Reflections of Life: When I was 16 I was chosen to become part of a traveling ministry of retreats called ECHO (Encountering Christ in Others). My very first one was led by a very stern Pastor who didn’t play around, but had a sidekick Pastor who was more laid back and a go with the flow kind of guy. It was a 3 day retreat with 35-40 High School students none of us would meet or know until we got there at the site in Flint. We were told to write out our “20 minute talk” and have it approved by one of the Pastors. I wrote out what I titled “Fishers of Men” and it was approved during a meeting of all the leaders of the ECHO retreat 3 days before. We were asked if we were ready and apparently the more free flowing Pastor noticed that I was bothered by something. He took me aside and I explained to him that one of my best friends had been hit several times by his father the night before and I had no words to offer him. This Pastor explained that we don’t always have the right words to say and that sometimes just being there was enough. Trying to get me focused, he also mentioned about how nervous he was doing his first sermon as he tore up his notes right in front of his congregation, and began to just talk. He was told it was one of the best “sermons” many had heard in years.
At the retreat, still thinking of my friend back home, I got up to take my turn and instead of following my written paper, I spoke about being there for others, being in the position to listen, be a shoulder, or that just showing that someone cares may be all that you can do as I tried my best to tie in the Fishers of Men theme of going after people. I spoke about noticing people who are hurting and mentioned that someone in this room right now, might look like Mr or Ms Popular, but they are really depressed right now or dealing with a hurt that they think they alone are experiencing. I then mentioned my friend back home and what he dealt with.
That night, one of the football players for the local high school, asked if we could talk and he revealed that he had been beaten by his dad the previous week and hated him but didn’t know how to deal with it. We both cried that night, laughed, and stayed friends for a bit. At a reunion later, he admitted he got counseling and his dad and him actually go to counseling together. It wasn’t that I said something magical or that the Pastor had knew this High Schooler before that weekend. Pure coincidence?
Sometimes, just being there, is all someone is asking, but in the spirit of Fishers of Men, sometimes we need to look for people, call them, text them, Facebook them, whatever, just to check on them. Way too many people show signs of life on the outside, but are truly dying on the inside. Sometimes we believe we are the only one going through “this pain” and no one either cares, will listen or understand us. Way too many people are alone and hurting right in front of us or on our contact lists. Life was never meant to be that way.
—- Off my soapbox. . .
