I once read a book by Ann Graham Lotz (Billy Graham’s daughter) entitled “In Every Pew Sits a Broken Heart”. I’ve often wondered, as I’ve taken my seat in the 3rd pew from the front right side,

“Whose heart is breaking here today?”

The thing is, we’re all so good at coming to church with our game faces on that it’s hard to tell. But, as Pastor H. A. Ironside told his seminary students, “Always preach to broken hearts and you will never lack for an audience.”

I have several friends going through trials right now. Each situation is different, each one is painful. I have these dear names written on a card that I keep in my prayer book. “Carry one another’s burdens,” the Apostle Paul told his friends in Galatia. But how do we do that, exactly?

“What do I do with other people’s pain, Lord?”
“Child, learn from the Good Samaritan.”

Good Sam was walking down the road when he noticed someone in the ditch, beaten and bloody. It wasn’t his tragedy. It wasn’t his problem. He could have kept going. Instead, he entered into the pain and did what he could. The Bible says it was compassion that drove him to action. (Luke 10:30-35)

I think God puts others’ sorrows in our hearts from time to time. The inability to shake off the burden must mean that we are being invited in, to help shoulder the load. It should be received as a privilege. To share in someone’s grief is a holy summons. Maybe the nudge means nothing more than to pray. Perhaps at that moment, no one else is doing that for our wounded friends. The hurting person may never even know that our tears and prayers went to the throne on their behalf. It is a hidden ministry — an anonymous service.

It takes time.
It requires emotional energy.
It demands a compassionate heart.
But,
we dare not walk by on the other side.  

There’s more.

Good Sam did what he could — above and beyond what most would do. He eased the poor man’s pain and tended to his wounds. Good Sam put the helpless victim on his donkey and took him to an inn where he stayed with him for one night.

Then he left.

He didn’t stop living his life. He carried on with his other responsibilities. Yet he provided resources and caretakers with a promise to follow up and continue to help.

That’s a truth we need to hear.
Our job is to enter into others’ pain in order to carry them to Jesus —
not to carry them.
Only the Everlasting Arms are able to bear that kind of load.

Like Good Sam, we need to check in regularly and see what needs tending. It might mean providing a meal or a hug or a well-chosen book. It might mean introducing other caretakers who can meet a particular need. It might mean interrupting your regularly scheduled program for an intense season of suffering alongside a friend.

Look down your pew this Sunday and watch for broken hearts.

They are hiding there.
Let compassion move you
to help carry a burden,
to soothe a wound,
to bind up a hurt.

Of course, broken hearts aren’t only in pews.
Many more are outside the doors of the church.
Take your compassion with you into the world.
It’s desperate for hope and help.