Yes. It hurts. It’s haunting. It sticks to me like a thorn in the flesh. It stays with me perhaps longer than it should. A colleague in another profession feels it too. It spreads to our staff. It causes us to appear sometimes down and despondent. Tiredness settles in. Melancholy is tapping us on the shoulder. It creates anguish and despair. It distracts. It’s relentless, chronic, and persistent. There is no cure.

I was at an event only a few days ago and came away from that time saying, “I am sick of hearing the laments.” Yet, here I am offering my own lament to the myriads of people who cry out. I so much want to be in a different place. But here I am. Here I stand. Here I live.

The “here” is church-world. The “it” referred to above is the constant requests and interactions with people who are in deep need and one footstep away from being homeless. They are hungry and alone. They have worn out many people by their constant pleas. They have learned to survive in whatever way they can. Some have mental, physical, and emotional problems. They aren’t able, for many reasons, to access the services and support that they need. Support agencies are unable to keep up. The church is unable to respond to all the requests.

The “it” is that sinking feeling when I have to say, “I’m sorry but at this time we are unable to help.” I think – what if I was the one reaching out, asking, hoping, and desperate? Yes, it hurts. And yes, there are other “its” – the pain of the world that surrounds us. Everything from personal crises to international and global tragedies.

I pause and gather my wits around me. I muster what spiritual strength I can. I breathe. My attention is caught by the upcoming weekend – Thanksgiving. To Thanksgiving I run. I embrace it like a young child embracing his mother after having been lost. I cry. I suddenly feel both empty and full. I feel comforted and sorrowful all at the same time. My heart pounds, and each pulse is felt throughout my body. The words come to mind – “This is my body broken for you.”

The Church is the broken body of Christ in the world. We are not whole. We limp along as best we can and take one step at a time. We do what we can to support our brothers and sisters – the hungry, the sick, the poor, the naked, the homeless, and the despairing for in them is the face of Christ.

I, we, the church can’t do everything. However, we are able to help and support many and for that I give thanks. And for the knowledge that we are capable of so much more, I give thanks. And for each time that a little more is given and care extended and love offered, I give thanks. And for every expression of kindness and compassion, I give thanks. For people of good will, I give thanks. That recently we helped a young mother with two children find housing, I give thanks. That we comfort those who mourn, I give thanks.

In all things, give thanks! In all things, give!