You and I Impact One Another

I sit crumpled up in a heap on the floor.  I can't believe it.  I am utterly utterly stunned.  Like I've been kicked in the gut - all the air knocked out of me. My feet knocked out from under me. Another marriage in the toilet.  Not my marriage, but the marriage of good friend.  I am praying for this family, and yet, can't pray, can't get my breath enough to pray.  I'm thinking to myself, why is this so devastating?  Why does my heart feel ripped out of my chest and beating like a lethargic blob on the floor next to me?

I put myself in my friends' shoes.  I feel the horror, the betrayal, all the years of sweet history and building blocks carefully laid, children joyfully born, ministry sown and tilled together.  Gone.  And not just gone, but leaving a wake of devastation.  Devastation to each other, to the children, to the family, to all the hundreds of Christian brothers and sisters ministered to all these many years. Then I feel my own grief, pain and betrayal.  I, too, feel betrayed as a sister in Christ, who has walked with my friends through the ups and downs of life.  I am grieving for my friends and for myself. I am grieving for the loss of all that is true and good and right.

It hits me how much we impact one another.  When my Christian brother or sister endures terrible hardship - a sickness, a loss, a faith-testing trial - and perseveres, giving God the glory, my faith is strengthened.  It gives me the courage to endure my hardships, knowing that "the testing of [my] faith produces endurance.  And may endurance be allowed have its perfect effect, so that [I] will be perfect and complete, not deficient in anything." James 1:3-4.

Conversely, when our brother or sister falls away, walks away from his/her faith and breaks fellowship with the body, it is soul-crushing.  We grieve with deep sighs and groans. We feel vulnerable.  Sometimes lost. We are left in the wake of the devastation, helping to pick up the pieces of those left behind.  Or just looking around in disbelief. It can be likened unto a death.

The hardest part is how to respond.

Do we get angry at the offender, ostracizing him or her?  Do we shy away from comforting the offended because we don't know what to say?

A couple of years ago we were hiking in a Redwood forest in Northern California and were in awe of these majestic Sequoias stretching up to the heavens.  The razor rays of sunlight cut through the dense branches to the forest floor, creating an ethereal aura around us.  We were amazed to discover that these tallest and largest of species of tree have very shallow root systems.  How in the world can they stably stand against storms and wind and earthquake? Their root system is entwined with the other trees around them, stretching for 100s of feet outward, yet only 5-6 feet under the ground.  They actually hold each other up because they are tangled together in a messy web of strength.  This is why we are so affected by each other - we are in a messy tangle together - called life.

"Our strength comes from our tangled up roots, 

and from the recognition that alone we fall, 

but together we stand." 

 (Kathy Escobar)

As my heart breaks for both of my friends, I write their names on my bathroom mirror to remind myself to pray for them daily. Both are hurting.  Both are in need of Jesus.  We are in this tangled mess together. 

The trouble begins when we are "lured and enticed by [our] own desires, and sin is birthed after our desire is conceived...when sin is full grown, it gives birth to death." (James 1:14-15 paraphrase) There is such a mystery in how we let our hearts harden, and how our hardened hearts continue down a dark path until there is no return, save Christ rescuing us.


Those we rejoice with, who have suffered greatly and triumphed, inspire our faith because they fight the fight against the conception of sin, God helping them. They have won the battle over the lies and enticing whispers of the evil one, who, "like a roaring lion, is on the prowl looking for someone to devour." (I Peter 5:8)   This kind of suffering positions us with Christ who, "suffered in the flesh, [and so we] also arm [ourselves] with the same attitude, because the one who has suffered in the flesh has finished with sin."  (1 Peter 4:1) 

Holy Spirit rises up in us saying, "Yes! This is right! This is way!  Walk in it!" Suffering with Christ deepens fellowship with Him, who suffered all temptations, and yet was without sin.  It changes us, making us more like Him.


Peter even goes further to say, "because the one who has suffered in the flesh has finished with sin, in that he spends the rest of his time on earth concerned about the will of God and not human desires." Each trial we suffer through, each pain and grief where Christ meets us, draws us further away from that path of destruction that leads to death.  It actually makes us more concerned about God's path.

But. It. Is. Painful.  

Shall we suffer in the flesh now?  Or shall we suffer for eternity?

"Dear friends, do not be astonished that a trial by fire is occurring among you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice in the degree that you have shared in the sufferings of Christ, so that when his glory is revealed you may also rejoice and be glad." (1 Peter 4:12-13)

You and I.  We are so entwined.  When you suffer, I suffer; when you triumph through your suffering, my faith is strengthened; when you lose your faith, stand on my shoulders, I will carry you until you find your faith legs underneath you again.  But if you walk away because your heart has been enticed and hardened, it isn't just grievous to you and those closest to you, but to all of us brothers and sisters. For better or worse, in sickness and in health, we impact one another. 

Our strength comes from our tangled up roots, 

and from the recognition that alone we fall, but together we stand.