A Little-Known Burden (That's Rather Large)

As I read about Timothy and Epaphroditus yesterday morning, there was a verse that stood out to me, but it was quite different from most verses that speak to me. Usually, the verses I'm drawn to are verses that challenge me. But this one caught my attention for a different reason.

"For he longs for all of you and is distressed because you heard he was ill."

Philippians 2:26. I'm guessing you've never heard a message on that verse, have you? Exactly, neither have I. It's not at all surprising that it jumped out at me, though. Because how normalizing to read that Epaphroditus was distressed because the Philippians heard he was ill.
I know that distress.
I know it well.

This is a really atypical text observation, God. And it makes sense that it would catch my attention, though I’m not really sure how to practically apply it to my life. Maybe You simply want me to receive Your permission to accept that reality?

The night before I came to that verse, my husband made a minor shift in his schedule to accommodate having dinner with me while our son was at a basketball game. Something he knew I wanted because I'd mentioned it earlier. A normal response to a kind gesture like that would have been a warm and fuzzy one, not the adverse reaction I threw back at him. When he told me about the shift he was making, he said that I always accommodate him and his schedule, and he wanted to accommodate mine this time. Super loving, right? Well, I sorta lashed back by reminding him that he’s been accommodating me and my sickness for 10 years.

That really bothers me. It weighs on me.
Frankly, I hate it, Lord.

(Besides, it's so much more comfortable to be the giver than the receiver. Receiving can be such a vulnerable experience.)

You see, when we think of our friends who are trudging through chronic illness, it's right on point to follow what the Bible says about bearing one another's burdens. In addition, you need to know about a burden your sick friend is bearing. It's the burden of your concern for her. She's bearing your burden for her -- in addition to all the burdens of her illness.

"For he longs for all of you and is distressed because you heard he was ill."

Epaphroditus was the sick one, and HE was distressed -- because of his community's concern, because of their distress. The emotional burden that a sick person bears on behalf of others, in light of others’ concern for them, is real.
And it's heavy.

Might I offer a little sidebar suggestion? The next time you visit or talk to your sick friend, please be aware that she knows you're concerned about her. And she knows you have some of the same questions she does about her circumstances. There's nothing you can do to alleviate that burden, but you can avoid adding to it. Here's how: Don't compound your friend's burden by sharing how concerned you are about her.

This concept is covered exceptionally well in this article about the Ring Theory: How to Not Say the Wrong Thing. It’s an article on grieving, not chronic illness, but suffering with chronic illness always comes with a grief journey, so the principles certainly apply.

Here's what that article doesn't mention, though. There's a certain amount of "dumping in" that happens with absolutely no interaction. Why? Because I know my family and close friends care about me. When I'm not doing well, I don't have to hear about my parents' concern to know they're concerned. And I don't have to hear my husband say how difficult it is to be at the mercy of both me and his business when I'm bedridden. I can see the weight of it all when he's single-handedly juggling care giving with work while functioning somewhat as a single parent during those times.

So to borrow the phraseology from that article, “Comfort in. Dump out.” There's enough implicit burden in the situation. No need to compound it. 

"For he longs for all of you and is distressed because you heard he was ill."

So what do I do with this verse, Lord? . . . 
You beckon me to come to You, all who are weary and heavy laden. You beckon me to bring You the burden I bear on my husband's behalf. I’m not sure I always even know how to hand a burden over to You, God. It seems so abstract. 
Yet here I am, desiring to take it off my shoulders and place it on Yours.
Amen.

After a bit more internal kicking and screaming from my pain, my husband and I had dinner together, by the way. All was not lost.

“Let the past rest, but let it rest in the sweet embrace of Christ.”
~ Oswald Chambers (My Utmost for His Highest, 12/31)