I was weeping. Sitting on the swing set, eyes looking up toward the darkened sky, asking God to take this weight in my chest, this pain that I felt. 

The day had been rough. In ministry, we talked to a woman who had just gone through something deeply painful; she was grieving. When I walked into the room where she sat, the heaviness hit me like a brick, it saturated the air, making it so thick that it was almost hard to breathe. We prayed with her, trying our best to encourage her in the midst of her grief. For myself at least, I felt incredibly inadequate and unworthy to have encountered this woman. What words could I say? What could I do? 

I felt her pain deeply, and I had no idea what do with it. I carried it for hours, all around Santiago during ministry, throughout lunch, on the bus ride back to the base, and finally, when I could bear it no longer, to that swing set where I sat with God. 

I had a dilemma. I wanted him to take this pain away, because I knew this woman’s grief was not mine to hold. but I also did not want to disconnect or numb myself emotionally. 

Help me, Jesus. 

He showed me an image of my heart. It had this black mass attatched to it, almost like a scab. He began to tear that black mass off; slowly, tenderly, kindly. 

Wait God, didn’t you hear me? I don’t want to numb myself from this experience emotionally. I don’t want to completely detach. 

Wait. Just watch. 

So I did. As he tore that hardened mass off of my aching heart, I began to see white drops seeping into its crevices, sinking into its core. 

That black mass, that’s pain, the heaviness and the grief. That is not yours to hold. You get to give that away to me. 

That white liquid, that’s all the goodness you still get to keep. The sweetness of that woman, the beauty of that encounter. 

After that, I looked up at the sky and couldn’t stop for a while. It was captivating, looking up at the massive billows of dark blue clouds that framed those twinkly lights that are stars. I was in awe of the majesty of my King. How vast, how mighty, how great is He that He can bear all of that heaviness and take it on himself! And what a privilege it is that I don’t have to hold any of that, but instead I am left with only goodness! 

The ministry we do here has been incredibly heavy. I’ve been feeling that immensely, but I didn’t know what to do with that at all. I’m learning and growing, figuring it all out. With His help.

I’m not writing this blog in askance of pity, nor am I trying to showcase or glorify the ministry we do here. No, I desire to invite you into something I’ve learned recently and am continuing to grow in: giving my heaviness to the Lord. 

The reality of it is this: no matter where we are, we all have pain, grief, and heaviness that we bear - whether that’s our own or someone else’s. This is a broken world. Everyone carries brokenness in their stories and lives. 

The Lord is so incredibly kind to take our pain and weight. He invites us into that. What a blessing that we don’t have to numb ourselves or detach from that pain. 

What are you holding onto that isn’t yours to carry? What pain or weight do you need to release into the willing arms of the Father? 

You are SO loved and appreciated friend! 

Emma 

emmasnowaustin@gmail.com