Diversion

Can we lessen the flow of another’s distress?

This trail in the Shenandoah National Park starts with a steep climb. I find this surprising because I’m already high on the Blue Ridge. But it’s early in the morning, the air is cool, the sky is clear. No complaints. Up I go, stopping frequently to catch my breath.

It’s during one of these stops (my hiking buddy and I, thirty years ago, called them “Wheezing Geezer” breaks, long before we each became one), I noticed the angled objects placed from time to time across the path.

Some are embedded rocks. Some are logs. It’s clear that they are intended to be diverters, to sweep to the side the current from rainfall. On a steep, rocky path like this, storms could quickly turn it into an unwalkable gully.

It’s not hard for me to find a metaphor in this. For as I walk and pray, I keep thinking about a person I’ve been dialoging with recently who is facing a Greek tragedy’s worth of heartache and trouble. It’s almost unbelievable. It must be unbearable.

I can easily picture this onslaught of difficulty as a torrent speeding down a mountain path, making the already challenging upward climb treacherous. David, in Psalm 69, writes almost with this scene in mind:

I have come into deep waters,

and the flood sweeps over me. (1)

Do not let the floodwaters engulf me (15)

What can we do as a bystander? We can build emotional diverters: drawing off some of the flow. But how? Certainly, as James suggests, we can get physically or financially involved, when appropriate (James 2:16). That’s not an option for me in this situation.

But I can listen. And I can pray. Both are powerful ways of pulling away some of the raging waters.

“Bear one another’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” Gal. 6:2

 

Here’s what doesn’t work: laying down a log that doesn’t touch the ground. Without that contact, such “help” just becomes a barrier for the journeyer and does nothing to lessen the flood.

In my reactions to another’s trouble, I feel the temptation to stay at arm’s length. To share platitudes. Or to recount my own difficulties as if to give myself credentials. Or to offer the true but not helpful “It Could Be Worse” remedy. It’s much harder to get down in the dirt with heavy rocks.

The view at the top, when I reach the summit, is spectacular. It’s worth remembering that’s where we’re all headed. And if a suffering friend can’t imagine anything but the current flood, it’s our job to keep it in mind for them.

After all, it’s why we’re on this upward climb in the first place.

Jesus, you diverted all the pain and punishment that we deserved onto yourself. Help us to be engineers of relief for those hurting around us.

Reader: When has someone diverted some of your suffering or sorrow? As always, feel free to share your thoughts with me.