Empathy: Brokenness Sojourning Near Brokenness.

Over the last number of months God has made me aware of a deep wisdom. He's kindly let me see that when people are their most human they've let their brokenness sojourn empathetically with the brokenness of someone else, staying near physically or emotionally to gently and respectfully comfort, encourage, and heal. They've drawn and stayed alongside of someone else's heartache, sin or shame to lend a compassionate ear or hold out a lifting hand. Such people do so until others heal, strengthen, and get back on their feet.

I like this definition of empathy: the ability to see oneself in another’s place and understand the other’s feelings, desires, ideas, and actions. The operative words for me are imagine and understand and other. Experiencing your own painful brokenness enables you to come near another's wretched messiness because you know what it feels to be lost, alone, overwhelmed and ashamed. I used the word sojourn to capture the idea of staying in place, abiding for the time that is needed. Empathy comes near, even if haltingly at first, but it watches and listens at the level of the heart for find the human connection which acts like a bridge to the other heart. There is freedom in empathy because we lower your well-used defensiveness to help bear the burden of another who bleeds and cries like we do sometimes. We see a person rather than as a stranger or, worse, an enemy.

I know for many of us it feels counter-intuitive to see our brokenness can build a bridge to someone else's. Brokenness is failure and shameful, maddeningly so. Am I not supposed to be cleaned up before I should even try to wipe the blood, sweat, and tears off you? I'm positive I'll be no expert for your pain or fear. Plus my brokenness is dirty and ugly. Being broken is not an asset or a tool. It's to be locked away. I have a persona to protect and a dignity to preserve.

When we are at our least humane (marked or motivated by concern with the alleviation of suffering:) we instinctively distance ourselves from human brokenness: ours and theirs. Leave the mess to someone else better qualified or who has the time. Distancing can also be locating ourselves above the human condition, thinking thoughts like: "well, I'd never do that, or "I'm not like him," or, "Sure, I'm not perfect, but at least I don't [fill in the blank]." Pride hates brokenness so it puffs up and papers over reality from a distance. When we indict the brokenness in other people, we lose humane sight and empathy shrivels. Pride is also a deceiver of the first order, an enemy of the heart, really. Accepted brokenness confounds and deflates pride. That's good.

I think empathy is most humane when it sojourns near brokenness of another because it knows the loneliness of unyielding brokenness which fills a person with shame and fear. Someone who's come to grips with his or her existential brokenness learns to defuse the corrosive heart cancer of shame because brokenness is the human condition. No one escapes it. And such a person sees parasitic fear for what it is, a sleight-of-hand charlatan that requires a willing participant; one who'll agree with only one way of looking at a threat or a problem, and accepting immediately it's going to turn out bad.

But when I let my brokenness come near that of another without judgment or lame platitudes, I offer them the freedom to drop their guard and accept help. And if I stick around beyond the initial helping something miraculous takes place: the person I help loosens a grip on self-sufficiency, opens to grace, and learns the freedom of being given what they need with no strings attached. Both the giver and the receiver display a kind of nakedness here. No pretense or illusion of self-sufficiency pervades this transaction. I'm coming near you as I am, or you're coming near me as you are; no one is superior. No one has it together; there is just connecting in the place of brokenness and need. This time it's your turn to receive.

The real deal is to stick with it when brokenness is not healed, or relieved in a reasonable amount of time in the other. I've had varying degrees of success with this. The good news is I've been made aware of my limits when it comes to sojourning with someone else's brokenness. There are limits, although I think most of us abandon the helping well before we have nothing left to give. In my work I've had a few folks with whom I could see no way to go any further with them. I had nothing left to give including my frayed brokenness. I was empty and rattled. Sojourning would have left me seriously wounded and in danger of deepening my brokenness too far. So I see a boundary. Each time was painful and they've been a small percentage of all the folks I've sojourned with. I wish the percentage was zero. Not in this world.

If you're reading this I'd like you to do some soul-searching and see where your limits of empathy are. Look to see if you have short limits and why. Ask God to show you.When he does, ask him to help you extend the boundaries so the wisdom and grace you've learned from your brokenness can sojourn with others more deeply when the Spirit picks you to get involved. Also, where do you refuse to let folks see your brokenness so they have little awareness of your need for them to come in close. where do you live in the illusion of self-sufficiency? Where is pride your guide in this illusion? 

A sober understanding of our brokenness is a reality to be explored and gift softening the human heart and creating the possibility of empathy in us. people who learn to let their brokenness sojourn with the brokenness of others discover an uncommon freedom.

ADDENDUM: Lest You Think From My Last Post We Play Fast and Loose With God's Call To Holiness.

Because we put so much emphasis on grace, and the freedom to work out brokenness and sin in the community of the broken and sinful deeply loved by God, some people might think we have a low view of holiness ... an "anything goes and it ain't nobody's business if it does" worldliness.

We don't.

We see being a Jesus-follower as a totality, all of one's life surrendered to him for his use and glory. In the process of learning to let go and trust him to be Lord over our lives: we stumble, get wounded, blow hot and cold, work through fears, losses and confusion; deal with the pain of our own and others sin, labor under life's pressures and stresses of work, family, and finances; struggle to live the spiritual disciplines with some semblance of  maturity, and pursue the missional life from the heart. All of us realize we wrestle with sin. Sometimes it can be serious.

It's just we don't have a "1 whopper-sin and you're out," rule. Christians are well-known by non-believers for "shooting their chronically wounded." Some can be very mean-spirited, but always with a smile. We deeply deplore legalism, and hyper-religious Pharisaism because spiritual pride can rot a church from the inside like cancer, all the while appearing proper. Christians can and do flirt all too easily with "I'd never do that," arrogance. Our gossip can be drenched with a blind self-righteousness more than we'd ever to admit. In some communities of faith, they've lost most of what it means to be a gracious, kind, compassionate and forgiving Church of Jesus Christ. They've become something unrecognizable as such.

You see, I've worked with the Christian wounded and spiritually abused for a long time. I've seen the fear, pain, sorrow, and bewilderment on the faces and in the hearts of folks who got viciously beat up and shunned by brethren who held their heads high while throwing stones. Many of the victims quit the church; some leave Christianity all together. They found themselves on the hurting side of hypocrisy and blindness.

The truth is imagine/Northampton is just  little band of "we're working on it" broken, but loved folks who seek to follow Jesus in his missional Kingdom work all around us. We've worked hard to create that atmosphere. It hasn't been easy, and we don't always get it right, but it's not from want of trying, and then trying again. As a result, people say there is a tangible feeling of love in our life together.

Man, I hope that never leaves.

Running Into Raymond.

I've seen him before on the streets of Northampton, mostly in the evening. When I do, he's generally "half-cocked" as he calls his drunkenness. He's short in stature, extroverted and a bit ornery. His name is Raymond. He says he's a roofer who's been in these parts since the "70's. He says he's a Vietnam vet as well. Raymond usually has much to say.

Tuesday night, Jim LaMontagne and I were returning from the Neilson Library on the Smith College campus where we'd just listened to a lecture on Jonathan Edwards by a historian named Ronald Story. He'd written a book called Jonathan Edwards and the Gospel of Love, and we wanted to hear what he had to say given the reality of the impact Edwards had on the American Christian ethos in the mid-18th century. It was no small thing that he was a pastor in Northampton for a number of years as well.

We'd just returned and were chatting in front of the doorway into our building when Raymond came across the street and headed right for us. He started talking in our direction before we realized he had us in his sights. For the next 20 minutes or so, he regaled us with everything from a false bomb scare happening a few minutes ago up the street, to Revolutionary and Civil War history, to asparagus and grass fields on Rte.9 back in the day. We functioned as an audience for him. He peppered his discourse liberally with f-bombs (sometimes like a cascade), and other assorted expletives. Occasionally, he'd ask about us, but our answers just served as launching pads for his next observation.

Raymond is an alcoholic and more than likely has been one for decades. I never see him when he's not lit up.
He has the gift of gab when he's that way, but I wonder what he's like when he's sober. Is he quiet, shy, easy-going, or detached? I have no way of knowing so far.

That's the problem with alcoholics or drug addicts actively using; you can never peer into who they really are. Getting drugs, using drugs and coming down from using drugs take center stage in their lives. They are high or trying to get high. Trying to have an actual conversation with them or get to know them beyond the surface has proven very tough so far. It's frustrating, because it's not of any substance in the sense the person you're interacting with is distorted by the madness of the addiction. You might get glimmers into them, but nothing to hold onto.

The drug effects are always the "third person" in the conversation. Who knows what's real?

I feel sad in a way because I know there is a someone looking back at or talking to me, but I can't get to know him or her. I want to find out who the real person is and hear his story. I want to offer Christ and the love he holds out to them. I want to say, "Let's figure out how you can work to overcome the past, get back on your feet, and show the world what you might be made of." If I can't get there, they remain a kind of burlesquish caricature to me -- by that I mean a distorted parody of who they might be underneath. What a travesty because this same person bears the image of God. I don't like such diminishing of any human being.

Remember, I'm referring to people who've been this way for years. They've lived on the streets, moved in and out of prison, lost jobs, spouses, families and friends; they've hurt those who've loved them, thus eventually consigning themselves to an aimless, disconnected slavery. Many have been to counseling, been in rehab and attended many AA meetings, even worked the 12-Steps. But, using and trying to stop using has become a Sisyphean struggle of sorts for folks at it for decades: 2 steps forward, 3 steps back, and on and on.

After a while, I've found myself avoiding them, feeling it a waste of time to interact to any degree. I'll give them a buck or two occasionally, but that feels foolish, or acquiescing to the addiction thus cooperating with their demise. At the same time, to ignore them is to ignore our common humanity. I turn a blind eye to their suffering. I join all the others who do so without giving it a thought. That's not OK.

Perhaps, as we heard in the Edward's lecture Tuesday night, I must not cooperate with besmirching their dignity in any way. If they're doing so to themselves, that's they're choice. The reality I have to keep always before me is in serving them, I serve Christ, even if they're irresponsible, belligerent or manipulative. My job as a follower of Jesus is to give to the poor, including the addicted poor-in-spirit. I am to treat them as I would want to be treated if I were them. I am my brother's keeper and must not pick and choose their pedigree in that regard. But for the grace of God I am them.

In reality, I'm not sure the frustration and helplessness I feel will go away easily or like a vapor, but I've made a willing adjustment to engage and give to my street brethren. Giving to Christ can become my joy if I let it.

We'll see how it goes. If you think of it, pray for my freedom and generosity of spirit with these folks. I always appreciate prayer for me. I chronically need grace both amazing and abundant.

When a Friend Steps Up.

"A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother." (Proverbs 18:24)

"A friend loves at all times . . ." (Proverbs 17:17)

"Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." (John 15:13)

"In prosperity our friends know us; in adversity, we know our friends." John Churton Collins

 I have such a friend. I've known him a long time. He's a Jesus-follower of great heart. My friend is a unique man who's had more than his share of suffering and sorrow . . . way more. He stills goes through it and sometimes feels beyond what he can bear, but bear it he does. This friend of mine is also generous of heart, wisdom and wallet. His giving is borne of compassion, and I think, joy. In the midst of his trials, he gives.

He's also a man who loves and serves the least of God's children: the throw-aways and cast-offs who offend our culture's delicate sensibilities. I've not known anyone who lives such a fierce love for the severely broken and disfigured. They are "his kids." He is Jesus to them, even though I suspect, some are utterly unaware. 

I'm writing in profound gratitude because a few days ago this friend stepped up and walked into the middle of our pain bringing relief. He offered it in response to questions about persistent financial struggles and the strain it put on us in the midst of trying to do ministry here in Northampton. He felt compassion and as is his way of living his faith, he responded by lifting a substantial burden from our backs.

When he told me, I was speechless and overwhelmed by what he'd just done. Some stumbling words came from my mouth in response. I'm sure they were inane. He was matter-of-fact when he told me, not wanting accolades or drippy words of appreciation. He's not of that ilk. He wasn't helping to play the hero; he was helping because that's his way in response to his love for God and his friends. He showed genuine concern and acted to do something about it.

Curiously, his phone call (we'd talked earlier and I let him know our need), came at the lowest emotional point of the day for me. I was disoriented and numb, beaten really. I think I'd been so ground down to emptiness in this fight over the last few months, as had Tricia for that matter, that I couldn't leap for joy when my friend told me the good news. I wanted to, but it just wasn't there. Later that evening, I lie on the floor in our worship space. The lights were off and I needed to have a heart-to-heart with my Abba. I poured out all I was feeling, confessing my fear, sadness and sense of abandonment. I needed to be real in crying out to him. I'm not sure it helped anything, but I had to do it. I was grateful and told him so, but I was just spent. I gave him what I had in me to give.

The long and short of it is because of my friend's stepping up, we get to fight another day. While we aren't out of the woods by any means, I still have hope because people like my friend respond when we're in the slough of despond. And I'm repeatedly taken by the reality that in this often bewildering journey, there are other friends who stand with us in support of all kinds (and have since we arrived here. You don't realize how much we appreciate your care and service!), including the marvelous wild-at-hearts on the imagine/Northampton Team. They've all voted with their lives and families, leaving the familiar for this crazy missional adventure we are shouldering together. I'm so proud to be associated with people of their stripe.

Real friends are pearls of inestimable price. They reveal the heart of  their friendship when the bottom drops out and your life becomes tenuous, sometimes frighteningly so. I hope I can be that kind of true friend someday.  In the meantime, I'll continue learning from the friends God has put in my life to show me the way by their beneficent, selfless actions. He taught me huge lesson just 2 days ago through a man who exemplifies true friendship more than he is really aware.












 

Monday Morning Reflections From the Quiet: Micah 3:1-4

"And I said, Hear you heads of Jacob and rulers of the house of Israel! Is it not for you to know justice -  you who hate the good and love the evil, who tear the skin from off my people, and their flesh from off their bones, who eat the flesh of my people and flay their skin from off them, and break their bones in pieces and chop them up like meat in a pot, like flesh in a cauldron. They will cry to the LORD, but he will not answer them; he will hide his face from them at that time, because they have made their deeds evil."

Micah uses the imagery of cannibalistic savagery to graphically highlight the depraved character of leaders who do violence against the oppressed instead of justice. He says brutal oppressors in Israel  perpetrate horrors on the people because they love evil and hate good. As a result of what they have done, when they cry out to God in need, he will turn a deaf ear. The rulers and heads of the house of Israel have betrayed their trust in such a vile way that he will ignore their day of anguish.

Such a stunning picture of corrupted hearts reminds me of the imperative God's leaders have been given to love his people the way he does. They are never to knowingly abuse, neglect, deceive or harm them in any way. To the contrary, they are to do unparalleled good to and for the people  because they are near God's heart. While such is a tall order requiring a manner wisdom and love only taught by the Holy Spirit, it is the invitation to any leader desiring to do God's redemptive, freeing work.

We all recognize what terror and suffering can result from leaders who do evil in the sight of God. What blessing and good come from leaders who love him, and because they love him, they love what he loves. When that happens men and women are freed and enabled to be God's people in the world for his pleasure and glory. They become unlocked, inspired and surrendered to his heart - a Jesus-following leader's deepest passion for people.

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May the  leaders of imagine/Northampton, and all of the leaders who love and serve him in the Pioneer Valley be such men and women of the good.

May the desire to do good characterize all of us in a way that unlocks the Pioneer Valley for the Kingdom.

May our collective ministries be characterized by uncommon love, wisdom, graciousness, kindness and humility; breaking down walls of ingrained cultural distrust and indifference.

Loving is the first order of business

The last 2 weeks I have been prayer-walking through the Main Street area of Northampton walking a circle from Smith College to the Post Office and back to our offices on Armory Street. As I walk, I have been trying to sense God's heart for the people and how he would have me pray for them and for the city as a whole. The walks have been inspiring and deepening. God lets me see into things as I walk.

First, I have been struck by how much Northampton is an "occupied city" spiritually. It is as if the city is enshrouded and fraudulently commandeered by unseen minions of darkness, oppression and death. If you linger and look carefully this sense is palpable. My daughter, Eslie, referred to it by saying, "It is as if there is beauty underneath, but it has been covered and suppressed." I am also unnerved by the realization that most people there live unaware that a tyrannical alien army has infiltrated the city, and stolen its true Heart. A tragedy really.

The second more disturbing awareness I have as I walk is that I do not really love this city or its people. My heart is not consistently broken by their bondage and blindness. Yeah, sometimes I feel it, starting as a sadness for what could be, and then becoming a welling anger at the one who came to kill and destroy. This feeling is almost a flash of holy rage.

What I know would be better for my heart is that it be overtaken by compassion which won't leave and unsettles me to loving service and spending my best time doing good for these people. I want to, but I am still in my head most of the time. I want eyes that see and a heart that takes selfless action almost as an instinct. Their pain and oppression needs to be mine -- their despair and brokenness my passion -- their blindness and fear my call. I need to be about their freedom and life through the One who has it always near His heart and asks me to share it.

So superficial caring will not do. Its insulting and barbaric. I know I need grace and a heart of flesh if I am going to leave anything good behind in this place after my watch. Jesus has to make this real or I will be easily satisfied with my puny idea of helping. Have mercy on me, Lord.