Caregiving with Compassion and Respect: Learning from Jesus

ELIZABETH TURNAGE|CONTRIBUTOR When my dad’s cancer spread to his bones, and he became at risk for falls, my brother and I acted quickly. Out of concern for his safety, we helped him move from the home where he had lived alone for the past twenty years into a comfortable assisted living facility. My dad often half-jokingly referred to the assisted living facility as “Shawshank,” after the prison in the movie “The Shawshank Redemption.” To an introvert who had lived alone since his divorce forty-five years before, being suddenly surrounded by so many people probably did feel like imprisonment. Caring with Compassion and Respect Our story with my dad reveals a common caregiver struggle. As caregivers, we seek the safety of our loved one, and in so doing, we sometimes ignore or minimize their desires. In our commitment to safety, we can also make the mistake of treating adults as if they were children, unable to make wise decisions for themselves. Even when dementia or disease prevents our loved ones from thinking clearly, we still must care for them with compassion and respect. To learn how to navigate this challenging terrain, we must remain centered in Christ’s compassion. Learning from Christ’s Compassion As he cared for people, Christ showed compassion by looking at and for people, by asking good questions and listening to the answers, and by gently pointing people to the hope they had in him...

Caregiving with Compassion and Respect: Learning from Jesus2023-08-15T13:35:11+00:00

Taking a Long, Hard Look at the Bookshelf

HOLLY MACKLE|CONTRIBUTOR Oh how I love to read all the things. When a friend asks me what my favorite book is I feel a tightening in my chest, sweaty palms, and the unmistakable tremor of panic. Did she just ask me which child I prefer?? I typically freeze. Sometimes it’s awkward. Sometimes, if I’m feeling kicky, I toss out a line to see if the asker will bite. “Solely memoirs of SNL cast members.” “Dark political satire.” “Cookbooks before bed.” Sometimes I’m a jerk and I utter the (let’s face it, totally arrogant) response, “I read pretty widely,” before shifting the question back to them, “What kind of book do you like?” (Obviously it’s far preferable to riff off something a friend is interested in and ask if they’ve read a similar title rather than be put before that specific firing squad.) So since you (did not, and thank you for not) ask, for this specific enCourage audience, I’ll say I love books that trace the perseverance of God’s faithful. I’ll weep alongside the real life Sheldon Vanauken, or feel my heart beating out of my chest every time Francine Rivers’ fictional Hadassah narrowly escapes. I’ll eye roll at just how much contemporary Christian thought is borrowing from Augustine’s Confessions, and yell at the prison guards in Darlene Diebler Rose’s Evidence Not Seen. Give me the thread of redemption any old day, and please oh please allow me to see God’s faithful holding the line, from one to the next, shoulder to shoulder, generation after generation. As I glance at my bookshelves, one sad reality comes to light: while God’s faithful are all throughout history, real or fictionalized, my “wide” reading of their stories lacks the full spectrum of his faithfulness at best, and is stunted and narrow at worst. There are gaping holes on my bookshelves that are not so in God’s authorship of redemptive history. One of those holes hovers right over a wicked period in our country’s past, in the history of African American slavery. As I looked into titles that fit the bookshelf gap, the work of author, biographer, and former slave herself, Octavia Albert, practically jumped off the page. Mrs. Albert was a believer, a teacher who viewed her profession as worship, and a curator of the voices and God-stories of others—that’s three checkmarks in the “someone I’d like to know” column...

Taking a Long, Hard Look at the Bookshelf2022-05-04T23:07:14+00:00

On Oneness, Lament, and Seeing with Compassion

A few years ago, the PCA Women’s Ministry hosted the One Conference in several cities around the country. I attended many of them, all but one in fact. My favorite moment was experiencing the beauty of a multi-ethnic choir at a Mississippi church singing “Heal Us Emmanuel.” It was a beautiful moment that I will never forget. The theme of the conference came from John 17:21, “that they all may be one.” Those words of oneness ring in my head now as brazen acts of violence in rapid succession exasperate racial tensions in our nation. In particular, I am deeply disturbed over the deaths of Ahmaud Arbery and George Floyd, two African American males senselessly slain in broad daylight. The haunting images of the evil portrayed against these men plague my thoughts and are on constant repeat in my mind, mocking my heart’s cry for oneness. I will confess to you that I am often tempted to look away as I honestly don’t know how much more I can witness and continue to move towards hope. The biggest lesson I am learning in this season is the power of lament as a vehicle to hope. Lament as Movement Towards Hope Following the murder of Ahmaud Arbery, I did what I have learned to do way too well – I compartmentalized. I conveniently tucked feelings away so that I could accomplish the task before me and complete the work day. When I finally made it home, I watched the video that was cycling through the news, and I was undone. I couldn’t sleep. I poured out an assortment of complex feelings before the Lord and just wept. Every time I thought about it, I wept. I realized that day that lament is costly and disruptive. It disrupted my plans and made space for emotions I didn’t care to feel. It ultimately pushed me to the throne of the only Help I know. That Help is our only hope; His name is Jesus...

On Oneness, Lament, and Seeing with Compassion2022-05-05T00:39:42+00:00
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