Sometimes, it’s all I can do just to show up.
My days are often packed to the brim, even if half of it is just the lists and expectations inside my head to do it all.
I glance around the table, and there is that awkward half-second where I’m not sure where to sit, or where I’d feel the most welcome. I’m not sure why, because I’ve known these girls for what seems like a long time, and shouldn’t we all be able to let down our hair and feel comfy without an introduction?
But, it’s been a while. Too long.
Our fingers wrap around steaming mugs, and we trade stories. The air is light, but really – I want to go deep. I don’t always know how to get there, but my soul craves it. Not just a rundown of the latest sale or the best recipe. No, I’m empty, tired, and worn thin. I’ve been pouring out much longer than my meager supply gives, and I’m bone dry. My heart feels the drought, and I pray for rain.
I’ve both looked forward to and dreaded this all day because I know how much I need it, it makes me cry to feel the loneliness in a crowd. And yet I dread it because it scares me to death. I don’t want to disappoint, and I don’t to leave disappointed. I want to reach out to others, and I need a hand to grasp mine, too – but somehow reaching that short distance across the table becomes miles long and my heart doesn’t have the strength. It’s just easier to sit back, and be comfy in my shell. To smile, nod, laugh at all the right times, and say, “I’m good, how about you?”
The coffee shop ambience envelopes us. We talk about church, and showing God’s love to the needy. Ideas for outreach and missionary trips. Good stuff, really and truly, because those things are important.
There is a lull in the conversation, and the echo of hearts beating dry and thirsty becomes loud. We all know it. We’ve seen it in each other’s eyes, but our insecurities hold us back from joining hands. Somehow in our Christian walk we’ve been fooled into thinking that showing weakness or emotion equates lack of faith and immaturity.
She swallows hard, takes a deep breath, and speaks soft and brave,
“You know, I love all of you, and I know you love me, but do we really know each other? Do we know what’s going on? Do we know how we hurt? We’re sitting here talking about how to love one another and help those in need. Well, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m just as needy as anyone we might hope to reach out to.”
Thud. The walls begin to fall fast.
Tension releases, shoulders sag instead of feigning strength, and breath catches.
Another girl shares, open and raw. Hearts soften and hands reach across the table. Eyes become wet and burdens are spread from weary shoulders, lightening the load for all.
“Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.” – Galatians 6:2
I’m convicted and I see my pride that has stood in the way of connecting. I so wanted to have it together, but in doing so I’d nearly fallen apart. I need them, His agents of grace and love like rain. He weaves our hearts together through the baring of souls, and it’s breathtaking. My eyes blur with tears, too, and He is there in our midst, pouring His love into us by His Spirit working through one another. It’s beautiful, and I drink it in. Right there, in midst of overhead music, the distant whir of the espresso machine and soft chatter…the burdens lift, the rain pours down, and we are filled.
I love that my friend was brave enough to step out, humble herself, and break through the walls of pride that keep us silent. I’m sure it blessed her to share, but it blessed the rest of us more to share in her struggle.
Because, after all, how are we to bear one another’s burdens – to pour out and receive His love into dried hearts – if all we talk about is the weather?
I don’t want to just talk about the rain.
I want to dance in it, splash in it, drink it in, and be filled.
Are you lonely or dry and feeling the need for His rain? Your soul is welcome here…how can we pray for you?