After years of hiding from her problems, Kim finally pressed send on an email to her pastoral team.
Early traumas, committed by those she looked up to, long buried and suppressed, were now reappearing, leading to panic, depressed feelings and tormenting thoughts. She had to share this with someone. But who could she talk to? Who would listen? Who would understand? Would she just be blamed? Who could she trust? Reaching out for help felt like a huge risk.
‘Can I trust you?’ is perhaps the question on the mind of anyone seeking help from another. Like Kim, we hesitate to share the most delicate areas of our lives. We are exposing ourselves to scrutiny, to questions, to assessment, to judgment. We are bringing the heaviest burdens, and the most private struggles, into the light of day. Will I be safe?
Safety is inherent in the idea of care. To share my vulnerability feels like a threat, so ‘care’ – from friendship to pastoral care to counselling – must mean safety. It’s no accident that one of the most common words translated ‘trust’ in the Bible carries the idea of taking refuge. We find it often in the Psalms, where it is joined with the plethora of ‘God as a refuge’ imagery: rock, fortress, high tower, shield. In trouble, ‘Christ will be my Hideaway’.
But how does that translate into our care of one another?
We might begin by considering that we can – even unintentionally – do harm in our relationships, especially while offering care.
It’s about how we speak
Truth in love. Scripture-shaped words, with loving intention, in a spirit that says I am for you and want the very best for you. Exactly what Kim is crying out for as she taps the ‘send’ icon. Let your speech be with grace, says Paul to the Colossians. May there be an aroma in the way you speak that says I will love you with a ‘never-giving-up-no-matter-what-you-have-done-or-what-has-happened-to-you’ kind of love.
Words like knives
But our words can also do direct harm. James speaks of the tongue as an engulfing, burning fire, a wild animal ready to devour, a syringe full of poison ready to be plunged into the unsuspecting arm of another. Danger! Psalm 55 speaks of words that are ‘softer than oil, yet they are drawn swords’. Kim will be hyper-alert to the first appearance of fires, beasts and knives.
Relational advantage
As we want to offer care to others, we must acknowledge a certain power differential in the relationship. Our aim is always to walk side by side with a humility that says ‘we’ rather than ‘you and me’. But Kim will always feel more vulnerable than the one she seeks help from. The help-giver will always have a temptation to underestimate the power of their words: well-intentioned counsel offered too strongly, or ‘encouragement’ that leaves a sufferer feeling more like a sinner. A safe helper must be a humble helper. What does this look like?
Paul’s familial model of care
Humility defined how Paul was with the young Thessalonian church. Paul would care for Kim with sincere motives (1 Thess. 2:3-4) as if before the very eyes of God Himself (vv.4-5). That meant that Paul would be gentle with her, like a nursing mother taking care of her own children – with delight, with delicate concern, attention focused on their every need, ensuring an environment of safety and nurture. No lies, no daggers, no harsh speech, every intention for the blessing of this little one. And when it came to the need for encouragement, comfort and even more direct and serious words, Paul would speak ‘like a father with his children’. Safe.
Refuge is one of God’s communicable attributes. Paul’s pastoral example is a call to examine how we care in our churches: churches that are full of Kims with struggles ripe for the riches of Christ’s redeeming grace. But can they trust us?
