What a Feeling

Remembering our spiritual forefathers, I am drawn to the example of Aaron and Hur and how great a role they played in Moses's victory over the Amalekites. If it weren't for their unselfish gestures of support, how would the landscape of history have changed? How would God have shown His sovereignty and glory if not through the raised arms of Moses, held up by the strength and endurance of his trusted compatriots? I'm sure God would have devised another amazing, maybe even stupefying way to display His mighty fist. But this story speaks intimately to me through those two, who steadied the banner of God, which just so happened to be the weary arms of a friend.

I have been poked by this, because sometimes I only minister to the needs of my friends when they hurt, when they've fallen down the proverbial hill, and when my eyes see the blood. Would I climb the mountain to persevere for them? My heart cries out "of course I would!" because it breaks when their pain is evident to me, whether spoken or simply sensed. But what about the times when they are experiencing His joy? He has designed us to be limited, and even in the times when we are joyfully serving Him to our utmost, there are some tasks that do require a third or fourth hand. Why do I only look for the fallen, when I can also be used to give a boost to the faithful servant who could reach a little higher if only with a bit of help?

My 7 year old nephew sparked this notion in me one Sunday in GX service. Motivated by the speaker's assignment to not only befriend those who would be there for you, but also to be the kind of friend people seek out, Nicholas asked me how my big toe was doing. This threw me for a loop, because I had practically forgotten about my latest mishap. Back over Christmas, I had pulled a ligament in my right big toe while working on the master bathroom. And here I was, more than three months later, still nursing my "work"-related injury, but going at it solo, because those around me had moved on with life. It's not to say that I expect my friends to nurse me back to health (how would they?). But the mere mention of it struck an encouraging chord in me that I have long not felt. The same chicken nugget consuming boy who I am quick to reprimand for drinking too much milk before dinner's end reached out to hold up my arm...I mean big toe. When I questioned why he recalled the clumsy event, he simply replied, "I knew it hurt a lot." And even though I was walking almost normally that day, somehow he knew I had just gotten used to the pain. Now his asking did not instantaneously heal my toe, but it may as well have. This kind of championing made me walk with less of a limp that day.

Ultimately, what is my driving motivation? To encourage (which is not my gifting) so that my friends feel better no matter what level they're at? Possibly. But more likely, God is just waiting for another tidbit of glory to come His way. And that morsel doesn't always have to come from His pulling us from the wreckage.

On an indirectly related note, check this out. Now this is tight. Why can't it be this simple?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IpVsF4W8V2Y