Many years ago I was really into jogging. I ran everywhere but my favorite place was a trail around Stone Mountain Park. Back then few knew about the trail and I could jog along in relative peace, quiet and solitude. One afternoon I was half way through a five mile run, enjoying the cool spring weather, blue sky, sun sparkling on a nearby lake, and freshly green trees. I was so caught up in this most perfect day that I failed to see a grayish brown rock partly buried in the dirt. I remember looking at some Canada geese on the lake when my foot came down on the uneven surface.
My ankle turned immediately, sending a shock of pain as I crashed to the ground. After laying there for a while, I took my shoe off to check my throbbing ankle. I discovered it wasn’t exactly where it was supposed to be and had to use my sock as a sort of tourniquet to bring it roughly in line with the rest of my leg. Then finally gathering what strength I had left, I limped down the trail and hopped up an forty foot embankment to a road. There I had three encounters that taught me a lot about encouragement.
The first was with two other joggers. Despite my obvious injury and growing difficulty in walking, they never said a word and did nothing. So involved in themselves, they saw my plight but just continued on. The second was a group of three friends out for an afternoon stroll. When they noticed me, they knew instantly something was wrong. So they asked, Are you OK? Is there something we can do? I smiled and foolishly said, No. They stayed for a short time and talked about the nice weather, then continued on.
But my condition grew worse. The pain was increasing and my limp became more severe. Then I saw a man jogging toward me. I could tell when he first saw me, because he suddenly began to run faster. On reaching me, he made me sit down. No questions. No polite conversation. He just grabbed my arm and helped me down, then gave me one instruction, Stay here and I’ll come back with my car. And he did.
I later discovered I had torn the ligaments around my ankle. After weeks on crutches and hobbling around with a cane, it still took months before I could walk normally or even begin to think about jogging again. But two things came out of that experience. One is that those ligaments are forever weak and stretched, which means I turn that ankle often but don’t feel much in the way of pain. So if you’re ever walking in the forest and hear someone stumbling down the trail, that’s probably me.
Second, and more important, I realized that people respond differently when it is time for helping and encouraging. Some act as though nothing has happened. Maybe they really don’t care or don’t want to be bothered, or perhaps they don’t believe they can do anything. Others insist on being asked before they will become involved. We’ve all done it at times. Call me if you need any help. We put the burden on the one who’s hurting. And then there are those who desperately need the help but for some reason can’t find the words to ask for it. Pride and arrogance? Maybe. Or maybe they’re uncomfortable with asking for help because they’ve come to believe that God only helps those who help themselves.
And yet, there are those few who are willing to be involved in the life of someone else, even temporarily. They don’t hesitate. They see someone hurting and do the best they can. They care. They act. They are encouragers. And I believe many others would join them if they knew how to do the same. What a wonderful world it would be if we asked how to encourage and then did so without having to be asked.
Let us encourage one another – and all the more as you see the Day approaching. Hebrews 10:25b
Take care and be God’s,
Chuck Graham