“I don’t give breaks”
Christ the Consolator
I see tired people.
At work, in my family, at church. When I’m in meetings, at the grocery store, and in so many other places. They seem to be everywhere.
Tired moms. Worn out workers. Exhausted teachers and others whose work is to serve and to care for others. Leaders and friends and other brothers and sisters along the path.
Fatigue is easiest to see in their faces.
“How much longer?”
“I can’t do this anymore.”
“Why doesn’t anyone help me?”
”I’m so tired. Just a little rest. Even a few minutes would be lovely.”
My instinct is to help them - to lighten their load somehow. And yet, far too often, I find an excuse for why “right now” isn’t convenient and promise to help “next time.” Sadly, not some of my best moments. But I strive.
Recently I sat in a church meeting behind a woman whose husband currently serves in a leadership position that requires him to be away from her and their family for many hours each week. They have several children, most of whom are either young adults or teenagers. Several of them sat around their mother. I watched her minister to each one. Some she held. Some she whispered to. Some she drew near to her, even if they seemed unwilling to be drawn. I saw the lines of worry on her face, and the weariness. I was awed by her love.
I’ve been thinking a lot about tests and physical and spiritual fatigue over the last several weeks as I have been blessed with an unexpected opportunity to grow. It’s not a test I would’ve chosen for myself (but when are they ever ones we would choose?) and although my initial impulse was to want it to end quickly, I’m learning to sit in my discomfort and accept the truth that I need to improve.
This has brought back a story I hear several years ago. It was shared by Shauna Thompson, a family friend, and was later made into a short video by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I know you are probably busy right now now, and maybe don’t have time to watch this at the moment. But I want to ask you to please make time to watch it. If not now, soon. If I were sitting with you, wherever you are, and I could take you by the hand and look into your eyes, you would hear me say “Watch this as soon as you can. It’s six minutes that will help you. It won’t be easy to watch. But it’s important. Please watch it.”
After this video was released, there was a companion article about the story behind it published in The Church News, which included the following account and from which the title of this post you’re reading is taken.
The video focuses on the Thompson's experience of finding peace amid Chase's drug addiction, but there's another side of the story that didn't make it on camera.
Thompson's family was faced with an onslaught of trials within months. Chase's death, a lingering illness and other family issues continued to pile on.
It got to the point where Thompson wasn't sure she could take it anymore. In desperation, she knelt down and pleaded with her Heavenly Father to just "give me a break."
The answer she received was a "wake-up call."
"I specifically remember the answer, and it was 'I'm sorry. I don't give breaks. I don't give breaks, I'm trying to make you into something. If I gave each of my children breaks, so much progress would be lost. I don't have time to give my children breaks, but what I can give you is my peace. Every time you ask for it, that's what I can give you,'" Thompson recalled. (Emphasis added.)
“I don’t give breaks.”
I DON’T GIVE BREAKS.
Does that hit you like it hits me?
When we’re tired. When we have been going and going and don’t see an end to the going. When we are feeling mistreated or misunderstood and want more than anything to just be held, comforted, and assured - understanding that He can and will come to our aid brings hope. But also understanding that His comfort does not equal a premature removal of the trial we’re undergoing, no matter how sore or severe it may be, is vital to our growth.
Even Jesus Christ prayed “if it be possible” for His bitter cup to be removed - for “a break” as it were. But instead, significantly, “there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him” (Luke 22:43.) Remembering the lesson of this answer when I am in the middle of a test is not easy. Sometimes I am guilty of shrinking, or at the least of entertaining the temptation to “drink not” my own bitter cup.
The Savior has many names and titles, each one rich with meaning. I have several favorites, including of course The Bright and Morning Star.
But perhaps my most favorite name or title given to Him is one not actually found in the scriptures, although it is something we are certainly taught repeatedly about Him there.
It is Consolator, taken from Carl Bloch’s painting Christus Consolator.
I could spend hours looking at this painting, thinking about what it can teach me. I am each one of those surrounding the Savior. Sometimes grieving. Sometimes a sinner (okay…often.) Sometimes one with wounds in need of healing. Sometimes I come in chains, a prisoner of my own choices, in need of one with a key to remove my bonds and free me. And yes, frequently, I am weary and in search of His rest. What I love most about the painting, however, is who Christ is looking at. You. Me. Each of us. All of us. He is my Consolator, and yours.
“And he will console you in your afflictions, and he will plead your cause.”
Jacob 3:1
Compared to what Shauna and her family experienced with the loss of their son and brother, my trials are nothing. They probably don’t even rise to the level of a trial. More of an unpleasant but necessary irritant intended to refine.
For any who may be in the midst of a personal or family “fiery furnace,” know that you are loved and prayed for. If a break is deserved and wished for, I totally understand. The truth is, we are the ones who can offer “breaks” to beloved fellow travelers. Perhaps by literally taking another’s burden on our backs, but more often by being fully present for them, by giving relief, and by succoring those in need of our succor. I’m confident this is exactly what Jesus our Consolator would have us do.
Sweetest of all, when we attempt, however imperfectly, to provide comfort and relief to others, our own unseen wounds may miraculously be made whole.
Stript, wounded, beaten nigh to death,
I found him by the highway side.
I roused his pulse, brought back his breath,
Revived his spirit, and supplied
Wine, oil, refreshment—he was healed.
I had myself a wound concealed,
But from that hour forgot the smart,
And peace bound up my broken heart.
Thank you for reading. I hope you have found this helpful. I do it for you.
P.S. Speaking of breaks, as mentioned in my last post, we are in the process of moving to Washington. Right now my plan is to take the month of July off here and begin publishing again in August, but I may decide something is too important to share and return before then. But for now, until August, fare thee well.