By Brenda Black
Giant trees uprooted. Branches strewn
across a freshly cut lawn. Leaves and twigs litter a stretch along
either side of the highway about a half mile long. No news will cover
this small swath of a summer storm's havoc. No volunteer help will
come from two states away to saw through fallen timbers or rake
scattered leaves. Only a few homes are affected. No big deal.
I don't know the folks who hunkered
down inside their old farm houses and heard the howling winds rip
over their homes. I have no idea how many years ago they planted
those lovely trees, full of bloom and beauty. So, whether the damage
came by tornado or straight line winds is irrelevant. If it only
ravaged their few acres and missed a nearby city far more populated
doesn't matter. The gaping holes in the ground once filled by sturdy
roots still leave scars. The fear brings real tears, regardless of
the scope of the storm.
Usually only news of big, bad stuff
that impacts multitudes is brought to the forefront. In the meantime,
every human endures their own small storms; winces from their own
scars. Every one of us is broken or uprooted in some way. And each
time, it is a big deal – to the broken one and to the One who heals
brokenness.
I passed those storm-hit homesteads
early one morning. By evening, when I drove by, headed the opposite
direction, I noticed a contrast between neighboring properties.
Obvious clean up at one and nothing at the next. A big fallen tree in
one yard transformed in a matter of hours into stacks of firewood
with the help of friends and family. Scattered limbs became brush
piles through the work of many. Next door, the yard remained covered
in shattered remains. No activity. No help. No change.
Inevitably, storms will slam into our
lives. The mess they leave will demand our attention. We can go it
alone and take longer than necessary to clean up the clutter. We can
call for help and hasten the healing. Or we can ignore it and let it
lay in our lives and wilt and wither or slowly rot and kill the green
grass underneath.
Honestly, there is no excuse in the
body of Christ to ever endure the hard things alone. Often, the best
help comes from someone who's been through a similar storm and knows
exactly what you need to pick up the pieces. Jesus calls us to be
His hands and feet, His heart and His helper. He also calls us to
reach out and receive. It's a two-way street.
“Finally, all of you, live in
harmony with one another; be sympathetic, love as brothers, be
compassionate and humble.” (1 Peter 3:8)
That's heavenly advice. And it comes
in pretty handy when neighbors are in crisis. Harmony makes the work
easier. Sympathy soothes an aching heart. Love just makes the world a
better place and certainly covers over a multitude of sins (1 Pet.
4:8). Compassion goes a long way in a broken life because we just
need to know that someone cares and understands. Somehow that makes
it possible to press on and shapes the family of God into the
Father's image.
The final act is humility. Living in a
world with hurt may call on us to sweat a little and haul some wood
or we may need to sit and listen and pray unselfishly. You can't care
about the trial in someone else's life if you are consumed with your
own real or imagined tragedies. Sometimes, the best medicine for
brokenness is to help somebody else mend. You just might find your
small gesture is a very big deal in the middle of someone's storm.
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