Broken Hearts and Bruised Souls
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There are, in every congregation brothers and sisters who live with broken hearts and bruised souls. They sit quietly, usually alone in the back, pray haltingly and have a look of deep yearning on their faces.
They long to have a sense of being a part of the body but they sense that their "difference" somehow excludes them. They are alone in the crowd and being in the crowd makes their loneliness even greater. They sit and even with a frozen smile on their faces they weep rivers of tear inside.
I'm writing about the melacholy (depressed), the Bi-polar, those who suffer anxiety disorders and the like. They live in our world and go to our churches and yet they never have a sense of being a part of any of it.
Shame is a big part of their lives. They can't run, do, work or even feel as other do and so they have a sense of being aliens and strangers in a way you can only imagine.
They look OK, they even socialize ok but the cost of doing either or both is great. One hour in church and they are exhausted, they feel rode hard and put up wet. They are drained and so their hearts and souls ache regardless of the joy and hope that is theirs.
Imagine waking up each morning with a sense that your life is not worth living. Imagine waking up each morning terrified of what evil or difficulty might come your way. Imagine feeling like every odd look is an accusation, a confirmation of your difference. Imagine yearning for heaven more to escape your life than to be with the Lord.
These are broken hearts and bruised souls. These are some of the bruised reeds and smoldering wicks Jesus promised to not break or snuff out. But even that assurance does little to aleviate the pain and ache of being so very different and trying to fit in.
"Hi, my name is Fred and I want to die." Think about having that thought several times a day. Think about having to resist introducing yourself that way. Think about having that feeling and not being able to tell anyne about it. No, I don't mean they want to kill themselves, few do; but they live with a tension that tears at their hearts and souls every minute of every day.
No one understands except their counselor and even they are clueless apart from their objective clinical training. Their pastor does not understand. Their famiies do not understand. Worst of all, they do not understand.
Imagine having a wonderful blessing happen to you. You know it's a blessing. You see God's hand in it and yet instead of lifting your heart and soul you find yourself fighting a downward spiral. What would lift another up casts you down.
Imagine yearning for relief you know, short of a miracle, will not come. Imagine happiness making you sad, joy terrifying you and kindness seeming like condecention - pity of the pathetic.
Imagine having to live your life in your head because if you let it our people will flee. Imagine fighting every moment to just hang on and not give up. Imagine just wanting to sit in a darkened room until life fades away.
These bruised reeds need to be able to be who they are and live in the open. They need to be understood and their condition must be appreciated as real and terrible. They dont need pampering but they need to be able to speak their pain to someone(s) other than the folks they have to pay to listen.
They desperately need to have others understand that for them, their condition is as normal as it gets. Yes, they need sound biblical encouragement and admonishment and lots of other good and godly input. But most of all they need to be accepted, embraced.
Being a part of the life of a bruised reed is tough, trying and costly. Which is why so few of us are willing to be a part of their lives. They can be demanding and depressing, frustrating if not infuriating but that's more a factor of our limitations than their condition. It is more a part of our wanting to be comfortable and at our ease instead of involved in a messy ministry.
No, we are not all called to minister to these beautiful bruised reeds but we are all commanded to love them and they take a different kind of love. None of us are exempt from loving them up close and personal.
Fear keeps us at a distance and fear causes them to withdraw. Perfect love casts out fear - right or maybe?
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