TO BEAR HIS NAME
My mom had started working Thursdays and Fridays at the salon. Sleepily, we’d rest on the couch, entertaining ourselves with made-up games or laughing about nothing, until we heard the rumble of the garage. How we greeted her depended on the day. Sometimes, we’d pretend to be asleep or turn off the lights in an attempt to scare her. Rushing her to sit with us, she’d slide off her shoes, sinking into the slightly worn leather couch, letting out a deep sigh.
“My feet are killing me,” she’d say, wiggling her toes.
Like clockwork, Daniel would disappear for a moment, only to return with the cherry-scented Jergen’s lotion, planting himself at her feet.
“I’ll rub them for you, Mommy,” he’d offer.
It wasn’t just her feet. He’d scratch her scalp when she mentioned it itched, and when he started driving, he’d pick up something for her to eat on his way home. There was even a time he borrowed my car and brought it back washed, detailed, and filled with gas.
We only get glimpses of the kind and thoughtful Daniel now. Some have never known him to be that way, but, for the chosen ones, we’ve known a sensitivity, kindness, and selfless heart that we now miss.
For the line of work he chose, there wasn’t much room for kindness. He was limited in how much he could show it. We all watched as the kind parts of him grew callouses, the sensitivity dried up, and the thoughtfulness only appeared every blue moon. Still, beneath all the protective layers and learned behaviors, the truest version of him still lives—the part of his heart that is most sensitive to and most like the heart God gave him when He created him.
It’s not just my brother who has changed. My mom has been different since he’s been away. She’s still my mom, but not quite the same. Smiling, yet with a cloud that seems to block her sun; engaged, but not as attached. She’s protecting herself a little. Not exactly calloused in her soft spaces, just exhausted from the weight that's been put on them.
Life can pull us away from who God created us to be. Soft hearts harden. Kind-hearted people grow cynical. Forgiving people learn to put on “strength.” We all change, but when change is born from fear or pain, sometimes we overcorrect. We start to believe that God’s gifts and talents only count if they’re profitable by the world’s standards—but that’s not true.
Being bent toward compassion is a gift. Loving deeply and unselfishly is a gift. Being merciful and long-suffering is a gift. Yet at times, we curse these things, wishing we could be harder or quicker to walk away from people. But these gifts are part of our design, evidence of being created in the image of a perfect God, and when we choose to hide or to change our design we limit how God can move in us.
“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.” jAMES 1:17 [NIV]
At some point, after enough life happens, we begin to separate from ourselves. We decide we’re too open, too soft, too sensitive, or too direct. Instead of attributing the pain to the sin-sick world or recognizing that others are hurting in different ways, we blame ourselves.
“If I had just stopped messing with them…” or “I knew I should’ve cut them off sooner,” we tell ourselves, vowing it will be the last time we hurt in this way. But what we’re really saying is that this will be the last time we love in this way, show up in this way, or forgive in this way. We conclude that the pain that comes with being who we are is too much, so we decide to change. But when we do, the world suffers.
Your long fuse, sensitivity, gentle nature, boldness, or peace-making attitude—those traits you’ve “just always had”—are reflections of your Father. All good things come from God, and anything He has given us, He intends to use and knows how to use for His glory. These gifts mirror Him to the world, so why would we ever bury them?
When we consider God’s character, He is the only one who is never exhausted by people. Every day, He shows up with a fresh heart and perspective, seeing us through loving eyes and always hoping for the best of us to prevail. But, when we rely on ourselves to sustain us in dealing with life and others, exhaustion is inevitable. Our fuse runs out, our compassion and empathy wane, and our patience crumbles under the weight of flawed people. We end up choosing what feels good and easy because the alternative seems too difficult to bear alone.
We were all created by a perfect God, meaning we were made without error or mistake. Not that we are perfect, but He made each of us with intention—nothing was left out, and nothing was given by accident. To hide our hearts and the specific gifts He has given us keeps us from experiencing life and bearing His image the way He divinely intended.
“I will give thanks and praise to You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Wonderful are Your works,
And my soul knows it very well.” Psalms 139:14
There is safety in resting in the palm of God’s hands. Everything we need, He has. The betrayal, pain, and heartbreak He has experienced at our hands uniquely qualifies Him to equip us to handle the same. He equips us with the love that hopes and perseveres, the mind that keeps no record of wrongs, and the heart that chooses, again and again, to show up. We literally can’t do relationships without Him—we need Him. Let’s explore in scripture how God has called us to approach others.
Mark 10:45 “For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”
What do we learn about the heart of Jesus?
We learn how much he cares about people. Serve in this scripture means to “attend to anything that MAY serve another’s interest.”. Jesus died for the entire world, including those who will never choose Him. In our service of others it isn’t guaranteed that we will see, know, or experience a change in the person.
Romans 12:14-15 “Bless those who persecute you [who cause you harm or hardship]; bless and do not curse [them]. Rejoice with those who rejoice [sharing others’ joy], and weep with those who weep [sharing others’ grief].
What should our response be to those who cause us harm?
We should remain vulnerable. In being hurt, there is a knee jerk reaction to flee or to guard oneself from pain. Considering the Fruit of the Spirit and other spiritual gifting—gentleness, long-suffering, kindness, love, mercy and service— all these require a level of vulnerability.
We should remain prayerful. People cause harm when they are in pain. They are hurtful and full of darkness when they don’t know God. The only reason we know Him is because of the prayers of others and the way He reveals Himself through their lives. As His children we are called to pray for, bear with, and love on everyone.
We should remain empathetic. Empathy only happens through a willingness to remain open and purposefully choosing compassion and understanding.
Romans 12:16 “Never repay anyone evil for evil. Take thought for what is right and gracious and proper in the sight of everyone.”
What do we learn about our approach to others?
Our decisions are rooted in love. Jesus’s decision to die embodied what was right and gracious and proper for everyone.
Our decisions are rooted in biblical truth. Our response to others isn’t based on “people pleasing” or “letting them off easy”. It is based on how God has taught us and empowered us to deal with them through His word.
“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” 1CORINTHIANS 13:13 [niv].
Although we were affected by sin from the moment we entered the world, the nature and image in which we were created remain unchanged. God created us and gifted us with divine qualities that draw people to Him. However, these gifts can sometimes be perverted by the world and the darkness in others. And when not stewarded well, they can lead to resentment and coldness.
But God, who sustains and redeems all things, can be trusted to guide you in your relationships and interactions with others. The sensitivity you carry enables you to bear with others well. The mercy you extend invites people to be curious about the mercy of God. The grace you continually offer shines a light in the darkness. It doesn’t make you weak, nor is it humiliating or embarrassing. You are reflecting your Father. His nature is being illuminated in you.
For a while, fear drove many of the changes I made in myself. My mom, a bit spicier than me, wanted me to stand up for myself more. My brother, spicier than her, wanted me to stop being so naive. There is a lot of noise telling us how much is too much to give, and when enough is enough. But at what point did God say enough is enough for me—or for you? When did He hide Himself or decide we were no longer worth the effort?
There’s a world full of people He died for, people He endlessly loves and desires relationship with. Through our submission and His protection we are able to love fully and openly, showcasing His heart and image to everyone we are around.
