Burdened

Ugh.

Social media.

I love it.

And I hate it.

It's been the source of quite a bit of heaviness in my heart lately.

It seems like lately there isn't a Facebook login or a daily blog reading session that doesn't outline some sort of tragedy or immense pain or loss. I'm talking situations that wrench my heart, weigh on my mind. Things I can't even begin to justify or make sense of. 

One blog I clicked on simply posted link after link after link of families across the country in need of prayer, in need of Jesus, in need of a miracle.

Just thinking about these stories now brings a lump in my throat.

Where are you, Lord?

This has been a common theme the past few weeks.

I'm a feeler. Always have been. What I see/hear/read affects me deeply. I can't shake it. Even if it's a complete stranger. But that's what social media has done. It's taken strangers and put them in our living rooms. We have access to pictures, details, and daily updates. Suddenly, this stranger isn't a stranger. It's a friend, a dear friend, a brother or sister in Christ that's hurting. 

The hurt isn't just in foreign countries, or in isolated hospital rooms, or on the news.

It is everywhere we look.

Often I wish I was one of those people who could read a story about someone who was going through something difficult and then forget it. 

But I can't forget.

And honestly, I don't want to.

This week I had to make unexpected trip home after dropping Wesley off at Mother's Day Out. "Hey, I've got a few minutes", I thought. "And I'm thinking....Facebook." I was almost immediately confronted with a story about a tiny newborn named Easton. Easton came into this world in unbearable pain, with blisters covering the majority of his body. He has a very rare skin disorder, and is the worst case his doctor's have seen. His parents cannot even touch him without hurting him severely. I sat at my computer and sobbed, then fell to my knees and begged God for mercy. Begged Him to please make this tiny baby's pain stop. Eventually I pulled myself up, wiped away the tears and got in my car, knowing I needed to carry on with my day. I had things to do, though suddenly they didn't seem so important. It would have been so much easier not knowing about this sweet baby and his family.

But I do know.

And as I drove down the highway with tears rolling down my cheeks, I thanked God. I thanked Him for making me aware of this family's hurt. I thanked Him for letting me hurt with them. And I asked Him if, from a million miles away, He would rest that family's burden on me. That I could carry it somehow, even if just in part. And if in doing so, that tiny baby and his parents would feel some relief. 

That their burden would be less, the load lightened.

But maybe that's how it's supposed to be.

What's the alternative? Turning a blind eye? Feeling sympathetic but forgetting? Or the worst of all, adopting the attitude of "I'm so glad it isn't me."

No. May it never be!

May I never ignore the suffering around me. Quite the contrary, may I always feel the hurt as if it were my own. Lord, for their sake, burden me!

I can't make sense of the pain in this world. At times it is unbearable, and prompts me to beg the Lord for His return. 

So here's my response: Let me have it. Let me carry the burden. I'll read countless stories, cry countless tears, and walk around with an ache in my chest if it prompts me pray, act, minister, and be more like You. 

We know that prayer is "powerful and effective" (see James 5:16). What an honor to be given the opportunity to lift these precious ones up in prayer to our heavenly Father "who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine" (Ephesians 3:20).

A couple of weeks ago I joined a Facebook group to band together with those who were lifting up up a beautiful little girl who is battling brain cancer. I watched the group grow from about 6,000 members to the now 56,393 who are pleading to God on her behalf. Jesus tell us in Matthew 18:20 that "where two or three are gathered in my name, there I am with them." Certainly You are here, Lord. What comfort, what joy!

And for the names who are not just names to me: I do not know you but my heart breaks with yours. I do not understand why this is happening. But I do know Jesus. I know He loves me, and He loves you. And out of the pain I will lift you up before His throne with boldness and in confidence. And I will carry your burden, from miles and miles away.

" 'The Lord bless you and keep you;

the Lord make His face shine on you and be gracious to you;

the Lord turn His face toward you and give you peace.' "

-Numbers 6:24-26

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"Take part in the joy of those who are glad, and in the grief of those who are sorrowing."

-Romans 12:15