Making a Life Better

I hadn't really even heard her when she said, "I have rheumatoid arthritis." I heard the words, asked her a little about it, but had I really thought about what it meant for her? I was giving her a massage, had even spent extra time on her hands, where she said it hurt the most, but it wasn't until almost halfway through the massage that I thought about the fact that she lives with chronic joint pain.

Only yesterday I had told Geoff, "I've been feeling lately like I'm not doing enough for other people."

"What do you mean?" he had said.

"Like I'm not serving other people. I feel like everything I do is just for myself or for us."

"You help people at your job."

"I know, but I get paid for that."

"Right, but you're still helping them."

I was unconvinced. It just didn't seem to matter as much as helping people compensation free. Maybe I want recognition. Maybe I want to feel like I've done something great, made more of a difference.

But then today, as I was massaging the muscles of the lady with rheumatoid arthritis, I remembered afresh that there are people all around me who are in pain. And the reason I don't see or care is because I just see me. Everywhere I look I see me. I have this chronic condition called preoccupation with self. But really, it's not a condition at all; it's a choice. And the reason I didn't really hear, really care when the lady said her joints hurt was because my heart wasn't trained to care like Jesus does. Oh, there are definitely moments of grace when I do, when I at least skim the surface of what it means to love my neighbor as myself, and all glory to God for that. But by and large, if I'm truly honest, I know that fears, insecurities, and selfishness keep me from a deep care and concern for others.

Workplaces can become sacred places when the heart begins to hear from God. And as I listened and kneaded tired muscles I realized that my job can help people in a way that makes God smile when I'm not just working, but seeking to make a life better. When I'm exercising every power of attention, and prayer, and presence, and going the extra mile for the benefit of another. And that's how I help the people around me everywhere, by forgetting myself and my agenda and being all ears and all eyes for ways that I can makes their life better. This is how I love my neighbor as myself. This is how I know I am in the light:

Whoever loves his brother abides in the light, and in him there is no cause for stumbling.
I John 1:10

And what does it mean to love?

By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers.
I John 3:16

And laying down our life sometimes just means listening. We tell people we think they are important by the time we give them--and not just time in quantity, but time in quality, truly being with them, truly hearing, truly caring. True, to lay down a life sometimes means more. It did for Jesus. But didn't Jesus practice love all the way to Calvary's cross? Didn't he listen to his disciples, take time for the woman in the crowd who had been bleeding for years, touch a leper--outcast of society?

Maybe the reason I felt the lack, felt that I wasn't doing enough to help others, was not a quantity issue, but a quality issue. Maybe I wasn't feeling full because I wasn't giving my all, not just at work, but with the people all around and right under my nose. Isn't that the paradox of this life in Christ, of Christ in us, that fullness comes by being emptied, that life is gained by being lost? And if my giving is half-hearted,or if my body is present but my heart is elsewhere, can I expect to know the joy of a resurrected life?

I remember Suzy, a pastor's wife I was acquainted with for a while. Suzy is the type of person that, when she's talking to you, makes you feel like you're the only one in the room. She has this ability to look you in the eyes and ask how you are doing in a way that makes you feel so cared for, so loved. I remember talking with her once in the Barnes and Noble parking lot late into the night, distraught about something I was going through. She listened so patiently, asked questions when appropriate, and shared bits of her own struggles with me. She was the presence of Jesus to me in a powerful way. I want to be like Suzy. I want to be able to care more for the interests of others than I do for my own. But I know Suzy didn't get that way over night. She's spent much time in the presence of the Lord. She's learned this beautiful confidence that enables her to forget herself, not in some escape-into-ministry-to-forget-my-real-problems-way, but in a way that says I know who God is, and I know who I am as His child, and this frees her up to no longer be preoccupied with herself.

And I have a patient Teacher who is teaching me the same thing. And this thinking of others first doesn't come by gritting my teeth and trying hard not to think of self. It doesn't come by telling myself I don't matter. It comes gradually as I saturate myself in truth (something I need to do more of) and it comes as I simply practice, one thought, one choice at a time, to make life better for another. And maybe as I see these sacred lives all around me--at work, in the grocery store, at church, in my family, I'll be able to see them as the ones I am to help, to love. There won't be applause, and there probably won't be a "helper's high," but this is the way of the disciple--to see service right here and right now, to be the utmost that I can be for others wherever I am. And here is the paradox again, that as I seek to better the lives of those around me, my own life becomes better, as if I am living as I was made to live.

How To Be Well When You're Not Well

Geoff stayed home sick for three days this week and is just now getting better, but he's still not 100 percent. I've woken up with a sore throat almost every day this week, but today it seems my body is tired of fighting and is beginning to give in to the demands of sinus pressure and congestion. I called in sick to work and then went into the living room to check on Geoff (he had slept on the couch, not wanting to keep me up with his reading since he didn't think he'd be able to fall asleep very quickly). I hear the beep of the microwave and think he's making tea for himself, see him pour orange juice and think it's for him too, but before I know it, I have three beverages on the table beside me-orange juice, Alka-Seltzer and hot tea. “For me?” I say. “But you're the one who's been sick.”

“I don't want you to get worse, though.” And I thank him.

I feel myself becoming drowsy and decide to go back to sleep. For a solid three hours. I wake up when I hear him come in the room. “I'm going to get supplies,” he says. Things to help me feel better, and hopefully, not get worse. And I let him, because what else can I do? And because I know how I wanted to help him when he needed it. And I think of how beautiful it is when we lay down our lives in small ways, how service and love perpetuate service and love, how we give until we don't remember who was the first to give anymore. And how it doesn't matter because love just gives no matter what.

Yesterday he said, “I've been praying that through being sick the Lord would help me learn to suffer as He suffered. I'm not perfect at it yet, though.” I smile. Geoff, always a bit hard on himself, but how I love that desire in him to be like Jesus. “These things take time,” I say. And they do. But one doesn't learn to suffer like Jesus simply by suffering. Being sick doesn't sanctify us. It's choosing to look to Jesus in the midst of sickness (or fill in the blank with whatever un-ideal circumstances we find ourselves in). To look to His example of patience, forgiveness, humility, and service. To still think of others even when, like Jesus, suffering is the cup we must drink. And to ask for His help, knowing, like Paul, that even the most harrowing challenges can be endured, and not just endured, but endured with contentment because of Him who strengthens us.

Geoff comes home with Echinacea tea, a variety of medicines and a box of Girl Scout cookies. “I wasn't going to get the cookies, but then I thought of you.” They are my favorite kind (samoas, or "caramel de lites").

“How did you know these are my favorite?”

“I didn't. I told the girls you were sick, I didn't know what kind to get, and they asked if you like coconut. I said yes, and they told me to get these. But then, after buying the medicine, I realized I only had ninety cents left. The lady behind the table told me to just take them. But then another lady overheard us and said, “No, let me buy them for him.”

He tells me this story and and it does more to warm me than the mug in my hands. Even writing it now makes me smile. Again I see it, how service and love perpetuate service and love.

I'm beginning to feel joy, even with this pressure in my head, because I see His goodness all around me, His kingdom coming right here. And I feel the weight of these words differently today: Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Nothing in all creation.

Not even sickness. Not even death. Not the worst, most frustrating day. I live because He lives, and He has shown me the way of love, the way of life.

A few ways to be well when you're not well:

-Receive when others want to serve you—you give them an opportunity to be blessed and give pride a death blow at the same time (Jesus taught the disciples to serve by serving them first...foot washing, anyone?)

-Think of others and how you can serve them in small ways, as you have strength (prayer is one of the most powerful ways to serve others and it's a great way to spend the time when you're lying in bed).

-Pray that the Lord will use your sickness (or whatever suffering) to make you more like Jesus. Think on His life and character and look for ways to be more like Him in your daily life.

-Grow in sensitivity and compassion for those you know who live with chronic illness/pain or are going through a difficult time. Doesn't being sick make you thankful for your health? For me, it also brings to mind those (my mom, in particular) who live with pain and sickness on a daily basis. Maybe I could ask the Lord to help me be more sensitive to the suffering of others even when I'm not sick? Maybe I could look for ways to encourage them, to help them know they are remembered and are not alone?

-Meditate on truth like this: So we do not lose heart. Though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. (II Corinthians 4:16-18. ESV.)

and this: It is Well With My Soul (find a version of the song and listen...you're spirits can't help but be lifted!)

What about you? Do you have any ideas on ways to be well in the un-ideal? Any stories of love in action? I would love to hear them!