Accept Encouragement.

Not long ago, a senior colleague at my job called me.

He called mostly to chat about work-related items, but as the conversation wound down, the conversation turned to a significant work event on the horizon for me.  “Hey,” he said, “is there anything I can do to support you?  Say the word—you’re never on your own with this.”

Several months ago, after another event that was a new horizon for me—there have been a lot of those lately—two different senior colleagues stopped by to offer me a pep talk.  “You’re going to be great,” they enthused.  “We’re rooting for you!”

At almost every critical point in my path, God has provided people to encourage me.

I suppose He knows I need them.  I have always had two chief cheerleaders and encouragers in my life: my husband, and my mother.  When Mom passed away, I lost a member of my support network.  But through my husband and through perfect strangers—often those with no obligation to notice or care what I am doing—God speaks hope and cheerfulness and warmth into my life.

I am desperately grateful.  But not everyone is.

Recently, an individual I know was complaining about the exact same type of experiences.  “And there are these people,” she spat,” who come up with their oh can I help you and you’re awesome, you’ve got this, and it’s so condescending—”

“What?” I asked, bewildered.

“It’s condescending,” she said, and I was surprised by how angry she was.  “To pretend like I would need help or support, or that I didn’t ‘have this’ already on my own.  Like, excuse you—I’m fine.”

I felt almost as though I had done something wrong.  And then I just felt sad, because I recognized so much of our current cultural moment in the way that she spoke.  We live—at least in America—in a society that now emphasizes the autonomy—even the divinity—of the individual.  The Self is all.  Happiness is following your desires, your beliefs, your truth, your perceptions, being guided by the all and everything that is inside of you.

Much ink has been spilled on the ramifications of this relevant to belief in God, because concepts like “salvation” and “Christ” and “God” and “obedience” and even “faith” don’t make a lot of sense in a system where everything exists to express and perpetuate your reliance on your own deified self.  But what also  bothers me is what this worldview can do to the way we view and rely on others.

I benefit from encouragement because I recognize my own lack.  I know where I’m weak; I don’t know everything; I sometimes don’t recognize my own skills or abilities.  Other people can help me.  I sometimes need them—to give me strength to move forward, to tell me what I’m missing, to show me who I am when I’m not always sure.  I need other people.  I want the voice and words of other people.

But that means admitting I can’t do it all myself.

I’m fortunate that I’ve never been cursed with that particular struggle.  I like help.  I’ve never been a self-perpetuating belief machine.  In fact, my problem might be that I crave encouragement and validation too much.  But I do, at least, recognize encouragement when I see it.  And kindness.  And I fundamentally realize that those are not things I can give myself.  That God loves me, but also loves me through others.

It seems so lonely to me to live in a world where self-belief means finding kindness and encouragement to be contempt.  Or to live in a world where I would pretend I wouldn’t want those things or didn’t need them.  Sometimes, much of the beauty of being human is finding where we exist in community with others.  In knowing we aren’t alone.  In the unexpected and quiet delight of a hand up when we need it.

I’ll share a memory that gives me strength often.  I come from a very small rural town, and in that town, a little country church.  I have known the people in that congregation my whole life.  They are like family to me.  When I got married, and moved away from the town and the state I’d lived in, the church gathered for a blessing. 

The pastor stood me up in front of the church and said the prayer, and then, at the end, hugged me and said, “Keep on praying for her, folks.  This one’s homegrown!  She’s ours.”  And I looked out at a sea of warm faces all nodding and I realized they would pray for me.  And they did.  And they have. 

Through my wedding, and another move, and two additional degrees, through job loss, and a new job, and my father’s heart attack, and my mother’s cancer.  They prayed for me at her funeral.  They call and they pray for me now.

They will be praying for me until they die or I do.  And God has worked though them to encourage me and help me to keep going and to do any number of things I couldn’t otherwise have done. In a very real way, I would not be here without them.

I understand that it’s easy to be cynical.  Suspicious.  I understand we live in a culture that screams at us constantly “you are all and you are enough.”  But it is okay, it is necessary, it is so important to allow those warm and encouraging voices in.  To let others lift you up.  To draw strength from the good and kind people God brings to your door.

He loves you.  And He loves you through them, too.