Dear Inner Circle,
Wayside’s strength comes from our ability to remain in proximity to the pain of this world, resisting the urge to fill that space with any noise, advice or solution.
When someone presents in a state of distress, this approach may sound like foolishness, especially to a solution focused world. However, in its rawest form, it is an act of faith. Faith perhaps not as one would expect from the keyboard of a minister, but rather as a belief that in the darkness, in groans and despair, there resides a spirit of healing.
She’s tiny and shy, and doesn’t run on a predictable timeline, but if given the chance, she may begin to whisper into a hurting heart. Holding that space is an exercise in being a tower of weakness when every impulse is to leap in.
I have seen our loving staff and volunteers enter the darkest spaces, bearing only the lanterns of presence and an ordinary cup of instant coffee. When the path that we thought was ours closes, our minds rush frantically to seek answers when the heart just needs to be held. Any saccharine solution offered is most often just a salve to the listeners’ worry. Pop in anytime for a cuppa and sit around long enough to witness a masterclass in vulnerability—it’s sadly a scene that plays out every day.
I recently began a quiet chat with a lovely bloke who started to share how deeply he’d been wrestling with the ‘black dog’ when we were joined by another lovely old fellow who, bidden or unbidden, always seems to be present in conversations. He often starts with berating me in his loud voice, moving between sharing his exploits, memories or telling a joke that only he understands. He didn’t appear to be experiencing psychosis, however his contribution bore no connection to the conversation into which he jumped.
I jabbed and sparred until I was able to land a few questions in the hope that there might have been a connection that we’d somehow missed. There wasn’t. We were then joined by a couple that had a lot of news to share, all of it was fascinating even if I already had multiple separate conversations happening at the table. Each tried to catch me up on exploits and they both decided now was the right moment. Unfortunately it was clear that each of them had vastly different tales to tell, at the same time.
Not long after we were joined in our circle by another person who began sharing a story about coming to terms with the loss of her health. It was a truly distressing plight although no one was listening. They were all too busy telling their own stories of heartache. I sometimes allow myself to sit amid such a cacophony and just take it all in. My heart wants to split in five separate directions and although I’m rather useless in this situation, it seems like just being physically present is something of a feeble gift. As I moved to slowly extricate myself from the group, the sound of more voices could be heard coming up from the street. The voices didn’t sound unhappy, but they didn’t sound coordinated either. It is quite a thing to listen to someone who has no expectation of being heard. It’s difficult but every now and then, they open their eyes and see that someone is with them and for them. That’s where the magic happens. It is such an important place.
This note comes to you from Melbourne, where Lisa and I have snuck down to surprise mum for her birthday and visit a brand-new grand-nephew. They won’t have seen us yet by the time you read this note, so let’s keep this a secret between us.
Thank you for being part of the Inner Circle,
Jon
Rev. Jon Owen
CEO & Pastor
Wayside Chapel
