“Suffering
exposes us to the mystery of God—not an explanation from Him.” ~ I
Cor. 2:16
For Joshua, the fire drill offered
a welcomed break from his daily high school routine. The surprise of the shrill, unexpected noise made
classmates gasp, jump out of their seats, and giggle. They all shuffled down the hall and out the
exit doors to an assigned location on the tennis courts.
When most people think of Joshua, they think of his fiery
side. The Northwestern-bound defensive
lineman earned his stripes as one of the school’s greatest football players of
all time. His 6-foot-4, 240-plus-pound
frame put the fear of God in opponent quarterbacks.
But behind his face mask of defiance and strength, he had a
softer side: caring and sweet with an engaging sense of humor. The fact that Josh wasn’t affected by his
talent or his good looks added to his popularity.
For most students, the high-pitched intermittent blast of
the fire alarm is simply a minor, temporary irritant. Josh relished the freedom of being outside
and breathing the crisp, fresh air while waiting for the "all clear"
bell to sound.
But, fire drills can be extremely challenging for some
students; the loud noise, the sudden transition, the crowded hallways often cause
fear and anxiety. Such was the case for Laurie,
a classmate with Down’s syndrome. For her,
this routine safety procedure became a complicated, painful ordeal.
Spotting Josh, she moved toward him deliberately. They’d become friends in Art class last semester. She always walks slowly, probably because of
her physical limitations, but mostly because she could. Laurie had an uncanny ability to be
completely present, in whatever situation, with no thought to "what
next?"
She stopped directly in front of him, catching Josh slightly
off-guard. Sandy brown hair and cherub
cheeks failed to hide the fear that colored her chocolate brown eyes.
He edged his hand toward hers ever so slightly, until he
felt his fingertips brush her hand. She
unfurled her fingers and let his slip around hers until she felt the warmth of
his palm press against her own.
Laurie shifted her stance uncomfortable. But the more he squeezed her soft hand, the
more she felt the tension melt away. Laurie
smiled. Josh breathed out a soft prayer
meant only for her ears and God above. (below)
He held her hand all the way back to her classroom.
Everyone in the body of Christ qualifies to be an expert assistant
to the suffering. You don’t have to be
brilliant, persuasive, articulate, or experienced. You can be involved in what’s called,
"The Ministry of Presence."
Through the ministry of presence, you can bring comfort to
the hurting - without ever being ordained or certified. You don’t have to be anything but available to
be a wonderful tool in the hand of God.
Heavenly
Father, I don’t the trials that Laurie has been through, but whatever anxiety
is still in her heart and mind, please grant her peace and acceptance. Help her find comfort in You through me. Amen