Sit in the Mud

I have a soft spot in my heart for those of you out there that are weathering one of life’s storms. I am passionate about making sure you know you are not alone because weathering a storm is tough enough, weathering it alone is just plain horrible. When I reflect upon the storms of my life {and the mud they create} I become filled with gratitude for the sojourners of this faith… dear brothers and sisters that have cared for me as I practiced endurance. Practiced perseverance. Practiced surrender.

I believe there is something sacred about sharing the ground of trial with another. I sometimes need to be reminded how sacred it is to be invited into that space where incredible pain takes place. When a person pulls back the curtain to reveal the mud in their life, the mess that a storm created,  it’s hard to slow down and show respect and care for the sacred ground opportunity. It’s much easier to diagnose the situation and prescribe theology.

There’s nothing wrong with solid theology. In fact, we highly value it. We need it.

But often people in the mud know they’re in the mud. Often they even know the theology about how to overcome the mud.

The truth is…the mud is not the issue at all.

The issue is their broken heart. A heart that is deeply hurting; covered in fear and weeping wounds. A heart too broken to stand {at least for a time}.

They really don’t need someone to stand on solid ground and tell them how to climb out of the mud.

Instead they need someone to get right down in the mud with them. I need this when I am in that place, and  I want my muddy friends to know they can lean on me as well.  I will stay in the mud with them until they’re ready to regain their footing.

I want that front row seat to watch God’s glory in their lives, in spite of the mud, blind me with goodness.

But…if I want to see that glory revealed, I have to be willing to listen and not be uncomfortable with the mess. I have to be willing to do nothing but sit. Wait. Encourage but not prescribe. Whether it is by the hospital bed, across the Starbucks table, or through the phone call…

What if we were people who weren’t afraid of sitting in mud with our friends?

What if we weren’t afraid of chemo side effects or divorce tidal waves?

What if slandered reputations didn’t make us avert our eyes, and financially ruined people didn’t cause us to ignore our phones?

What if we never again murmured  that God wouldn’t give our friends more than they can handle…but instead remind them they never ever have to handle this alone. That Jesus IS there to handle it for them and that we will sit and pray and wait until He does.

What if we chose to just sit with people…not to enable bad habits and spiritual lethargy, but to enable healing. Having been one broken and without strength, I am so thankful for the Jesus-reflectors in my life who sat in the mud with me. Who haven’t been afraid of the mess, of the broken in me. The ones who have been witnesses to my sorrow. In my pain, I needed people to look into my soul, tell me they recognize my wounds and that they have scars on their souls too. They have muddy spots in their story, and they overcame the mud.

Jesus wasn’t afraid of people’s broken places. He sat in the mud with those He loved. Let’s be a Church that’s not afraid of people’s  messes and wrap our arms around them, mud and all.

-Kallie