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Grief, Pain, Walking the Path of Encouragement, Words of Endurance

Honor the Pain

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April 16, 2011

- Category : Grief, Pain, Walking the Path of Encouragement, Words of Endurance

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by Kim Jones



It is no accident that the book of Job – a story of suffering – was one of the first books of the Bible to be written. In one awful day, Job lost his livestock, his servants, his children, and not long afterward, he lost his health. When his friends came to see him, they honored his overwhelming pain by sitting on the ground with him and weeping “for seven days and seven nights with no one speaking a word to him, for they saw that his pain was very great” (Job 2:13).



Although Job’s friends later said things that added greatly to his pain, they at least started out on the right track. Like Job’s friends, many of us desire to help our suffering friends, but we don’t know what to do with their pain. It makes us feel uncomfortable. It is something we instinctively want to avoid. It reminds us that we are not in control, that we are human. Yet there is no shortcut or escape from pain, and, like an infectious boil, pain can only increase when it is left alone.



We honor a friend’s pain first by accepting that it is real, not imaginary. By confirming the reality of our friend’s pain, we give our friend permission to deal with it. We can then continue to honor our friend’s pain by being there, by listening, by crying, and by facing it side by side with our friend. Our willingness to be present in the midst of pain is an encouraging relief, no matter how horrible the pain may be. When my friend learned of her terminal diagnosis, for instance, we cried for hours. There were no fitting words to be spoken, only pain to be felt and expressed.



On many occasions, I watched as my friend tried to share her pain with others. Most of the time, the listener would change the subject or attempt to offer a philosophical explanation for her situation. Whenever this happened, my friend would retreat, forced to face her feelings without the support of that person. The would-be listener lost out on the incredible privilege of helping to bear her burden.



My friend’s experience is not unique. A woman who lost her husband to cancer explains the situation well: “I’m careful about who I share my feelings with. Everyone wants to ‘fix’ me and make my problems go away, but they can’t ‘fix’ this. I just need them to listen, to honor my pain.” So if you have a friend who is enduring the pain of cancer or a friend who is a loved one of a cancer patient, sit with that friend for a while. Listen, honor the pain, and help your friend carry it. Don’t be concerned about what to say; your silence will speak volumes.



A friend is one who joyfully sings with you when you are on the mountain top, and silently walks beside you through the valley.
William A. Ward



Key to Walking the Path of Encouragement


Words that Honor Pain



  • I love you.

  • I cannot begin to understand the pain you are feeling, but I’m here to be with you.

  • I know I can’t make your pain go away, but I want to help.

  • Would you like to talk?

  • Can I give you a hug?

  • Tell me how you really feel. I want to know.

  • Do you want to be alone, or would you like a friend nearby?

  • I can see that you are hurting, do you want someone to cry with?



Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.
Romans 12:15

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Depression, Grief, Pain, When Cancer Comes Home, Words of Endurance

The Forgotten Spouse

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April 2, 2011

- Category : Depression, Grief, Pain, When Cancer Comes Home, Words of Endurance

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The Bible describes a married couple as becoming “one flesh” (see Genesis 2:24). And the union that marriage brings is felt keenly when one has to battle cancer. Although only one of the members of that union may be diagnosed with the dis-ease, both are profoundly affected by it. In fact, many cancer patients say that the cancer battle is actually more difficult for their well spouse. One patient said, “My wife has suffered more than I have. She is the one who has had to deal with the issues of life and the ramifications of my illness. I have been too busy fighting the disease to deal with anything else.”



Yet while the cancer battle rages, the needs of the well spouse are often overlooked. And those needs are great. When one spouse is diagnosed with cancer, the scales of responsibility tip heavily in the well spouse’s direction. The well spouse runs from home front to battlefront offering updates, providing moral support, and stocking both fronts with necessary supplies.



Comfortable and secure daily routines are upended for everyone in the family, particularly the well spouse. The wife who stayed home to care for her family may find herself struggling to adjust to her new role as sole provider. She may feel guilty over her inability to “be there” for her children. The husband whose wife has handled most of the household and family responsibilities suddenly finds his orderly and efficient home in chaos. He struggles to balance career, household duties, and family activities.



Even more unsettling are the sudden, dramatic changes that occur in the couple’s relationship. The primary caregiver in the family may become the care receiver. The breadwinner may be unable to work and may watch helplessly as the well spouse increases the workload in order to make ends meet. In addition to role changes, the well spouse must carry the additional load of routine tasks that the sick spouse can no longer manage. The relational stresses that these adjustments bring are significant—even when circumstances are ideal. Imagine going through them under cancer’s looming shadow!



So it’s not uncommon for a well spouse to feel utterly overwhelmed and totally alone. If you find yourself in this situation, it’s important to realize that your feelings of inadequacy are not due to weakness or lack of character—the reality is, your life has been turned upside down. Furthermore, much of what you face you face alone. Your spouse is often unable to provide adequate support and most people around you don’t realize the burden you carry.



But you are not alone. Many other husbands and wives walk the same lonely, difficult road. They, too, are weighted down by a similar burden. At the Outreach of Hope, we hear the anguish of your hearts:

We can’t talk about my fears. She has her own. And if we combined our fears, the emotional weight would bury us alive.
We never talk about the little things anymore. There are too many big things clamoring for our time and attention.
We haven’t held each other for so long. Our time is totally consumed with treatment schedules, trips to the pharmacy, insurance paperwork, and trying to juggle our dwindling resources.
I feel so selfish if I share my needs. They can’t begin to compare with her daily struggle of treatment, its side effects, and the emotional and spiritual weight of her cancer battle.



It’s confusing, frightening, and exhausting to be the well spouse. As the main support person for the family, the well spouse often “runs on empty”—meet-ing everyone’s needs but his or her own. They may deny their own pain or the severity of their condition in order to keep from adding more stress to an already stressful situation. But just as the deposit/withdrawal principle applies to a bank account, it applies to our emotional, physical, and spiritual health. When a well spouse neglects taking time for rest, reflection, or refreshment, the account will eventually be overdrawn, putting the well spouse at risk for illness or depression. While others focus their attention on the battlefront—on the cancer patient—the needs of the well spouse remain unnoticed and unmet. But when the well spouse suffers, everyone in the family suffers.



So those who would be encouragers to a family or couple suffering under cancer’s attack would do well to step back from the battlefront and notice the weary soul behind the action. As one cancer patient said, “People always call and want to know how I am doing. But I want them to ask my wife how she is doing. I want someone to worry and fuss over her. That’s the best thing they can do for me.”

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Grief, Trust, When God is Silent, Words of Endurance

Those Who Have Heard the Silence of God

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February 21, 2011

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For people of faith, the bleak and barren times when we feel overwhelmed by Gods silence are rarely fruitless. Those who have endured suffering and have struggled to hear God’s voice or to feel His presence in the midst of it, usually find an unexpected prize. Listen for a moment to the testimonies of two such sojourners as they proclaim the truth that shines through the silence.



For feelings come and feelings go,
And feelings are deceiving;
My warrant is the Word of God,
Naught else is worth believing.

Through all my heart should feel condemned
For want of some sweet token,
There is One greater than myheart
Whose word cannot be broken.

I’ll trust in God’s unchanging Word
‘Till soul and body sever,
For, Though all things shall pass away,
His Words shall stand forever.
Martin Luther



Let me tell you about myself. When I suffer, I can never see an end to my trials. And when relief comes, I am so suspicious that the suffering is not really over that I hesitate to accept my rest. It seems to me that to accept both “good” and “bad” seasons alike is to be truly fruitful. Accept both comfort and correction from the hand of God.



Of course, this is all very easy for me to say to you, but I want you to know that I cringe at the very thought of the cross coming to work in me. I am not telling you that experiencing the cross will be easy. Outwardly it will be difficult, but inwardly it can be worse – a time of agone and dryness. If I sound a bit pessimistic, it is because I am writing to you in the midst of a spiritual dry spell. I don’t know what tomorrow brings. God will do what seems good to Him. Sometimes what He wants is hard to accept. Listen to God – there is true freedom, peace, and joy in Him.


FENELON
Reprinted from The Seeking Heart, by Fenelon. Used by permission of SeedSowers Publishing.

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Depression, Grief, Loss, Who Am I Now, Words of Endurance

Facing the Pain of Our Losses

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February 6, 2011

- Category : Depression, Grief, Loss, Who Am I Now, Words of Endurance

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The only way to heal from the pain of losses suffered is to go through the pain. There’s no way around it. We can stuff it. We can dodge it. But eventually, we will have to face it.
Jan Dravecky



From our earliest days of life, we humans avoid pain. We pull our inquisitive fingers away from the hot stove. We avoid fights with the schoolyard bully. We wear seatbelts, kneepads, and helmets. We don’t run with scissors. We quickly learn that some pain is avoidable, and we conveniently conclude that all pain is (or should be) avoidable.



Unfortunatley, our conclusion is false. When the winds of adversity wreak havoc on our lives, loss and pain will result. What do we do when the pain and loss mounts up? Being the pain-avoiders that we are, we sometimes refuse to deal with it; we try to run away. Some of our favorite strategies are to get busy, get around it, or get numb. Consider for a moment how these strategies play out in the aftermath of suffering.



Get Busy
After her mother’s death, Jan Dravecky quickly shifted into high gear. She arranged the service, cared for the family, and tried to help her father adjust to widowhood. Three weeks after the service, Jan broke down and cried, but her sorrow was short-lived. Her father quickly reminded her that her mother always wanted her to be happy. “I knew he was right,” Jan admits. “Mother always managed to steer me around any sadness, so I stuffed the pain back down. I did what a lot of people do: I go busy.”



Following the amputation of his arm, Dave Dravecky “got busy” too. Instead of focusing on his own loss, he spent five days walking from room to room in the cancer ward encouraging other patients. On the surface he was serving others, but “deep down inside of me there were issues I simply didn’t want to face.” It wasn’t a conscious deception, but Dave now realizes that when he was involved in others people’s lives, it was easier to set aside his own struggles.



Get Around It
Denial is a common coping mechanism by which we behave, think, or feel as if some reality about us simply isn’t true. Denial takes an eraser to our loss so we can avoid its impact on our lives. Denial can serve a positive purpose in the early days of a devastating loss because it enables us to begin facing our loss in bite-size chunks rather than as an overwhelming whole. The problem is, it’s tempting to stay in denial.



Cancer survivor and psychologist Dr. Ari Shreffler knew the truth about denial from a professional perspective, but when the application turned personal, she struggled just like anyone else. Dr. Shreffler was married to a phenomenal, compassionate, Christian psychologist. Unfortunately, the husband of one of his patients became enraged when the doctor encouraged his patient to leave the couple’s drug-addicted lifestyle. Without warning, the deranged man barged into the Shreffler home. He shot and killed Ari’s husband and their two sons. Then he shot Ari seven times and left her for dead. As a mental health professional, Dr. Shreffler knew she needed to face the devastating loss of her family, yet it took eight and a half years to deal with the loss. “Even with all the counseling experience I had and all the degrees on my wall, I buried my pain.”



Get Numb
Dr. Shreffler had help burying her pain. The deadly assault on her family left her without a bladder and without the use of her legs. The unrelenting pain of her wounds required “mega doses of morphine” for the first eight years after the shooting. The medication masked her physical pain, but it also masked her emotional pain.



Masking pain is one way we avoid dealing with our losses. While it may work initially, masking our pain creates more problems in the long run. Many people get trapped in various types of addiction disease because we “self-medicate,” meaning we consume as much of our chosen numbing agent (drugs, alcohol, food, work, etc.) as we need to numb ourselves to the presence of our pain. That is one reason alcoholism and drug dependence are such widespread health problems.



Our instinctive tendency to avoid pain has serious long-term consequences if we choose to continue avoiding it rather than dealing with its source. Psychologist John Townsend, in his book Hiding from Love, cautions that when we run from our pain, “what needs attention or repair in our hearts goes neglected. And what is broken gets more broken over time.” When we ran, when we bury our pain, we begin a downward spiral – from initial pain to woundedness, to retreat, isolation, depression, spiritual apathy, and much greater pain.



Gerald Sittser, who lost his mother, wife, and daughter in a tragic car accident, was so overcome by anguish and emptiness that he wanted to run and keep running. But in his book, A Grace Disguised, he describes how he was compelled to face his losses: “Since I knew that the darkness was inevitable and unavoidable, I decided…to walk into the darkness rather than try to outrun it, to let my experience of loss take me on a journey wherever it would lead, and to allow myself to be transformed by my suffering rather than to think I could somehow avoid it.”



That is a truth recent widow Sally DeRue is discovering day by day. “Some days the loss is totally overwhelming. I have to just go with it. If I feel like crying, I cry. If I feel like going to sleep, I sleep. From my own knowledge and from reading books on griefs and loss, I know that the worst thing a person can do is to deny those feelings. They don’t feel good, but the sooner you acknowledge the pain, the sooner you get over it. When you acknowledge it, the pain doesn’t last as long. When you stuff it, it lasts longer.”



Facing the pain of loss is never easy. If it were easy, we wouldn’t run. The loving support of family, friends, and often pastors and counselors can help us face overwhelming pain. But more important, we need a guide, an escort, who will never leave us alone in the darkness of our loss. That guide is Jesus. Described in Scripture as “a man of sorrows, and familiar with suffering,” He has walked through darkness in human form. He promises to never leave us no matter how deep the darkness, no matter how overwhelming our pain. Gerald Sittser, Like many others who seek Him as they journey into the darkness, discovered that He is true to His promise. “Darkness,” he writes, “had invaded my soul. But then again, so had light.”



When you acknowledge it, the pain doesn’t last as long. When you stuff it, it lasts longer.
Sally Dereu

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Grief, Trust, When God is Silent, Words of Endurance

When God is Silent

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January 7, 2011

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In my alarm I said, “I am cut off from your sight!” Yet you heard my cry for mercy when I called to you for help….Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the Lord.
Psalm 31:22, 24



Dave’s comeback, his return to the pitching mound after having more than half of his arm muscles removed, was a wild ride full of excitement, emotion, and gratitude toward God. Even when Dave broke his arm and tumbled from the mound, we basked in the glow of God’s presence. Despite the setback, we could see God working. We didn’t know what the future held, but we knew God was in it. So we praised God and enjoyed all the warm, fuzzy feelings that go along with it. It was great!



I remember sensing God’s presence and love so strongly during that time that I thought my faith was unshakable. I never could have guessed how wrong I was. Just one year later, almost to the day that we had experienced such a wonderful feeling of God’s presence and wondered how we could ever doubt God, I could not feel God’s presence at all. Dave had endured two more surgeries and two courses of radiation treatment. My father had died. A friend had committed suicide. I was crippled by severe clinical depression and had become a prisoner in my home because of anxiety attacks. My mind felt like a rusty computer. God didn’t make sense to me anymore. It was even difficult to comprehend the Bible when I read it.



I can still remember the day when the burden of God’s silence overwhelmed me. Dave and the kids were gone, and I stood in our living room alone. This really stinks! I thought, Was it just a year ago that I felt You so strongly? And now I don’t see or feel You at all! When I tried to envision God, I could see absolutely nothing. It was as if an impenetrable cloud was suspended between us.



I half prayed, I can’t believe I believed what I once believed! My experience is the opposite of what I felt a year ago. A year ago You were telling me that You were going to do great works in my life, but right now it does not look good, I can’t feel You. I see no evidence of You around me. Both David and I are at the end of ourselves. We have no strength, no energy. There is nothing!



During that crisis of faith, I turned to walk away from God. I had been a Christian for nine years, and this was the first time I had thought of turning away. In order to turn away from God, however, I had to turn toward something else. So I started thinking of what I could do to escape the pain and emptiness I felt inside.



Many people who find themselves in situations similar to mine turn to drugs, alcohol, or a sexual affair to escape the pain. I love David and I really wasn’t interested in an affair. Drugs weren’t even a choice for me. I don’t know why I didn’t turn to alcohol, but I didn’t. I began considering other things I would like to do.



I thought I might buy myself a new wardrobe. No. Better yet, I’d buy myself a new car. No. I would join the country club and take up tennis. Then I realized that everything I wanted to turn to was only a temporary solution. The thrill of a new outfit is over after you wear it one time. The thrill of a new car lasts a little bit longer, but it, too, fades. And the body gets old so it’s impossible to play tennis forever. It didn’t take too long for me to realize that everything I could turn toward had no meaning, no hope, no nothing!



Then I turned back to God and thought, So you’re asking me to walk with You even though I see no evidence of You. You’re asking me to walk with You solely on the basis that I know You are the only hope I have in the world. You’re asking me to walk with You simply because Your Word promises that You alone are my eternal hope.



I had learned enough of the Bible to know that God’s word was the truth. It had proven itself true in my life over and over again. As I considered what I knew to be true, I realized that I actually believed what I had said I believed! I didn’t have the feeling I wanted to have, but I did have the truth! So I turned to God and asked Him to please hold true to His promises.



My desire to seek out truth led me to study the Word of God and learn as much as I could. I gained wisdom through my study of the Scriptures. They became alive to me even though I felt dead. I wish I could say that all of the warm fuzzies came back right away, but they didn’t. They didn’t come for at least another year.



As I immersed myself in the Scriptures, I discovered all kinds of people who endured a wilderness experience before God used them in a mighty way. They had all gone through dark nights of faith when they didn’t feel God, didn’t hear Him, didn’t see Him, and doubted Him. It seemed that people who were used by God were first sent out into the desert. I now believe those experiences take place so that we learn to trust the Word of God rather than our feelings. Feelings change so much, but God’s Word does not change.



I think of the time Jesus taught in the synagogue at Capernaum and presented Himself as coming from the Father in Heaven. It was a difficult teaching for the Jews and His disciples to understand, and it was even more difficult to accept. Some of His followers actually left Him because of it. At that point, Jesus turned to the Twelve and asked them if they were going to leave Him as well. “Simon Peter answered him, ‘Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God'” (John 6:68)!



When we face a crisis of faith when God’s voice seems to fall silent and His presence is nowhere to be found, we are in the same position. We may want to run from God, but we can’t! Why? It is not because we have the feeling of God’s presence, but because we know God’s truth.



I now gain hope by knowing that learning to trust God when we can’t see or hear Him is part of the spiritual journey – that others have gone before me and have proven God faithful. That’s why I have received such great comfort when I have read the psalms of David. David felt the same way I did. He doubted God. He wondered where God was. He was miserable. Yet he was a man after God’s own heart and continually reminded himself of the truth of God’s Word. Read David’s words as recorded in Psalm 73:21-28.



When my heart was grieved and my spirit embittered, I was senseless and ignorant; I was a brute beast before you. Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel, and afterward, you will take me into glory. Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. Those who are far from you will perish; you destroy all who are unfaithful to you. But as for me, it is good to be near God. I have made the Sovereign LORD my refuge.



As I journeyed through the dark valley of God’s silence, I did the same thing David did. I went back to the Word and remembered God’s promises. I remembered the times when I felt filled by His spirit when I felt His presence. I remembered that my faith wasn’t dependent upon my feelings; it was dependent upon the word of God.



The beautiful thing that came out of that time of unbearable silence is that I got to know God in a totally different way. I trusted the Scriptures and learned that God is true to His promises. I went in as a skeptic, as one who felt that God’s promises were true for everyone else but not for me. I came out with a totally different joy that I would have had before. I learned that I could trust God even when I couldn’t see, feel, or hear Him.



The Scriptures tell us that the midst of suffering, our faith will be tested: “In this, you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that your faith – of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire – may be proved genuine and may result in praise, glory, and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed” (1 Peter 1:6-7). It is during those dry, lonely times of silence that what we believe is put to the test and we discover what we really believe. Although it is a painful process, the outcome can be priceless.

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Cancer, Grief, Pain, Walking the Path of Encouragement, Words of Endurance

Walking the Path of Encouragement

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January 7, 2011

- Category : Cancer, Grief, Pain, Walking the Path of Encouragement, Words of Endurance

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Let us not love with words or tongue
but with actions and in truth.
1 JOHN 3:18 (NIV)



We know that comforting those who hurt is difficult and unfamiliar territory. It isn’t easy to step in and help carry the load for a hurting friend. The pitfalls and unexpected turns that line the path of encouragement are unsettling—even frightening. We don’t know what to do or when. We’re afraid of doing or saying the “wrong” thing. We don’t know where to turn for help. This uncertainty causes many would-be encouragers to feel inadequate and to turn back.



Although Jan and I and the Outreach of Hope staff encourage others on a daily basis, we haven’t always known how to do this. There was a time before cancer, before depression, when Jan and I didn’t have a clue. And there are times now when we still don’t know what to do. One time I knew I needed to call a woman whose cancer was terminal, and, even though I have had cancer, I didn’t know what to say to her. My cancer wasn’t terminal and I kept thinking, What do I say to someone who is dying? I was so troubled by my inadequacy that I put off calling her for weeks. When I finally mustered the courage to call her, she had died. In my eyes, I had blown it.



Many others who have tried to share the burdens of those who suffer know how painfully inadequate we are to fully meet their needs. Several years ago our ministry coordinator, Kim Jones, who is experienced in health-care and ministry, was called upon to walk with her friend through a year-long battle with terminal cancer. “My best friend learned how real and loving God could be in the midst of her pain,” Kim explains, “and I learned how inadequate and ill-prepared I was to walk with her through it. School had taught me to use my head, everyday life taught me to use my hands, but nothing had taught my heart how to bear this burden.” Yet God was faithful, and Kim discovered the truth of the saying, “God’s hand will never lead you where His grace cannot keep you.”



Despite our inadequacy, God intends for us to walk with those who suffer and to share His love by bearing one another’s burdens. This is something we each must learn how to do. Our desire is to take those who would be encouragers a little further down the pathway of encouragement. We want to point you in a direction that will help you bear some of the pain that weighs heavily on your friend or loved one. We want to help you discover the actions of love that will encourage and comfort someone who is suffering.



By Dave Dravecky

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