Spring 1988

Pat, our Associate Pastor’s wife, heard that I’d been experiencing debilitating fatigue, plus strange neurological symptoms (numbness in limbs and hand tremors). She also knew that during my study leave from Columbia Bible College (now Columbia International University), I was taking a full load of doctoral classes. Pat also knew my tendency to slink into the slough of despondency now and then, even when things were going fine.

Pat didn’t tell my wife, Dolly, to tell me she was praying for me.  She didn’t call and pray with me over the phone.  She arranged a meeting with Dolly and me in our house, where she interceded long and hard for my physical and emotional health.

 

Autumn 1991

Despair held me in a pythonic grip totally out of proportion to my circumstances. Dolly overheard me mutter something about not wanting to live.  Fearing I was suicidal, without my knowledge she called a friend of mine and asked him to intervene.  After supper, Skip dropped by the house and sat beside me in the den.

“I hear you’re having a rough week,” he said.   “I’ll listen if you want to talk it out, and I want to pray for you if that’s okay.  Or if you prefer, you can keep reading the newspaper, watch TV, or grade papers,  as if I weren’t here. But I’m not leaving your side for two hours.”

 

Summer 2003

During our lunch appointment at the college cafeteria, Howard noticed my gloomy facial expression and heard the lethargic, more subdued tone in which I spoke.  He knew that this was one of the worst, longest-lasting depressive episodes ever for me.  After lunch, he walked back to the administration building, while I shuffled in the opposite direction toward my faculty office in the boys’ dorm.

On that mid-summer day, no residents lodged in the dorm.  I stopped in the lobby and curled up in a fetal position on a couch.  I sought sleep as an escape from the hopelessness.  Moments later, the metal door to the lobby entrance creaked.  Howard pulled up a chair.  With tears cascading down his cheeks, he said, “Nothing I say will change how you’re feeling right now.  But I can’t leave you alone, either.  I’m here for you.”  He fought for words as he prayed aloud for me.  A few minutes later, he hugged me, then returned to his office.

 

The Greatest Gift

After my first year of college teaching (1981-82), physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion overwhelmed me. Someone who knew my desperate need for rest gave a large financial gift with the stipulation that Dolly and I find a couple to keep our boys so we could get out of town for a few days.

Numerous times I’ve received letters or emails from former students whose affirmation injected a mega-dose of optimism into a downcast spirit.

I’ve often benefited from phone calls and face-to-face words of encouragement indicating that God was using me in spite of my frailties.

But the greatest, most heart-massaging gift I’ve ever received came from people like Pat, Skip, and Howard:  physical presence. Being with me in a time of need spoke clearly and loudly of their concern, and God’s. The message of their presence eclipsed in importance any comforting words they may have spoken or prayed.

When we plead with God for strength to keep going, He often arrives “with skin on,” incarnating His love for us through members of the body of Christ. A friend is merely God’s way of saying, “I love you.”

If the Son of God, who has existed from all eternity, could condescend to wear flesh with all its pain and limitations (John 1:14; Philippians 2:4-8), then we can show up in the flesh to come alongside people who are hurting.

“But what will I say to the parents who lost a child in an accident?  To the couple whose new baby entered the world with severe brain damage? To the man on the precipice of suicide because he can’t find a job and feels like a failure?  To the person who recently received a terminal cancer diagnosis?  I’m not a professional counselor!  I’m not qualified to help them!  I’ll pray for them, but  I’d feel too uncomfortable going to see them.”

Whoever identifies with the questions and remarks in the preceding paragraph is selfish.  Such  persons don’t go because they’re worried about how others will perceive  them. The focus is on self, not on the needy person.  If the Holy Spirit is nudging you to visit a sufferer, heed His inside whisper no matter how inadequate you feel.  Trust Him to enable you to say and to do the appropriate things.

Don’t fret over what you’ll say.  Articulate your love with your physical presence.  Shout your concern with a warm embrace. If the geographical proximity makes it possible…

Just go.

Be there.

Even if you never open your mouth, your message will soothe the hurting person.

 

When has God used someone’s physical presence to minister to you?  Go and do likewise!

This week, ask God’s Spirit to give you the name of someone who needs the comfort of your physical presence.  Ask Him, “Who do You want to love through me?”