If you walked into an otherwise uniform church auditorium with rows of matching chairs and then saw, a few rows from the back, one large office chair with a big husband pillow sitting in it, what would you think?
“What an eyesore. That doesn’t look great. It takes away from the aesthetic. That is kind of distracting. No wonder it is in the back. Why not put it against the wall in the foyer?”
Those were my thoughts for a while, when I sat in it for the first time. I was almost embarrassed. I hated that it brought attention to the fact that there is something wrong with me. From the outside, I look fine, but when you sit down in a chair like that with your arms propped up on a pillow, it feels like a flashing sign and arrow pointing at me saying, “Look, something is wrong with Casey!”
It took some time to work on my pride, but once I waded through that, I saw what it actually represented. It was a reflection of my church’s love for its congregation. It was an example of them bearing my burdens the best they could.
For almost a year, my pain had gotten to the point where I couldn’t sit through a full service. I usually ended up standing in the back, strongly considering leaving, but after not being able to step into a church for years, I hated the thought. It would feel like I was going backwards.
On one occasion, I was talking to one of the pastors, who has known me and my story for some time. He wanted an update on how I’d been feeling, and without thinking, I was very honest with him.
Instead of just saying “I’m sorry to hear that. I will keep praying,” he did say that, but then he asked, “How can I help?”
I asked if we could get different chairs, one for church and another for Equip (Sunday school). He told me to pick some. After requesting them, I felt like a burden and I told him that I felt as if I were being “extra,” for lack of a better term at that moment. He said that, no, I was not being extra, but that my request was allowing him to see others who might need this option too. My honesty opened an opportunity to help others.
This is not the first time this church has carried my burdens. There have been different times when I have felt loved by them in ways that left me overwhelmed. I have told them that I am not used to kindness, but they continue to say, “Get used to it,” as they smile and pull me into a hug.
The thing is, I never want to get used to it. I want to be truly thankful when someone chooses to walk this life with me. I don’t want to take it for granted. I just need to allow them to do so.
After doing a good portion of this chronic pain journey on my own, other than my family, I have learned to do just that: life on my own. Barely asking for help. Not allowing anyone to help me with the load of my burdens. I have gone so far as to deny help from others who have seen me with my hands full and come running toward me, arms outstretched, asking to take the obvious burdens from me, knowing that carrying too much can literally cause more pain.
I want to carry others’ burdens, literal and life, but it takes so much for me to allow others to do the same for me. I am a work in progress, and it is getting better, but it is taking time.
Galatians 6:2 says:
“Carry one another’s burdens; in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.“
“One another.” That means I can’t just carry everyone else’s burdens. I need to let others carry mine. Which also means being honest about them.
Now I don’t think everybody and their brother needs to know my story and my burdens. Not everyone is capable of holding every kind of burden. I might need someone I can talk to about my loneliness in singleness and trying to be content in God while glorifying Him in it. Another person might be gifted in being there when the burden of chronic pain is far too heavy and I don’t know how I can do this for the rest of my life. Some are gifted in being there to carry many different kinds of burdens.
Unfortunately, sometimes you find out the hard way that the person you shared your burden with has no idea how to carry it. There might be moments when you decide to, for once, answer a friend’s “How are you?” with an honest “Not great,” but they stare back at you blankly and say, “Well, I gotta go. Bye.” And you are left clutching the backpack of your burdens alone.
Selah
Now, I know I mentioned that not everyone is capable of holding every kind of burden, yet as Christians, we are called to bear one another’s burdens! At least try! If someone expresses that they are struggling and you do not know how to comfort them, you do not need to throw out a cliché here and there. Be honest that you do not have the words but offer a listening ear. Sometimes the act of silence and your presence are great gifts, and that in and of itself lightens a load in ways you may never imagine. It might seem small to you, but it can make a difference far more than you will ever know.
When you have versions of this happen enough times, you find yourself cementing walls around you, and the trust issues settle in. It has taken years for me to open up again, and I am thankful for the people that God has brought across my path who have been patient with me and reminded me of this truth: we aren’t meant to do life on our own.
At the beginning of the process, some of them had to pry my fingers away from the burdens I clutched so tightly because I was afraid of being let down, being hurt again, and burdening others when I knew good and well that they carried burdens of their own. I would never exclaim, “Don’t tell me your burdens! I already have too many of my own!” Yet, when it came to sharing my own, I would make that decision for them. In doing so, I was taking away their opportunity to do as God called them to do: “carry one another’s burdens.”
I want the opportunity to carry someone’s burden because I care for others. I want them to feel seen, known and loved. So why not allow others to do so for me just because I feel too burdensome?
Also, receiving can be an act of love.
Joni Eareckson Tada will forever be one of my heroes of the faith. I got to meet her at one of her book signings. We talked for a short time, and I was allowed to get a picture taken with her. She proclaimed, “Cheek to cheek,” as we posed for the picture. I happily leaned in, clutching the cane I had to use at the time, until my 5’10” self was cheek to cheek with Joni sitting in her wheelchair.
I gave you just the Reader’s Digest version of the encounter, but the meeting will forever hold a special place in my memories. That woman has met so many people, so she wouldn’t be able to pick me out in a crowd or remember my name, but she is remembered by many. The impact she has made will not be fully grasped until Heaven.
Not too long ago, she shared with her listeners that she lost the use of the arm she used to feed herself. In the past, she was able to feed herself despite her quadriplegia. She was able to raise her arm high enough, and with the use of a bent spoon and arm splint, she found a small measure of independence in the ability to eat on her own. When she recently lost that ability, she grieved, mourned and lamented that loss, for it was one of the last things she could do on her own. She cherished the moments when she was able to share a meal with her husband, Ken, so asking him to feed her was depressing. Then, she began allowing others to help feed her.
The Tada family now has a rotation of people who come to their home to feed Joni, lightening the load for both Joni and Ken so they may eat together. Joni “blesses” each person’s hands by praying for them before they feed her. She thanks God for them and asks that He bless each and every person. From the outside, it looks like she is passively being helped, yet she is actively praying for them, loving them, blessing them, and ministering to them in the best Joni way. Each person’s burdens are being actively lightened at that moment.
How can we actively do this well within the body of Christ? Maybe when we greet each other, instead of saying “How are you?” say it, but add “Honest answers only.” Because we all know that when we answer that, we are usually lying through our teeth. “I’m fine! Peachy keen! Living the dream! Great! Fantastic!” when behind closed doors, we wept at Jesus’ feet again, we don’t know how we are going to keep going on, and God knows very well we aren’t “Peachy keen.”
Even if you don’t ask for honest answers only, if someone decides to be honest for once, sit with them in that if they need it. Don’t let the discomfort or the surprise of the unexpected honesty chase you away. You have no idea how difficult it is for someone to finally open up. For some, things might have gotten extremely bad if they finally found the courage to open up and spill it. Thank them for their honesty and encourage them in that.
Selah
I don’t want everyone to worry every time someone decides to be honest, but I can’t go on without saying, knowing that September is Suicide Prevention Awareness Month, that someone’s honesty might be their cry for help. They might be desperately hoping that someone will hear them and take them seriously, because not everyone who is thinking about suicide will tell you. They might be sharing about how everything has been hard and how overwhelmed they are, but they might not say, “I’m suicidal.” That’s another reason why it is also important to not ignore the moments when someone starts opening up.
If you don’t have the words to say in response to their honesty, still sit with them in that, but also help them find someone who can help! You can also tell them about the 988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline they can call. Offer to sit next to them when they call 988 so they don’t have to do that alone.
And if you gave them all you could give, sat with them, prayed with them, helped them get help, and they still died by suicide, do not add that burden to your shoulders. You did what you could. We can help carry someone’s burden, but we cannot take ownership of another human being’s life or the decisions they make. Do not add that to the other burdens you already carry.
I will now be revealing my nerdy self to you all. One of my favorite pictures of carrying one another’s burdens comes from The Lord of the Rings. If you haven’t read the books or watched the movies, that is alright. I will get you caught up. Cozy up as I tell you about the epic quest without giving too many spoilers, just in case you want to read the books or watch the movies. Very long story as short as possible, there once was a magical Ring created by an evil being named Sauron, who poured part of his own power into it. This Ring was once “separated” from Sauron during a terrible battle and claimed by a king. The king was later killed, and the Ring fell into a river, being lost to time. Nearly 2,500 years later, the Ring was found, and its new bearer discovered why it should have remained lost. The longer someone possessed the Ring, the more its darkness began to corrupt their mind, and eventually their body. Time and years went on as he lived in exile, and he soon lost the Ring…or it was stolen from him, depending on whom you asked. Many more years later (did I tell you it was a long story?), a wise wizard named Gandalf became suspicious of what the Ring was and what it could do to his friend who found and/or stole it. When his friend planned to leave his home behind, Gandalf strongly urged him to leave the Ring behind as well. Once Gandalf confirmed that it was indeed the One Ring, he knew it had to be destroyed before it could destroy anyone else. For various reasons, Gandalf knew that becoming the bearer of the Ring and its other undisclosed powers would be dangerous, even if his intention was to destroy it. The Ring had to be taken on a long journey to be destroyed in the only place that could get rid of it, Mount Doom. Eventually, the burden of carrying the Ring to its doom fell to our friend Frodo, a hobbit. Hobbits were less susceptible to the kind of temptation the Ring bore, but less susceptible did not mean immune. His faithful friend Sam, not wanting Frodo to go into the unknown alone, went with him.
For the next six months, Frodo carried the burden of the Ring toward its destruction, with Sam faithfully journeying beside him. As time went on, Sam began to watch as his friend was slowly overcome by the burden he carried. It began to pluck at his mind, his actions, and even his behavior.
Frodo carried the Ring on a chain around his neck rather than wearing it on his finger, because…well, there are very good reasons for that…but spoilers. On this journey, the Ring became so physically heavy that its weight began to injure the back of Frodo’s neck. Sam watched as his best friend was slowly ground down, mentally and physically, by this One Ring.
When they finally began the climb up Mount Doom, Frodo was so overcome by what his mind and body had endured that his body gave up, and he fell to the ground. He couldn’t go on. They were so close to the end, yet Frodo had no more strength. He looked up at Sam and said, “I can’t go on!”
Sam looked down at his friend, who couldn’t bear the weight anymore, and said, “I can’t carry it for you, but I can carry you!”
Sam, our faithful friend, lifted Frodo onto his back and carried him up Mount Doom. Sam couldn’t carry the Ring for Frodo. That was his task. But Sam looked at what he could carry and said, “Let me carry you.”
Outside of the fantasy world, and into our own, some of that means carrying someone in prayer. If they share a burden with you, don’t just say you will pray. Maybe actually ask them if you could pray then and there with them. Then actually pray. If someone comes to mind, reach out to them, whether you know of a burden they’re carrying or not. Ask them how they are. Ask them how you could specifically pray for them. Ask them how you could help. If they give you a specific answer, meet the need, or if it is beyond your means, reach out to others who could help them with that.
I know we are all busy, but reaching out through a text and asking them these things doesn’t take long. Every once in a while, reach out again, because, as you know, carrying a burden is tiresome and wearisome. Asking for prayer yet again, for the umpteenth time, is sometimes unbearable. Be the one to reach out to them once in a while. Sometimes offer to come over, and cook a meal for them or watch a movie…maybe The Lord of the Rings. You don’t have to talk. Sometimes a friendly presence is what is needed that day.
And to those who are chronic burden hiders, may we learn to let others help us carry our burdens the best they can. Stop trying to be everyone’s Sam without letting yourself be Frodo. I understand that it’s hard when you naturally carry others’ burdens, but when it is your turn to have your burdens carried and no one helps you, it is heartbreaking. But we can’t let ourselves look through the scope of the past. There are still Sams out there, and when they show up, it is so healing.
Now, when I see that oversized chair in the back, it is a representation of my church carrying my burdens. Friends have told me that visitors ask about it, and they say, “Oh yeah, I have a friend who has chronic pain, and she was told to pick a chair so she could be more comfortable.” So that oversized chair is not only a gift to me, but it speaks volumes to others before they even see me sit in it. I see a chair that doesn’t take away from the beauty of the church after all. It is evidence of the beauty of the Church and her members doing what God has called them to do: “Carry one another’s burdens.”
Selah: What part of this entry do you feel like represents you more? Do you feel like you need to let others help you carry your burdens? Or do you need to be the one who helps others carry theirs? How will you actively help or receive as you carry one another’s burdens today?
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