Unsteady Shoulders

There's this verse, and at the moment I can't remember exactly where it is, that talks about bearing one another's burdens.  It is what we are supposed to do, you know, care about one another, listen to each other, etc.  But whenever I have heard that phrase, "Bear one another's burdens" I have always thought about it in a single context: me bearing the weight of the world upon my shoulders threatening to crush me into oblivion at any moment.  Much like the poor pilgrim from John Bunyan's classic, I have always had a tendency to walk around carrying pounds and pounds of weight that I was never meant to bear.  It is a strange predicament, because I love listening to people's struggles.  I love encouraging them and praying for them....but then....then I start trying to fix them.  Because when people tell me about their woes, their pain, their difficulty, my pride has a tendency to raise its head.  "Look at how spiritual I am!  Look how I am helping these people!  Just think how much they will love and appreciate me after my advice solves all the messes in their lives!"

The thing is, I'm really bad at bearing burdens.  And when I start to try, what I'm really doing is trying to be Jesus.  I'm trying to be the Savior.  I'm trying to be comfort and peace and salvation for my friends that I love so dearly.  So I pile their pain upon my own very fragile and unsteady shoulders trying to prove that I have it all together.  You can just imagine how well that goes over.  If I let this go on for too long I become plagued by guilt.  I'm not doing enough!  I'm not loving enough people!  I'm not solving enough problems!  I seek out the pain and problems of those that I care about to try and avoid my own pain and frustrations (cause truth be told I don't handle that very well either).  Failure, exhaustion, and an inability to love becomes inevitable.

Interestingly enough, what that verse about bearing burdens that I mentioned earlier actually says is, "Brothers and Sisters, if someone is caught in a sin, you who live by the Spirit should restore that person gently.  But watch yourselves, or you may be tempted.  Carry each other's burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ" (Its Galatians 6:1-3 by the way. Yes, I just googled it.)  Here's the catch about that whole carrying burdens thing.  I'm supposed to help bear burdens, but I'm ALSO supposed to allow other people into my life to help me bear mine.  I'm not just supposed to give godly advice, I'm supposed to learn how to humbly receive it.  It is true that I'm supposed to love the people in my life, care for them, hold them when they cry, pray for them, listen to them, and ultimately I'm supposed to lead them back to the God who can sustain them in the midst of their pain.  But I'm also supposed to let other people do that for me too.  Kind of scary.  To be totally honest.  All that vulnerability, it takes courage, and more than a little bit of humility.

The reason I'm writing about this right now is because this past semester I have been learning just what exactly this looks like.  I have an incredible community of friends in my life who love me and who love Jesus.  We've all been friends for a while now, but, well, it has just been one of those semesters.  We have all been through a lot of various difficult things.  There's been a lot of pain and a lot of late night talks and a lot of tears and tissues and chocolate.  Now normally, I would have followed my old pattern, which is to absorb everyone else's hurt and share none of my own.  To try and fix everyone and put a good face on it and convince everyone that I have got it all together.  But this semester, with this group of beautiful people, I have (started?) taking off the perfection mask.  I have started to let people in, and it has been harder than I have been willing to admit.  I do not like people seeing my sin and my mess.  I do not like admitting when I am struggling with things.  I hate it when people see me cry.

But in the past weeks and months I have discovered something extraordinary.  These friends of mine have seen me as I really am.  They have heard my rantings and my frustrations.  They have seen my tears, and they have not turned away.  I have received so much love and hugs and truth.  Truth, spoken in love, but spoken none the less.  These are the kinds of people who ask me how I'm doing and when I say "I'm fine,"  they look me straight in the eyes, in that awkward uncomfortable way that only works with friends who already spend way too much time together and go, "No.  You're not.  Tell me all about it."  You know what's crazy?  I DO!  And they listen!  The blessing of it all overwhelms my soul.

Just a year and a half ago I was completely burnt out and exhausted.  I was working so hard to save the world while trying to convince everyone in it that I could do it all by myself.  I had made Jesus marginal, and I did not have true friendships.  I was so busy attempting to be everyone's Savior that I was not really loving anyone at all.  But now?  Now I am learning how to love with an open heart and open hands. I lift the burdens off my friend's shoulders and place them where they belong, squarely on the shoulders of my Lord who can handle what I cannot.  And when I find myself weighed down by the cares of the world, my sisters in Christ come along side me and do the same.  We know we aren't perfect.  We know that life is messy.  But we also know that God is good.  So we remind each other everyday just how good He is and just how much we are loved.  I can think of no greater gift for which to be thankful this Christmas- the unconditional love of true friends.