Faith & daily life
At the heart of our faith is the belief that God meets us where we are in all the places and relationships in
which we live, work, play and relate. We pray, support and encourage one another as we grow deeper in faith
and learn to trust God with our whole lives. Some of us are new on the journey; others have been at it for
a while. All of us can find inspiration and hope in the stories of our fellow travelers. FAITH & DAILY LIFE is
featured with stories of God at work in YOUR life.
The Sacred Work Of Bearing Witness
by Siri Myhrom
Something that always strikes me in the stories of Jesus is the extreme
tenderness he brings to human suffering. He was, of course, the ultimate healer
– restoring life in all its fullness – but in so many of these stories, we are also
given a holy glimpse of the radical presence that precedes the healing. And I
wonder what we might learn from that.
Mike, Siri, Elena and Stella Myhrom
Jesus was an expert
at bearing witness to
people in the fullness
of their mess,
without turning away
or deflecting.
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Jesus was an expert at bearing witness to people in the fullness of their mess,
without turning away or deflecting. He didn’t dwell on their pasts or try to
unearth the “reason” for their ailment (John 9:3). He went to places no one else
would go, and he sat with (Luke 19:5) and spoke with (John 4) and touched
(Mark 1:41) people who were utterly outcast and rejected. He allowed himself to
feel the anguish for the pain of others (John 11:33).
Like everyone else, I’ve walked in shadowed places, geographies of sorrow where
questions hang like a smog. In those times of darkness, you intimately come
to know the rare gift of someone who can be with you fully in your despair and
grief and rage. These are the people who don’t try to fix or explain anything.
They don’t try to tell you how you should feel. They don’t try to create narratives
that will make sense of senseless things in order to make themselves feel more
at ease. No – they just show up. They look you in the eye. They touch your arm.
They maybe bring donuts. They say things like, I hear you. You’re not alone. It’s
okay to be sad. Me, too. Even their language roots them in the now with you.
And doesn’t this make all the difference?
In the stories of Jesus, we see that before the miracle came the moment – the
moment where Jesus was with people in a way that communicated their full
belonging. Before he transformed their bodies, their spirits, their futures, he was
with them exactly as they were. And he loved them. Out of that place of presence
and compassion, he healed them, and his healing was always invitational.
We are called to be with each other this way, and it’s very counter-cultural.
It asks us to make peace with our uncertainties about profound loss, to
acknowledge that we don’t have answers to the most pressing questions of
human suffering. It’s tender and uncomfortable. It asks us to just be a conduit for
the Holy Spirit, that Great Comforter. We cannot know all the miracles that will
blossom from that presence.