A present help in times of trouble

     Today was very ordinary.  I went to the gym to do one of my favorite things: take a group dance class from one of my favorite instructors, and talk to my friends at the gym who are also regulars.  Though I don't know them as well, they are dear to me and I look forward to the mutual encouragement we share about our fitness goals.

     Right between the two classes, one of my friends got a text that a high school friend of hers had been shot yesterday and had died.  Of course this was terribly shocking news and my friend burst into tears right there in the group X room.  Another friend and I shuffled her out into the hallway and sat with her as she cried a bit and tried to process this terrible shock.  We listened as she talked about her friend, the kind of person she was, and how felt guilty for not getting together with her more.

     As a person uncomfortable with conflict or distressing situations, this would have been really hard for me to do a few years ago.  But now, as I come to know Jesus more, I saw it in a different way.  I feel it is a privilege to be witness to another's suffering.  I used to be very into things being the "right way", things going just as planned, everything being perfect, how people should act was almost scripted in my expectations.  I got awfully upset if people veered away from how I thought they should act.  I lived in almost constant disappointment.

     But life isn't like that, is it?  We aren't perfect.  Situations are messy.  People are messy.  Terrible things happen.  Plans get ruined.  Life is interrupted.  It's all a part of the beautiful mess that is humanity.

     And into such a mess stepped Jesus, the Perfect One.

     Talk about broken dreams and ruined plans!  Jesus, the King, left His heavenly court where everything was perfect.  He willingly plunged head-first into this awkward and annoyingly common thing known as human life.  He had trouble meeting deadlines.  He got yelled at by people who were having a bad day.  He stubbed his toes.  He had family members and friends die and wept awkward, inconvenient tears, knowing the pain of loss.  He was well acquainted with our grief.

     My thinking was on Him today as I sat with my friend against the steel wall at the gym.  What a privilege to be with another person as she experiences pain.  What an absolute honor to witness suffering.  I feel that Jesus feels honored when we let Him into our naked suffering.  He's not ashamed when we cry.  He's not ashamed when snot is dripping off our noses and onto our pillows when someone hurts us.  He is there with us and feels our suffering with us.  It isn't awkward to Him.

     I like to picture Him with me, placing his hands on my head, wiping away my tears as they drip off my nose.  Because I believe He really is doing that.  Not in a distant, metaphorical way, but as someone actually sitting there doing it.  There is no shame in crying with Him.  He's honored.  There is no "right way" to grieve.  Just grieve with Him, and He's got it covered.


Psalm 46: 1
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in times of trouble.