

But what happens when the pain is too big—even for that?

This morning as I was walking in to work, I hopped up the steps in my purposeful gait to reach the interior of the building as quickly as humanly possible. I walk the same path every day—up the stairs and under the portico at the entrance to my company. It is a mad scramble as I walk among my peers—dozens of them—and race for the revolving doors. This morning I nearly stepped on a piece of mud. I caught myself just before I squished my foot in it, only to realize it wasn’t a blob of clay after all, but rather, an unfortunate tree frog. He blended so well with the sidewalk that I felt it was clearly a miracle that I saw him at all. I supposed him dead and hesitated to touch him. I was fearful that I might get frog guts on my fingers. Also, there’s this part of me that hurts when creatures suffer, and sometimes it is emotionally safer for me to leave them alone. But something(some One) compelled me to look closer and I determined that he was not crushed or dead. I picked him up. He was drier than he should be. And his nose was scraped. The suddenly warm/suddenly cool air and recently manicured bushes (the gardeners had destroyed his froggy habitat) had obviously drawn him out of the bushes. And he found himself stranded in the busiest walking path at my company. I held him for a brief moment and as he warmed, he nestled closer to my palm and I knew that he was alive. And so I carried him into the bushes—into the warm mud(in my nice shoes I might add) and placed him in a moist place in the safety of tall grass. And then I busted my shins racing up to my desk.

And it occurred to me that so often I am just like that unfortunate frog. I am weary and worn out, and I find myself in a dangerous place with no way to remove myself of my own volition. And God, with a heart full of grace, bends down to remove me from my circumstance and put me in a safe place.

And even when he does not, He stands with me. He weeps with me, because He knows I am human and fragile and weak. It is precious to me the way His love endures when mine fails.

Today is such a beautiful day. And not because the weather is warm and the sun is shining. Not because it’s Friday(though I am SO glad it is Friday). But because today I saw a glimpse into the heart of God by way of his vast and mysterious character as displayed through a tiny little creature that was utterly and completely helpless.

“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.”  –Matthew 10:29-31

“His Eye is on the Sparrow and I know he watches me.”  Civilla Martin