Years ago our family inherited a springer spaniel-poodle mix, named Oliver by his previous owner. Oliver could jump five feet in the air with all four of his feet simultaneously off the ground, making eye contact with me at the word spelled out: “W-A-L-K.”
I loved Oliver. We were made of the same stuff: loveable, laughable, faithful, and “in-your-face.” God also created us both with the gift of compassion, "...rejoicing with those who rejoice and mourning with those who mourn" (Rom. 12:15). Typically, I was the one who took him for walks, since I was the only one who fully understood his “compassionate” nature. I assured those who cautiously approached us to give us some time to get it out of our system and they’d love us! I managed to salvage a few friends in spite of Oliver’s social habits, and so did he. One of his dog friends was a beautiful, shiny coated auburn Irish setter named Quincy.
One particularly cold winter’s day in mid-January, Quincy and his owner met Oliver and me at a natural area where we could allow our dogs to run free. As the two dogs played together, our conversation meaningfully unfolded until we heard a loud, thunderous crack. Alarmed, we ran to the nearby creek where we discovered that Oliver had fallen through the ice in the middle of the creek and now hung helplessly on the edge by his two front paws.
All I could think of as I stared into his panicked eyes was the regret I’d experience if I left him to slip beneath the ice and be swept away with the current. So I did the unthinkable, against every fireman’s ice-safety rules. I lay down flat on my belly and shimmied the six feet across the ice to rescue him. When I reached him, I grabbed a hold of him and yanked with all my might, only to break through the ice myself while he still hung on to the edge. Thankfully, the frigid water was only waist high, and within seconds my friend shimmied to both our rescue. With a quick word of thanks, I made my way home in record time, where I promptly crated Oliver and jumped into a hot shower to thaw out.
While I’d never advise anyone to perform this type of mindless rescue, that’s my point. My heart was in rescue mode and waist deep in the water before my mind had anything to do with it! This is the story of my life! I think with my heart, respond to my life with my heart, speak and write “straight from the heart.” I minister with all my heart to the degree that if someone is drowning in their sorrow or pain, my tendency is to jump in heart-first, immersing myself in the deep waters of their life to rescue them, leaving not only my unthinking mind, but my husband and kids on the shore!
God created me this way, wired me to feel deeply the pain of others. I’m an Empath by nature—just like Jesus, by the way! Jesus had only to look upon a crowd to feel compassion on them (Matt. 9:36). He wept with Mary at the tomb of her brother, his friend Lazarus (John 11:35). He sweated drops of blood in the heart-wrenching, emotional agony of Gethsemane (Luke 22:44). Out of His love for each of us, He gave His own life to save us. The difference is—He is the Savior and I am not.
Years of emotionally exhausting rescue missions, along with an ongoing battle with compassion fatigue, have taught me that it’s more effective to stand on the shore and throw out a life preserver than to be pulled underwater and have both of us drown. I’ve learned the need to tap into my Savior’s divine “How To” manual—the Bible—not to be Jesus, but to manage others’ pain more like Jesus.
Here are a few tips I’ve learned on how to keep from drowning in someone else’s sorrows:
1. Let go of the Savior Complex. When we try to be a savior, we replace a person’s need for the Savior.
2. Validate pain. Weep with those who weep. Acknowledge that it hurts. Let others feel their own pain before attempting to take it from them.
3. Ask good questions. This is counseling Jesus’ style. Explore the Gospels to find every time Jesus leads discussion with a question. Rather than fixing a person’s problems, ask questions that will help them draw their own conclusions.
4. Assist without enabling. When we take on the full responsibility of other’s problems, we do a disservice to that person. Allow them to work through the tough stuff with the assurance that you’re there for them.
5. Pray for, or better yet, with the person. Praying offers the problem into the hands of the One who can work it out for their good.
6. Provide practical help. This can help to both share in and alleviate some of their anguish without being the sole provider.
7. Encourage. Send an email, mail a card, and/or make a phone call.
8. Throw the lifeline called Jesus. Rather than feel responsible to give all the answers, offer the One who is the Answer. Point them to Jesus.
“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our” (2 Cor. 1:3-7).
