A few years ago I heard Colin Powell describe what it’s like to visit hospitals full of recovering soldiers who’ve lost an arm, a leg or sometimes both. He said, “I never say to them: ‘I’m sorry that this happened to you.’ These men don’t want pity and misery—they want to talk about their battles. So the first thing I ask is always ‘Were you a good soldier?’ That’s the perfect opportunity for them to talk about their battle.”
Profound.
Today a sweet, sweet friend of mine told me that her heart is completely broken. Knowing her circumstances, I believe it. The Lord put her into the fire two months ago, and last weekend He unexpectedly put her into a whole different kind of fire.
Everything in me wanted to respond: “My sweet friend, I’m so sorry! I see that this is extremely painful, I hate that you’re going through pain and I wish it were a different way.”
But I see four things are true here: The Lord is in control. He has my friend in His arms. He uses suffering to forge immaculate character. And she is already trusting Him in a radical way.
Certainly it’s comforting if she knows that when she hurts, I hurt. But I don’t want to empathize to the point of leading her to lament what God is doing in her life, even (especially) the sharp turns that He takes. So maybe instead of offering her my pity, it’s more helpful to offer her our Jesus, who is far FAR more compassionate than I can be or even understand.
Tough times are often paired with spiritual battles. I don’t want to be a fellow soldier who comforts my friend on a physical and emotional level, yet works against her in the spiritual battle that’s still in the thick of fighting. I want to hear how the battle is going and help point her to Jesus who is our physical, emotional and spiritual Savior.
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