Pastor's Corner: Helping without hurting

The reality of our human condition right now is that we are all so caught up in our pain and our own interests that we have forgotten to show up for one another; we have forgotten to see the humanity in each other.

We are with Job again in the aftermath of losing everything — his wealth, his possessions, and his own children. Throughout the Book of Job, there is an ongoing dialogue between Job and three of his friends; his friends started out so well by offering him their comforting presence in silence for seven days but then they begin to offer him advice instead, a temptation we all fall into! They are going to tell him exactly why, in their view, all these bad things have happened to him. They all are saying, essentially, the same thing: If you were punished, you must have deserved it. Bad things only happen to bad people. When we hear something terrible, it is a very normal instinct to try to work out in our minds why we personally are immune to such an event.

Job’s three friends are engaged in the very familiar and recognizable human activity. It’s called denial. Sigmund Freud identified denial as a psychological mechanism that kicks in when we are faced with facts or circumstances that are frightening, threatening or just plain uncomfortable. Our response is either: to deny the truth of what has been presented; to minimize the significance of that truth; or to admit its truthfulness but at the same time come up with some explanation that reduces its impact upon us.

So how do we react to suffering, ours or someone else’s? Are we honest or do we say only what we think we should say? Job’s laments give us permission to lament, to bring our deepest hurts, fears and anger to God in prayer and to know that God hears. And often, God is personified in a loving friend.

The honest truth is we are not that unlike Job’s friends. Sometimes the things we say to try to make sense of pain are pretty useless too.

In the worst moments of someone’s life, they really aren’t looking for our advice or lived experiences, things like “in my long life, I’ve learned that ...” or “I’ve done some research and …” or “when my cousin had cancer.” We usually say things like this when we are genuinely trying to relate and connect. But depending on the circumstance, a person is going to have a team of resources and professionals working on their behalf; they need you to be a kind, listening ear, not an expert on their pain. I promise that if they want your opinion, they will ask for it.

Also, we need not try to become the voice of God. “It’s going to get better, I promise.” We are not fairy godmothers so that’s going to be a tough one to back up when things go badly. We cannot guarantee good outcomes.

Let the hurting person dictate how much of their story they want to tell. It is exhausting to tell the most horrible details of your life over and over and over. Often our questions dictate a starting point. But by letting them choose where to start, details might come about randomly — and that is probably the most authentic version of their truth. And other times, we just want to talk about any other aspect of our life than how sad we are.

This all comes as tough news to me who is decisively an Ennegram 2 “The Helper.” I want to help, I want to fix your pain. So let’s think about some of these instead.

At the church I grew up at, they have a “ministry of the casserole.” Don’t underestimate the power of feeding someone. Often times, people in crisis moments can never figure out something to tell people they need, even if they really need it, and cannot possibly make another decision. So bake your love into a casserole and deliver it to their doorstep, no strings attached!

“Oh, friend, that sounds so hard.” Perhaps the weirdest thing about having something awful happen is the fact that no one wants to hear about it. So pull up a chair and let them talk for a bit. Be willing to stare down the ugliness and sadness. Life is absurdly hard and it is exhausting to pretend that it isn’t.

Affirm them! Comments like these go a long way. Everyone wants to know they are doing a good job without feeling like they are learning a lesson. So tell your friend something about their life that you admire without making it feel like a eulogy.

Or maybe best of all, be silent. The truth is that no one knows what to say. Pain is awkward. But take this advice we’ve all heard: show up and shush up. I know that sounds a bit trite, but really, don’t forget to show up. Before you speak, ask yourself: is it kind? Is it necessary? Is it true? Does it improve the silence?

When you don’t know what to say or do, think back to a hard moment of your life. Maybe someone showed up for you in the way you needed, or maybe, no one did. Be the person that you needed in that moment. I think our own experience is the best teacher — not to throw our experience into someone else’s face or give them our unsolicited wisdom — but to show up in the ways we needed in our own worst moments. God is already there.

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The Rev. Maggie Lewis

Chinook Presbyterian Church

First Presbyterian Church, Havre