Six years ago my world started tilting toward suffering one degree at a time. What previously felt like a fairly charmed existence became marked by some level of struggle every year. And whether the trials affected me directly or indirectly, my outlook on life began to shift. I’m sure this happens to all of us as we age. We see and experience more pain, injustice, and loss, the longer we’re on this Earth. We can still believe that God is good and that because He’s won, the victory is always and ultimately ours. But, we also become acutely aware of the battle we’re in. And how essential it is to have people in our lives who will fight with us and for us.
But how do we come to the aid of others when the needs are great and we are small? How can we be present when we’re physically unable to be?
There in spirit
The Center for Compassion and Altruism Research defines compassion this way:
Compassion comes into the English language by way of the Latin root “passio,” which means to suffer, paired with the Latin prefix “com”, meaning together — to suffer together. The concept of compassion and its link to suffering has deep philosophical and religious roots.
I’ve quoted the definition before but it bears repeating here. Since discovering it and writing on the topic of compassion, the words I keep coming back to are “together,” and “with,” which lead me further still to “Emmanuel: God with us.” Jesus living with us, in our suffering. He gave of himself so we could be with the Father.
Realistically, we’re not always able to physically with each other in times of crisis. Children move away from their parents (at least in our Western culture), start their own families, and live in their own homes. Friends move to new states. And as transient, and let’s face it – busy as we are – our ability to be “in the flesh” is limited. Thankfully we serve a God who, in His own transcendence, allows us a taste. The Father seems to have connected his children with an invisible thread; the spiritual indwelling of the Holy Spirit. And I believe that prayer unites us in a way that’s nothing short of supernatural.
Man your battle stations
I recently experienced a trial that, for lack of more apt terminology, required all hands on deck. I sent a text to nearly every praying person I knew, filling them in on the delicate situation as much as I could. I implored people to be in it with me. I posted to my Instagram stories, asking people to pray. Listen, I didn’t want good vibes or hopeful thoughts. I wanted people to suit up in battle, ball up their fists, and throw punches at the enemy. I wanted God’s army of saints to ask Him to do what only He could do as their general.
And now, I hesitate to tell the rest of the story. Because the story ends with my prayers being answered in the affirmative. God moved how I hoped He would. But I also know that I’ve prayed for trials to be removed from my life or the lives of others, that have yet to be removed. And I know some of you reading this have implored the Lord to change His mind about something, only for Him to remain silent. So, I’m not giving out some sort of formula here. What I’m testifying to, more than anything else, is the profound love and solidarity I felt during a time of intense heartache and injustice.
Finding togetherness in prayer
We’ll never grasp exactly how prayer “works,” at least not on this side of heaven. But I’ve experienced enough spiritual propping up from fellow saints to understand that there’s something just shy of tangible about intercessory prayer. I’ve been deeply comforted by prayers spoken over the phone, well-timed text prayers, and by knowing that a friend committed to praying daily about my situation – or even the situation a family member.
In the Lord’s prayer, Jesus uses the word “us” over and over again. He says:
Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed by thy name. They kingdom come, they will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our debts as we forgive our debtors and lead us not into temptation from deliver us from evil…
Matthew 6:9-13
In the span of just a few sentences, he uses “us” four times. Jesus teaches us to address the Father as “ours” and then shows us how to petition that same Father as “us.” Surely if he’d meant the template to be used in singular form, he could have said, “Pray like this…Give me this day my daily bread…” But he didn’t.
While our initial instinct may be to “suck it up,” or go it alone, I’d argue that our most natural instinct (those hardwired within us from before the fall of creation) tells us what to do when we’re drowning. We’re to reach out for help – as loudly and aggressively as we can because we were meant to live. Reaching out for help in times of intense struggle is a holy, life-preserving event. And for Kingdom dwellers, co-suffering isn’t just a benefit of life lived within community, it’s evangelism at its most organic. This intense, loving connection with people who aren’t blood – but covered by the same blood, is striking to those outside the Church.
Someone to suffer with is what everyone is looking for, and many are finding that comfort outside of God’s community of believers.
As our world becomes more isolated; each of us working from home and socializing via screen, how might we suffer in community and invite others to experience our connection through The Holy Spirit?
Compassion is never a waste of time
I was significantly humbled after reading this post from Osheta Moore. Thank you, Osheta for calling out our grossest of instincts and calling us up to something higher.
This post is really and truly worth reading in its entirety.
I hope you enjoyed this month’s installment of Curious Compassion.
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I can’t wait!
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I enjoyed this read. You’re writing is deep, complex, and clear. Thank you! I live in Birmingham and graduated from Hoover High School. I understand, at least contextually, the situation with Carlee. Thank you for your wisdom in helping is navigate.