Is There a Place for a Person Who's Really Hurting at Church on Sunday Morning?

Is there a place for a person who's really hurting at church on Sunday morning? 

For the last 24 hours or so, I have been hurting really badly. My back has been killing me. My ears have been throbbing. The one floater I still have in my left eye after surgery to remove them, which usually isn't apparent, has been, well, apparent. On top of all that, when I got home from a few wonderful days of a mini-vacation, there was mail that some of my doctors are no longer covered by my insurance. 

So, I'm having physical issues, and in the middle of it, I'm going to have to find new doctors. I'm still working on getting three different specialty meds I'm supposed to be using that I'm having problems obtaining. 

I'm tired. I'm hurting. And I'm at church where everything is upbeat and happy. with the joy of the Lord. This brings up a question that I've wondered about before, but never had this kind of in-my-face direct example of living it. 

I am hurting. I am crying. I feel horrible. And I can't share that with anybody here. In theory, I could. I know that the people here care. But they've all got their things to do. They're getting ready for being on the worship team or the tech team or preaching or greeting people. 

Maybe I'm really wrong - probably I'm really wrong - but I can't see them taking any time for me. And what good would it do anyway? I'm still going to be hurting. I'm still going to be in pain. And let's say they did surround me with prayer, with hugs, with love, they'll have to leave in time to be on stage or in their seats, because "the show must go on." (We livestream so our start time is timed to practically the second.)

I just realized why this is affecting me to this extreme... there's an incident that happened a couple weeks ago with a group of women who are trying to learn more about God, hear Him and see Him in  everything. In fact, I'm one of the leaders of the group.

It was really strange. I was doing well that day but started crying because of a sweet thing God showed me about a specific verse of scripture. Somehow, for some reason, even though it was happy crying, it turned into a panic attack.

I ran out and stood on the porch just trying to calm down I kept wondering if somebody would follow me... would care... would help...

Finally the one who was facilitating the meeting did come out. I thought she was coming out to help but instead, she just told me I needed to get in my car until I calmed down.

This woman is amazing. She's one of my best friends and I know that she cares about me. I know that she loves me. I know she'd do just about anything for me. 

But in that moment, all she could think about was that I needed to be somewhere where I was sitting down because I could faint and she didn't want the neighbors to see me hyperventilating on her porch. Plus, the noise that I was making, trying to breathe, would possibly bother the women who were still inside - I was interrupting what they were doing.

That hurt to my core. I haven't confronted her about it yet because i don't want to hurt her but to be in such a vulnerable position and to be basically said told, "You go fix it and then you can come back" is one of the main reasons I have this blog. Even people who care don't understand how their inaction, or sometimes their action, can hurt someone who deals with invisible illnesses.

I was taught growing up that you're not supposed to show strong emotion unless it's happiness. People can show all the emotion they want - for example, they can be super exuberant at a at a football game or a sporting event. 

But you can't go the other way. You can't be super sad unless there's a "real reason" (like a death of a family member or super bad news that someone you love has cancer or something similar).

It can't be just emotions. It can't be due to mental health issues or clinical depression. It can't involve invisible illnesses like back issues or a chronic ear infections. It can't be caused by exhaustion or worry. 

We're supposed to be "more than conquerors." We're supposed to trust God in all these things. We're supposed to be healed. 

But what the hell if you're not? What if you're not? What if you're trying so hard to do the right thing... reading the Bible again after years of shying away from it; trying to pray after years of secretly wondering if it was worth the time; and becoming part of - and heavily involved in - a church and joining the leader's team in a Christian women's group? 

What if you're doing all this and it doesn't change a damn thing? 

How do you reconcile it? 

I don't know if anybody who reads this will have ever felt this way. My guess is you have. That you've gone to church, or for those that may not be Christians or people of faith, gone to a close friend or a family member, and been told that you need to just get over it - that you need to go in the car until you can calm down and be okay yourself. 

What we're supposed to do is help each other. What we're supposed to do is support each other. Not send people to be alone when they need others the most. 

Church is starting now and I have to decide if I'm going to try to go in and try my best to not be the basket case I currently am. There's a part of me that wants to show people how I feel and that someone can be real and that it's okay to come into church not okay.

Another part of me is so scared that no one will care or that people will care too much. I don't even know which one I would want to happen. I just want to not feel this way. And I'm concerned that there are others who feel this way - where church is the most lonely place they go to...

...and I don't know how to fix it. 

I don't even know how to ask for help for just myself. I'm hiding in the nursing mother's room. Thankfully nobody's needing it right now. But this is a place that's become my refuge at times I just have to get away. 

I can't hear the worship set starting. It's so amazing. I know everybody in there - well, maybe not everybody... there may be somebody else like me... actually, odds are there are more like me that don't want to praise, that have nothing in them to give to anybody, even to God.

But I feel like I need to be I need to be okay before I go in there.

Shouldn't church be a place where you could not be okay, when you need to go in even more because you're not okay? 

That makes no sense. Let me try again.

Should it be a place that somebody could go in crying and not be looked out upon? You can cry at the end of the service during the emotional prayer time. But you can't cry through the worship. 

If I go in there, I'm going to make people uncomfortable. If I go in there like this, that is. I don't want to bring them down. But I want to go in. It took everything in me to get up this morning and get ready to come and I'm here and I can't participate. I'm in a dark, tiny room all alone. Nothing against my husband, but he's on the stage with them. He knows how I'm feeling but he's not here. I think, if I asked him to, I think he would stay with me.

But I would feel the whole time like he's worrying about getting to the stage. And I'm guilty of the same thing. That's why I said I don't know how to fix it. I would care more about making sure I got to the stage than help somebody in need. 

But 

That's...

just...

wrong. 

It's wrong of me to do. It's wrong of others to do. Caring more about facilitating a meeting or a worship service or attending either than caring about one of the people there is just wrong.

But right now, it's about halfway through the worship set. I need to go now or completely give up.

So... I'm going to just go in there, hide, try to hide, but at least I can be there. 

One more thing real quick... I don't know the scripture reference, but I do want to add that the person who opened in our prayer meeting before church, the team meeting (which I don't even know why I go when I'm not technically on the team for that week). But I go anyway.

Well, I'm glad I did this time because there's one guy who always opens it with scripture and this morning he read the scripture about turning your sorrow into joy and make beauty from ashes. 

I wanted to know but I couldn't talk to him. It was all I could do not to cry even then. Instead, I asked my husband to ask him when he picked that verse. I didn't know if he saw me crying and he picked it from that. He already had picked it apparently. 

I needed that. But then there's also more pressure from hearing that verse. 

I guess my question is when will He do those things - turn my sorrow into joy and make beauty from ashes? 

And is it okay for me to be who I am right now until that time? 

...Okay, so I have an addendum to add after getting home. 

I did go on in the service. I just sat during the rest of the worship set. I just listened - and tried not to be too cynical about some of the words - about being victorious, about having victory, about being an overcomer and being healed. 

Because right now I'm none of those things. 

I tried to just... Be. And fight the tears because I did not want to lose it. I mean, tears were streaming down my face, but I wasn't at least bawling... or working towards a panic attack. 

Then the Connect Time came - the time when everybody is supposed to greet everybody else.

And I'm like, I already know there is no way I can shake somebody's hand, smile, and say good morning. None. What if a stranger came up to me and asked me how I was doing or the traditional southern "How are you?" where they don't want to know how you're doing - they are just saying hi.

But at that point, Would I lie and say, oh, I'm good and try to smile? What would I tell them? If I started telling them the real answer, it would be really awkward. 

So I ran out of the auditorium and hid. It was then that I realized a lot of others come out during Connect Time. I never noticed that. They go to the bathroom, get coffee, whatever. So I turned to the wall and just stood by the picnic table in the lobby. 

I kept thinking somebody might see me and think, "Why is this person just facing the wall?" But nobody did. 

That is, until the service was just about to start, or I think it may have just started back. 

The lobby was pretty much cleared out at this time. Everybody else had gone back in. 

Then one person came over and asked me (and I could tell she was sincere) - "Are you okay?"

I told her no, I'm not. 

And she didn't ask why. 

Until that moment I hadn't realized that's exactly what I needed. I didn't want to talk about all that was going wrong. I didn't want to try to put a spin on it on how I knew God would take care of me (though I was pretty sure it was true). 

She didn't want me to worry about going into it all which was a huge blessing. 

She simply asked, "Can I pray for you?" And I said yes. Then she said, which I love... She asked, "Do you want me to pray for you now, or do you want me to just go inside and pray for you?

I replied, "I don't know." I couldn't make a decision right then about Just about anything except trying not to hyperventilate. 

The she asked, "Well, can I give you a hug?" And I was like, YES! (inside anyway - I told her yes in a normal tone of voice). While she was hugging me, she went ahead and prayed for me. 

She cared. She saw me. 

And not to brag on myself, because dang. I'm not anything. But I was thinking how I need to start doing that more, and during the service. I saw a woman across the aisle who started crying about what was being said. 

I doubt it was like my situation where I was crying purely because selfish stuff, how I felt, which I guess is really not selfish. It's how I felt, how I was at the time. Anyway.... But I was thinking I wanted to talk to her as soon as the service of her and see if I could pray for her.

Then I realized, what the heck is keeping me from praying right now? Why am I not praying right now? I started praying for her during the service. 

But I also knew I needed to tell her. I know how important it was that that woman saw me... standing alone, facing the wall... and came up to me. She could have been praying for me without me ever knowing. But it meant so much more that she stopped and checked on me. 

So after the woman came out to the aisle, I told her, "I've been praying for you." She asked me why did you do that? And I said, well, I saw you crying, and I came in this morning crying and I don't know what's going on but I wanted to pray for you - that God would make himself known in whatever is going on. 

She was so thankful. And again, I'm not bragging on myself, but we need more of that in church. Last week our other pastor had a visual example that I'll probably never forget - how when he and his wife were going through a rough time, they had people that supported them. Then he had the people stand up that he knew would support him at any moment. 

And he said it wasn't just true for him as a pastor. He said that it would be true for anybody in this church. 

I agree. And I kind of believe that. If earlier I had grabbed one of the worship team to pray for me... I don't know. I don't know. I didn't want to find out. 

But most likely if I grabbed one of them right before they were supposed to go on stage and said, "I need you to pray for me. Can you pray for me?" they wouldn't have worried about going on stage. They would have stopped and prayed for me. At least I think they would - because I also know that the show must go on. 

All these people are there. There are people watching on YouTube. So I understand that aspect of it. I don't know how to reconcile these two things. But even a person who isn't going to be on stage... They may really want to get into the service when it starts. Our worship set is not that long and if I was the one who was being asked to pray for someone else, I would have wanted to be in there for that time.

We need to be looking for People that need help. "I" need to be looking. We ALL need to be looking. The problem with that it takes time to show someone you care. It takes time to see if somebody's okay. It takes time to see if somebody needs prayer. 

And we're all so busy. I'm one of the biggest ones guilty of that. We all have our stuff to do. The church should be the place where you can go in crying and somebody sees it. 

I can't help but think of the Brandon Heath song. Give me your eyes... so I can see. It's what the whole song talks about - seeing people that are in need or that are hurting or are homeless that we often just overlook either by accident or on purpose. Sometimes we do see but then we look away. 

But give me Your eyes, Jesus. Give me Your eyes so that we can see the person sitting at the well or just all the times Jesus stopped what he was doing to help somebody. He probably had places to go, people to see, things to do - like we do. But he would stop. Because the person was more important than those things. 

All this is just something I'm going to try my best to start doing more - really looking for people who need prayer or a hug or just a hi, hello - and praying that God will open my eyes even more.

I said earlier that I don't know the solution for this. 

But this is the solution. 

I meant to say earlier, the problem with what our pastor said last week is that if somebody asked for help, someone would be there for them. But what if they won't ask? What if it feels too uncomfortable to ask because of shame, embarrassment, low self-worth, social anxiety disorder, anything like that? 

What if the place that they're in actually means they can't ask. 

If somebody doesn't see it then they're going without help. They're going without support. They may know to go to God but sometimes we need the tangible. I know I needed that hug today - from somebody, from a stranger. Someone who noticed me. 

That made all the difference.