Have you ever wondered why some people seem slow to ask for help?
It might be that their struggles are hidden, it might be that their suffering is well known, but, for some reason, they don’t reach out for prayer or care. Maybe they’re battling an addiction, but only tell you about the temptations after they’ve given in. Maybe their marriage is on the rocks, but they don’t admit the strife. Or they’re in debt, but only seek counsel after the bailiffs have been round. Sometimes it seems as if people are not being responsible in their pain. Frustration can easily build, but if we understand their reluctance a little more, the Lord’s call to compassion can be easier to share.
It needs to be said that wilful disobedience to pursue what is best is, of course, a factor for all of us. Everyone can stubbornly resist the call to turn to the Lord and, like the prodigal of Luke 15, sit in their metaphorical pigsty until they repent and return to their wonderful home. But, for many people, a reluctance to ask for help is not a just matter of sin, but a matter of fear. What is there to be scared of? Five big areas crop up time after time:
1. Fear of weakness. We live in a culture where we are taught to be strong. In our churches we are frequently encouraged to battle and overcome. The result is that being weak is equated with being inadequate, ineffective or bad.
2. Fear of vulnerability. Struggling people have often been hurt. When we admit our struggles, we are making ourselves susceptible to the possibility of others ‘kicking us when we’re down’.
3. Fear of isolation. We often suspect that being open is going to result in being rejected by God and friends, or removal from activities we truly enjoy. We put off that loss as long as we can.
4. Fear of failure. It’s one thing to admit that life is a mess when we’re not trying, but what if we attempt to live more faithfully and still mess up? That can feel a hundred times worse.
5. Fear of living differently. Our sin and suffering may be painful, but it’s familiar. We can be scared to go somewhere new.
Add to that the culture of some churches where asking for help is rare, and it’s no surprise that people hold back.
So, what can we do?
Telling people to ‘just ask’ will have little effect. Pointing out some of the many ‘one another-ing’ verses in the Bible has its place, but if done in isolation is unlikely to result in change. Far better to pursue people gently and introduce them to the narrative of weakness that Scripture shows from end to end.
We can remind people it’s normal to want to hide (it’s been the tendency since Genesis 3), but there is nothing odd about being in a mess. From Elijah’s despair to Noah’s drunkenness, from Timothy’s illness to Paul’s thorn in the flesh, Scripture is clear there are only weak people in the Kingdom of God – all equally reliant on mercy and grace. Pastors can help model this by (appropriately) admitting their own weakness too.
We can paint a picture of the God who doesn’t stop loving or bringing about his good purposes in the lives of his chosen children. Describe and model church as a fallible but beautiful body where all are bound together by a bond so unshakeably intimate and safe that we can’t help but mourn with those who mourn.
We can explain that sanctification and faith is never a journey of victory alone. When Paul talks about running a race, he isn’t envisioning a state-of-the-art track under a clinical dome, but a filthy course that left athletes mired with muck. We can finish the race, but not without dirt.
In addition, we can assert the end of the race will be wonderful – that’s worth pursuing even when hard.
It is with those building blocks in place that people become able to turn and ask for help with confidence. It’s then that true transformation starts to be seen.
