As some of you may know, I'm a big fan of Frederick Buechner. I love the depth and melody of his words. I like most of what he's written, but I'm especially fond of his book, "Listening to Your Life." Over many years now, several of his observations have stuck with me and what follows is one of them. It is entitled "Cripples All of Us," and it goes like this: "Pushing down hard with his fists on the table-top, he heaved himself up to where he was standing. For the first time we saw he wanted one leg. It was gone from the knee joint down. He was hopping sideways to reach for his stick in the corner when he lost his balance. He would have fallen in a heap if Brendon hadn't leapt forward and caught him. 'I'm as crippled as the dark world,' Gildas said. 'If it comes to that, which one of us isn't, my dear?' Brendan said. Gildas with but one leg. Brandon sure he's misspent his whole life entirely. Me that had left my wife to follow him and buried our only boy. The truth of what Brendan said stopped all our mouths. We was cripples all of us. For a moment or two there was no sound but the bees. 'To lend each other a hand when we're falling,' Brendan said, 'Perhaps that's the only work that matters in the end.'"
Indeed, we all need a helping hand. We all fall. We're all afraid of the dark, of being alone, and of being known. We're all haunted in one way or another and we all get possessed from time to time. We share a common journey. We all need to love and be loved and we all need to be forgiven. We all have a greatness within us that we wish everyone could see; we're all burdened by the weight of our secrets; and we're all wishing- some praying- that someone will alleviate a bit of our pain.
Jim's wife has Alzheimer's. He visits her every day even though she hasn't recognized him for some time. Jill's husband had it too, and toward the end he became moody and difficult. George traveled the same path with his wife. Susie buried her son years ago, but it seems like yesterday to her. Joe buried his daughter and he never got over it. In every church that I served, there were always a handful of men and women who had buried their children... and their deep sadness was just below the surface. They got by of course, but each one had moments when they were consumed by a gut-wretching and heart-stabbing pain.
Ann lost her husband, Ron lost his wife, and there were hundreds of others in the same boat. Given the age of many of the people whom I pastored, it was not uncommon to know someone who had buried a spouse. Most of them never remarried, but even if they did, they never forgot the time when they thought things would never change. Sometimes openly, mostly secretly, they cried for the one whom had been their reason for living. There are many others who carry the pain of being betrayed and/or a disappointment that their lives had turned out as they had. And then there are the everyday things that scare us to death and a thousand little deaths that we experience just by living. Truth us- life is difficult and we are cripples all of us. When I worked for the Commission for the Blind, I would often play poker with men who were totally blind and when I attended AA meetings, I gathered with friends who had shattered the lives of people they loved, even as the demon called "Alcohol" had shattered their lives. Now, on Sunday mornings I am congregate with men and women who need me as much as I need them. I don't most of their stories, any more that they know mine, but I know the stuff that their stories are made of... because we're all in this together.We're not as different as we think we are. We're not as alone as we feel. We're not the only ones with shattered dreams and broken hearts, and we're not the only ones who have this or that need... or this or that fear.
Astrophysicists tell us that we all carry the stardust of creation is our DNA and as a genealogy buff, I know that I have more than 1 million 19x great-grandparents. You do too and we're probably related. More importantly, we all carry the Image of God within us. We have the same stuff and we share a common journey. We are indeed, brothers and sisters and cousins in one big family... and as Christians, we are called to love one another as Christ loved us, which means steadfastly, personally, and sacrificially. As Christians we are part of community in which we are called to "lend a hand" to others, even as we grasp their hands when we have fallen. When we have the opportunity, we must lend a hand to those in need... and when we're down and fearful, one of our brothers or sisters is obliged to lift us up. This is the way it must be because we're on this journey together.
When Jesus healed Peter's mother-in-law, she immediately served him, and after Jesus had showered his own with love, he expected them to stay awake with him as he suffered in Gethsemane. We are on this journey together and we are called to receive and lend a helping hand- maybe even on the same day. I'm not sure that lending a hand is the "only" work that matters... but it is certainly a sacred act and a most Christ-like thing to do!
