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‘Call me, Bitter.’

That was what Naomi said when she lost her husband and two sons. She said, ‘Don’t call me Naomi. Call me Mara, because the Almighty has made my life very bitter’ (Ruth 1:20). And in her deep grief, she tried to drive away those she loved.

God’s exiled people experienced the same in nature. They came to a spring, but ‘they could not drink its water because it was bitter’ (Exodus 15:23). They backed away from it and rejected it, because bitterness has a way of driving others away.

But God stepped into both situations. God gave Naomi a grandson through the very person she tried to reject. He cured the water for his exiled people, the very water they refused to drink. And God will do the same for us. Let’s not drive others away in our great sadness and bitterness of heart, for it is often through these people that we find God’s hope.

image: pexels-yaroslav-shuraev-8968077.jpg

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Some DON’Ts and DOs when comforting others

  • Don’t yawn or fall asleep, even in a midnight conversation. A griever is fragile.
  • Don’t interrupt them to tell about something good in your life. A griever is vulnerable.
  • Don’t say that others have had it worse. A griever can easily be silenced.
  • Don’t think that comfort is only hugs – it could mean taking them for a walk. A griever needs variety.
  • Don’t promise that everything will turn out alright. A griever deserves honesty.

Some DOs…

  • Do respect their emotional boundaries. Grief can only be carried by the griever.
  • Do remember that as your life goes on, they will grieve in silence. Grief is ever-present.
  • Do keep it confidential, because it is their story to share, not yours. Grief is private.
  • Do promise that you will support them as best you can. Grief is overwhelming.

Yet, there is an even greater Comforter, the one who actually makes us better – God. ‘He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds’ (Psalm 147:3).

(photo by Karolina Grabowska: https://www.pexels.com)

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My hands… my past…

I thought I had left everything behind when I arrived in the UK at age 30 – a young bride. All I brought along was a small suitcase of clothes, a box of books and some wedding presents. I didn’t know what to expect and I didn’t care. I was starting again with Derek.

Now, after 30 years in the UK, 6 years in Portugal, I can say that we don’t ever leave everything behind. Memories still nip at our heels. The genetic code we inherited. Recently, my hands keep reminding me of someone from the past who used their hands for harm. Their hands and mine look identical. I want to hide mine away.

But then I remember, my ‘inherited’ hands come with MY heart. I can choose to use them for good. I can choose to undo harm. And as I do, I redeem my past.

***

Photo by Tiana: https://www.pexels.com

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To begin again…

I was 27 and didn’t know how to cope. I thought my life should revolve around pleasing others, but I was never good enough. I could never be enough. Finally I had a breakdown. Sure, I acknowledged that God was all-loving. I agreed that he had created me unique and beautiful, but I didn’t know how to live it.

All pretending stopped as I lay there shivering on my bed. I could no longer be strong, brave, or even good. It was just me and God, and to my astonishment, he still loved me. And he came to me, just as he has come to millions of others, “to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners” (Isaiah 63:1). I would live again.

Six months later I went back to work, and it took another three years to recover, but, I finally knew who I was – BELOVED.

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Remember….

He says, “I have loved you with an everlasting love,” when we feel alone.

He says, “My word is a lamp to your feet,” when we get confused.

He says, “Do not be afraid,” when life overwhelms.

Because, in every problem, God will ALWAYS fulfill his promise.

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Hope in hopelessness

In January I gave a talk on hope. I struggled in the preparation and went to Derek for help. He asked me one question: “What is the opposite of hope?”

“It’s hopelessness,” I said, and suddenly I identified. I understood. Hopelessness is a deep dejection that nothing will improve, a choking fear that it will always be the same, a desperate feeling of no remedy or cure…

I am still thinking about hope, telling others, and applying it to my life. I trust this ‘Hope Hand’ blesses you as it has blessed me.