Have you ever heard the saying, “God will never give you more than you can handle”? What about “everything happens for a reason,” or “love the sinner; hate the sin”? These common Christian phrases all hold truth, but are often used as easy answers to hard situations. The problem is, adages such as these come off as being dismissive to what another person is feeling. In the midst of tragedy or trauma having a person tell me “God will never give you more than you can handle,” communicates to me a message of “buck-up, Buttercup! You should not let this be a big issue for you.”
When we reach for sayings such as these, I don’t believe the intent is ever to diminish what someone is going through.
However, there exists this unspoken belief that when a person is struggling with something hard we have to say the right thing. We search for words to bring comfort, hope, faith, and peace to soften life’s blows. But can words, no matter how tenderly or sincerely spoken, really diminish devastation?
God has taken me through multiple phases of healing.
Sometimes it was with the help of a professional counselor, other times He used the listening ear of my husband or a friend. During one such time I came to the stark realization that I had been lying to myself for years. Different incidents had occurred in the past, and they felt difficult in the moment. I had convinced myself I was blowing these memories out of proportion, and I should stop being so ridiculous. However, after digging up these hurtful moments one after another, my husband was able to validate my hurt. He showed me that I wasn’t being attention seeking or dramatic, but that in each incident my reaction was natural and understandable. This released a flood of hurt in me. The emotions I had been pushing off through decades of denial were washing over me all at once. I sobbed freely, weeping deeply from my soul.
Adam did the very best thing he could for me in that moment—he said nothing.
He held me close and allowed me to cry until I was done. Adam did not shush me or try to calm me. He simply sat there with me and allowed me to feel. When I was done crying, he continued to hold my hand, and simply said he was sorry I had gone through all of those things. He did not try to justify, explain, or reason them away.
John tells us in his gospel, chapter 11, that when Jesus’ friend Lazarus passed away Jesus was deeply moved.
When Jesus arrived at the house of Mary and Martha, Lazarus’ sisters, he knew he would raise Lazarus from the dead (v. 4). Despite this, he did not chastise Mary, Martha, or any of the others for their mourning. Instead, he acknowledged their grief on a personal level and wept himself. He spent time with the women, listened to their distress, and was sincerely grieved.
When Adam listened to me, and allowed me to express my raw emotions without trying to make me feel better, something amazing happened. I found healing. I was able to process through each deep hurt by verbally identifying it, sitting in the raw truth of it, and then acknowledging that it happened in the past but does not define who I am today.
True healing comes through sitting in the hard, ugly, or terrifying truth for a time.
The best way we can help others, or ourselves, is to give each person the chance to just be. Platitudes may make us feel better in the moment, but they are rarely helpful in the long run.
This may feel difficult and awkward at first, but it is worth a try. The next time someone close to you is hurting, would you be willing to sit in the moment with them and love them through it? What do you think it would feel like if someone was willing to do this for you?
