As we continue on with this month's posts about LOVE, today's blog post is one you do not want to miss!  We're featuring guest blogger Kittie Trail today, and boy does she have some great words of insight for us.  Check out the post below to read the personal journey Kittie has walked in the past year, and what she has to tell us about loving those that are hurting.  

One year ago this month, I experienced a new dimension of hurting and suffering when I was diagnosed with Stage 3 cancer.  After a year of treatments, including radiation, two series of chemotherapy and two surgeries, I have been declared NED (No Evidence of Disease). I am cancer free!! Praise God!  I am rejoicing but also have a new understanding and perspective of those who are hurting and suffering.  I had never had much more than a cold in my life and really didn’t know what it was like to be in pain or to suffer.  The Lord has walked with me every step of the way on this amazing journey that has been blessed beyond measure.  I didn’t say it was “pleasant” or “without frustration” but very “blessed”.

Looking back over the past year I have seen the mighty healing power of our awesome God.  However, not everyone who is hurting or suffering experiences that result.  That doesn’t mean there is a lack of faith or that God can’t heal or bring relief.  He can do whatever He chooses to do.  There is a great deal of false theology floating around that says, “If you just have faith you will be healed or you won’t have to suffer”.  That does not line up with the teaching of Scripture.

In 2 Corinthians 12, Paul talks about being “given a thorn in the flesh”—he was suffering.  He pleaded with the Lord three times to take it away.  But God chose not to remove it.  Instead the Lord said to Paul, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

Did Paul lack faith?  No, Paul said, “I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardship, in persecutions, in difficulties.  For when I am weak, then I am strong.”  Strong’s Greek Lexicon describes weakness as feebleness of health or sickness.   Paul was well acquainted with hurting and suffering yet chose to “delight” in what he was going through.  He experienced God’s grace in the midst of his suffering.

When I was going through treatment, I never thought I would find myself saying, “Thank you God for cancer”, or that I would find any joy on the journey.  But somewhere in the midst of the illness and treatments, there was no other response than gratitude for God’s grace.  One of the reasons is because I was surrounded with people who knew how to love me during some of the most difficult days of my life. 

When we announced my diagnosis to family and friends, it was like the flood gates of blessings began to pour in.  I got texts, email messages, phone calls and literally hundreds of cards from all over the world.  I wanted to keep each card that arrived, so I bought a really large decorative box.  I call it my “Blessing Box” because it is full of over 200 cards of encouragement, Scripture, handmade notes, and hundreds of promises of prayers.  

On Valentine’s Day, my first day of chemo and radiation treatments began.  Special friends decorated our house with posters, cards, candy and more messages.  When I came home from the hospital, it was like walking into a room full of love. 

Four very dear sisters in the Lord who lived on three different continents managed to piece together a quilt for me. I was literally wrapped with their love and prayers.  Another group of friends showed up one day with a new chest freezer full of frozen homemade dinners.  They knew my husband doesn’t cook and that nutrition would be essential to my healing.  Flowers, more meals, friends cleaning my house and doing yard work just kept coming for 11 months.  The body of Christ showed up with a healing balm that was an amazing display of being the hands and feet of Christ Himself.  There was no other appropriate response to cancer but gratitude.

One day I was checking into the hospital for a treatment.  The receptionist always asked, “Is there someone with you?”  My sweet husband never let me go alone to a treatment.  If he couldn’t go with me, he made sure someone else was there.  I was very saddened one day as an older gentlemen came for treatment by his self.  His response to the nurse’s question was, “No, I’m all alone.”  My heart broke to think that he was suffering all alone.  I met another lady who came to treatment on the public bus, all alone.  I was never alone.  The Lord was always there, and He surrounded me with friends and family from all over the world to encourage and pray for me…..people who knew how to love when it hurts. 

Hurting usually involves some sort of loss.  Loss can come in many forms other than death---loss of a job, loss of a home and community due to a move, loss of good health, or loss of a relationship.  Whatever the loss, there is usually hurt or suffering. 

So how do we respond?

• Listen, listen, listen.  Don’t offer advice or solutions, just be there and listen. Quiet presence, especially for the sick is important.  Most of the time, there is nothing you can say to make the pain go away.  Try not to give advice or focus on your own pain. 
• Acts of kindness - Shower people with tangible blessings like meals, offers of house cleaning, taking care of children, rides to doctor’s appointments, etc. Offer specific aid that you know you can deliver.
• Phone calls, written words of encouragement or any gesture that says, “I haven’t forgotten you.”   Life goes on for those who are not in the midst of hurting.  For the hurting, often, one cannot leave their home or be involved in regular activities.  Skype or do Face Time if you can’t be there in person. Loneliness can be intense.
• Pray, pray, pray.  Don’t be afraid to ask your hurting friend, “How can I pray for you?”
• Allowing someone to vent and talk is very therapeutic.  It will help you to know how to be more specific in your prayers.  

Finally, remember to say “I love you” and your heavenly Father loves you even more.  You are not forgotten or ever alone.        
   

 

Kittie Trail has been a missionary with the International Mission Board (IMB) for the past 30 years working mainly in Africa.  She, and her husband, Randy, are on a temporary assignment serving as Assoc Personnel Consultants for IMB and live in Wake Forest, NC.  They have an office on the campus of SEBTS and enjoy walking with students and others in the area who are going the application process to become missionaries.  They have three grown sons who were all raised on the mission field.

Reblogged from (in)courage
May 19, 2012

 

Music off, television off, phone left on silent, I’ve been dabbling with the quiet because I need to hear from God, but the truth about the quiet is that it has opened me up wide, turned on my dulled senses, and faced me toward my rawest, loneliest places. It is a constant struggle for me to not reach for my phone, always at my side. With my mouth I say I want to walk with God, but with my actions I crave a culturally acceptable numbness that keeps me from pain.

Many of us know truth with our words and our songs and in our friendship conversations, but it feels rare to experience it in the seething corners of our hearts or in those hurt, magnified memories we keep close and shoved down. We start to feel the quiet working on us, and so we reach for the phone, scroll through instagram.

I’m finding, even as I pursue the presence of God, that the quieter it gets, the lonelier I get and the more I am left to deal with my own thoughts and what I really believe about God. I’m beginning to see how I’ve discounted that I have the mind of Christ, that I am actually supposed to be able to hear myself think.
I’ve started asking how lonely was Jesus in His flesh. Who knows what it’s like to be God with breakable bones? And then I imagine the desperate, internal communion Jesus kept with His Father, the kind of communion I want with Him, too.

Because of Jesus, I’m starting to embrace the lonely, not hiding from it any more, and rather asking Jesus into it with me. Only then do I find myself truly not alone.

Even in the intimacy metaphor we receive with marriage, even in our most unified moments, we can feel most alone. Even with your most favorite sisters, in huge crowds, and with a boat load of kids, we find ourselves deep in the crevices of loneliness. We find ourselves feeling exposed and unfixed because there is no people fix, no earthly father, no covering that will do other than the covering Jesus gives, the messianic fix.

I believe we blow the horn asking all to gather in community often because we think it will save us – save us from ourselves. Community can point us in the right direction, but it still won’t fix us.

We in our lonely can realize a love that hounds, the presence of invisible God, and only from the solitude found there can we reach out to community and practice the healing of togetherness in Him.

What if we allowed the quiet, faced the lonely, and sat in it a bit? Might that lonely place be exactly where the door is, the one on which we knock, the one Jesus promises to open?

***

inspired by the reading of Reaching Out by Henri Nouwen and written by Amber Haines from theRunaMuck

Amber Haines has 4 sons, a guitar-playing husband, theRunaMuck, and rare friends. She loves the funky, the narrative, and the dirty South. She finds community among the broken and wants to know your story. Amber is curator with her husband Seth Haines of Mother Letters (published April, 2012). They are in the process of learning how to live in true community, to care for the orphan, and to love the broken body of Christ. Read her blog HERE, and tweet her a little HERE.