One day about four years ago, I was in the middle of teaching a riveting lesson about the poetry of World War II when I realized that I didn’t feel very well at all. After class I walked down to my friend Anne’s office and stretched out on her sofa, and after about five minutes I identified several immediate challenges: (1) convincing my head to stop it with the pounding, (2) managing what had become a raging-hot fever, and (3) conducting the rest of the day’s business from Anne’s couch—because there was no way I could stand at the front of my classroom and teach.
Somehow, though, I went to my next class, and I tried to teach despite the fact that I felt like hot death. About an hour later I went back to Anne’s office, and after she took one look at me, she insisted that I go home. I protested. She insisted again. About twenty minutes later I finally took her advice. After I got home, crawled into bed, and managed to halfway pull up the covers, I fell into a fitful, feverish sleep. When I woke up a couple of hours later, I was so achy that even my fingers hurt. I was so overwhelmed by my discomfort that I actually cried, and I remember being so relieved that I hadn’t tried to finish out the school day.
Fortunately, all I was dealing with was a nasty virus that ran its course within about 72 hours. But as I recovered, I kept thinking about my friend Anne and how she could clearly see that something was wrong with me. She wouldn’t let me pretend like everything was okay and go about the day’s normal business. In the kindest way, she made herself the (very loving) boss of me and sent me home, which was exactly where I needed to be.
And here’s my takeaway from that little anecdote: when we’re sick or hurting or maybe even so deep in a mess that we can’t see our way out, we desperately need trustworthy family members or friends to come alongside us and care for us. Because when we’re stubborn about doing things our way, or confused about how to move forward, or maybe even so blind to our current condition that we’re not seeing things clearly, we need wise and godly people to lovingly counsel us and point us in the direction of the next right thing to do. As much as we might think that we know what’s best, the fact of the matter is that sometimes we don’t have the foggiest idea how to handle the issue at hand.
There’s no question that it’s good to know how to take care of ourselves, to learn to make wise decisions, to be able to confidently handle conflict. Those are great life skills. Even still, there will always be times when, for whatever reason, we just don’t make the right choice. We stay with a certain guy even though he leads us away from God. Or we follow a certain friend when she convinces us to go on that make-you-faint diet. We can’t discern that something (or someone) has a hold on us, and we can’t recognize that we could very well be on the verge of big trouble.
As believers, we’re not immune to blind spots.
That’s why it’s oh-so-important to pay attention to wise people who see what we can’t.
1. When was the last time you let someone step in and help you with a decision?
2. Does it make you feel loved when others try to help you? Or do you tend to resist any sort of assistance?
3. Do you have any blind spots when it comes to taking care of yourself? (For example, I am not the best at making or taking time to really rest.) Who looks out for you when you’re battling a blind spot?
4. Write out Proverbs 11:14.
Today’s Prayer