Hopefully Helpless

Helpless.

The feeling you get when you cannot make something better or easier; or you just don’t know what to do or say to change the situation… mostly because you can’t.

Like when your friend tells you that his mother has Alzheimer’s disease.

Helpless.

You want to help, but you don’t know what to say. You want to ask questions… lots of questions, but you’re not sure at what stage of dealing with it he’s at. You can’t risk it. You’re not sure where the line is. And this would be a really horrible time to cross it. This would be the worst time possible to stretch boundaries.

So you ask gentle un-intrusive questions. How is she? Is she on meds? You don’t push. You let him tell you what he wants to tell you, while all through you have more questions to ask. But this is not about you, so you let it be. And you remain.

Helpless.

He says he’s grateful that she has had quite a number of good days. You hear the unspoken words. And you want to cry.

You pick up your phone, call your mum and tell her that you love her. Then you talk about nothing for 20 minutes, all the time treasuring the sound of her voice and knowing there is absolutely no reason why you get to have an Alzheimer’s-free mum and he doesn’t. Then you rush to the bathroom and have a good cry.

You want to help, but again, don’t know how. You tell him that you’re sorry in your most sympathetic voice. But maybe sympathy is not what he wants.

Plus sorry is so inadequate. Sorry will not make his mother better. Sorry will do nothing to change the situation. It sounds like an apology. Why are you apologising? You don’t know. You say sorry again. Then realise this is not going well.

You change the subject…fast. Then feel guilty. Maybe you should have given him more time and space to talk. Maybe he needs someone to listen, or maybe you need to find the perfect words to tell him. So you turn to Dr. Google. “What to say to your friend whose mum has Alzheimer’s”. Google is full of ideas. Most of them require a different sort of friendship dynamic to the one you have with him and some are downright unrealistic… at least in black Africa!

Helpless.

Then the small still voice – He is your refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Not google. Jesus. He calls you to approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that you may receive mercy and find grace to help you in time of need.

Hope.

Ever-present help. There, every time, all the time. In hard conversations and unspoken words. In seemingly impossible situations.

Hope.

You turn away from google, to your refuge and strength. To your help. You lay it all before him knowing there is nobody else in the entire world who can change a helpless situation into a hopeful one. You pour out your inadequacies to help. Your failure to say the right thing or anything at all.

Then He reminds you.

He has searched your friend’s mum and He knows her. He knows when she sits and when she rises. He perceives her thoughts from afar. He discerns her going out and her lying down. He is familiar with all her ways and before a word is on her tongue He knows it completely. He hems her in behind and before and lays His hand upon her. He reminds you how precious and vast His thoughts of her are and that were one to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand. (Psalm 135: 1 – 5, 17 – 18)

Hope.

And you smile. You smile because you know it’ll be okay. You don’t know how or when, but you know it will be okay. That Jesus will keep loving your friend’s mum and your friend. That he will keep knowing her in ways that no one ever could or will. And that He will keep being her refuge and strength; her ever-present help. In the good days and the bad.

S, I don’t know what to say or what to do to help you, besides being here for you in any way you need me. But I can help you in the best way I know how – on my knees. Praying for tons of better days leading to complete healing for your mum. Praying that Jesus will remind you that He’s there, even on the bad days. May you never lose sight of that and may He never let you, because in Him, is all the hope you’ll ever need.

Merry Christmas, Muthoni Kanga

My dear Muthoni, it has been over 18 months since you and your colleagues were kidnapped in Somalia. 18 very very long months for your family and your friends here in Kenya and elsewhere. Months of hoping that with each day will come good news of your release and of your return to us. But with each day, another disappointment. With each day, another piece of our hearts breaks. With each passing day, more tears are shed.

We miss you.

We feel incomplete without you.

We wonder how you are. Are they treating you well? Feeding you? Giving you somewhere decent to sleep? Giving you privacy when you need it? Allowing you some basic things like letting you move around? Letting you talk to someone even for a bit?

We ask ourselves a lot of questions with no answers. At times we feel discouraged. We feel like giving up hope. But how can we when you taught us that the only alternative to faith is faith? When you taught us in so many ways to always hold on to Jesus? You were a walking Bible to us Muthoni. We remember your faith and are encouraged. We remember how much your heart was moved for the Somali people. We remember how much you made us pray for Somalia and its people. We didn’t really get it but we prayed anyway.

We remember the God you worship, the God we worship, and are encouraged.

We know that this is just but a passing cloud, and the sun will shine. We may not know how long this cloud will stay above your head but we know it will not be forever. We know that it will pass. You will get through this, because Jesus will get you through it. We know that these, what we see as chaos, are nothing but pieces in His grand masterpiece for your life. And one day you will see the whole picture. One day you will look back on this and see it for what it is – simply part of the plan. He is already in your future because He is your future. He is your hope. He is your plan. He’s got you, and there’s nowhere else you’d rather be… than with him.

And so I pray that this Christmas is no different from all the others, in all the ways that matter. I pray that this Christmas Jesus reminds you that He chose to become man for you. That He chose to leave his seat of glory for you. He chose to be born of a woman, to need human sustenance, to have to walk from place to place (I’ll never get that one! I’d have just been disappearing and appearing in a different place 🙂 ), to need sleep, to have to wake up in the middle of the night to go to the loo… when he could just command the loo to come to Him! He chose to become human when He didn’t have to. He chose to do this because He loves you. And He still loves you.

I pray that this Christmas, Jesus reminds you of His love for you. That love that is not dependent on you being in captivity or not…because in Him, you’re free anyway. And not even they can take that away from you.

I pray that this Christmas, Jesus does something sweet and different specifically for you that reminds you that He is still Lord… even through this.

I pray that this Christmas, Jesus holds you so close to himself and surrounds you with his presence.

I pray that despite everything, Jesus IS your merry Christmas. Because He is all that matters. Hold on to him, my dear, hold on to him and we will keep standing in the gap for you. Until He brings you back to us.

Merry Christmas, my friend.