It is hard to empathize.
It is difficult to see things through another person's eyes.
We are pretty attached to our own perceptions and perspectives. If we see things the way they seem to us through our stories, emotions, and experiences, it is extremely challenging to step away and look on as another person.
It can even threaten our neatly wrapped world views, cleverly packaged answers, and safely secured agendas for life. Our experiences define our grasp of the world and offer us a sense of order in a disordered world.
On the other hand, our experiences can be a bridge to understanding those of others.
You can live through the same times and circumstances and come through with entirely different stories.
Not everyone experiences the past the same way.
One person's celebration is another person's misery.
The myopic soul will dismiss that insight or just pass over. Followers of the Way cannot, in good conscience do so.
The Way of Jesus calls us to deeper empathy with the pain of others.
We enter into the darkness, hopelessness, suffering, and darkness of the other so that we can see. In our seeing they can also see. We both have more options as we meet.
Still, we can choose our perspective.
I cannot understand despair until I am touched by my neighbor's.
The verge of despair is the precipice of peace.
"Only the one who has had to face despair is really convinced that that he needs mercy. Those who do not want mercy never seek it. It is better to find God on the threshold of despair than to risk our lives in a complacency that has never felt the need of forgiveness. A life that is without problems may literally be more hopeless than one that always verges on despair." ― Thomas Merton
So it is that we do not traverse through life in a pain-averse dance, skipping over the obstacles to bliss as if each was a bitter enemy. We walk the path, ours alone, ours with others, and those that are not our own but we choose to walk with neighbors and friends.
We look upward to find Jesus looking down upon us and we do not see him. We look below for the everlasting arms of the Father, but they are invisible. We look ahead; we look behind until we look beside at our brother or sister.
At first, we see only them and their hurts.
Then we look deeper; indeed, it is Jesus we see. That is how he walks with us and through us, is how he walks with them.
This is tiring work because it engages every emotion and all of our spiritual energy. Even that energy that is not of ourselves, drains us as it flows through us
I retreated a few years ago. On my return, I wrote in my journal:
I am back from off the grid, but not fully on yet. It looks like the world turned and it was not all good. We were met with multiple texts and voice messages about a break in and news flashes about sending our neighbors "back" to places they do not even remember ever living. Wars. threats, and retaliation did not subside. Floods and hurricanes continued in our absence. Fires raged. We smelled the smoke. Injustice and voids of compassion all raised their voices while we relaxed and refreshed ourselves for the righteous and nonviolent war of words and love.
God let us move out of the battle for a few days and calls us back into the world to bear witness of His grace and truth. I will not crank up the computer tonight, but I know there is work to do tomorrow, proclaiming the singular Word in a cacophony of noises, shining light in a pervasive darkness, loving our friends., neighbors, and enemies. This work never ends.
It is the work of grace, of empathy, of mercy, of hearing stories not our own and telling stories yet unheard. It is the work of building new stories and offering alternative scenarios in a locked in world of cataract vision. We put on the corrective lenses of the Spirit to see that we might show a new vision that embraces the humiliation and battle scars of others.
We can do something and accomplish something and change some things, but the first work must be inside of ourselves where we hurt and share the hurts of others. When they are not alone, they can find courage and when we are not alone, we can not only find it, but impart it. The journey over the rocky roads of life that we share is a feast of fellowship and each evening, we come to a tent of respite until all things culminate in a great a glorious celebration.
Since we all hurt, let us seek to understand each other and walk together toward healing, shalom, and reconciliation.
