“What we desire most is to do away with suffering by fleeing from it or finding a quick cure for it. As busy, active, relevant ministers, we want to earn our bread by making a real contribution. This means first and foremost doing something to show that our presence makes a difference. And so we ignore our greatest gift, which is our ability to enter into solidarity with those who suffer.” ― Henri Nouwen 

Looking back over my years in Asia, I am considering suffering and what it looked like when people contributed to healing. I also remember what it felt like when people attempted to heal me—according to their own designs—and further damage it caused. 

I didn’t need lists of “ought-to’s” or high-pressure admonishments like, “the world is watching” and “you have a testimony to maintain.” That only made things worse. Because I was weak and human in my suffering and had already heard this worn-out advice. Well-intended Bible verses felt like weapons. These attempts at help were often done with good intentions, hugs, smiles, and declarations of Christian love. However, that did not mean they were healthy or helpful. I closed myself off further, feeling I did not have permission to be human. I started considering the idea that Jesus’ healing was for the world, but apparently not for me. 

I needed to be around people who did not want to cure me or bring me back around to “global worker status quo.” 

Miraculously there were sometimes people willing to simply listen. They came along when I most needed it. How I wish this had been the accepted norm instead of what seemed a “scandalous” exception—that a global worker needed help processing painful emotions and impossible situations—and was actually getting it. 

These wonderful people didn’t try to change me—they trusted the Holy Spirit for that. As fellow humans, they quietly entered into my suffering, listening and helping. Their words were sparing and supportive, their questions thoughtful and nonjudgmental. These people walked the delicate balance of trusting God to change me while faithfully fulfilling the calling of a sibling in Christ— shouldering a burden with me. 

When someone is hurting, I am not meant to force a cure. Rather I can always be learning how to walk alongside, listen, and help as God works the process of change and healing.