Disclosing Wisely When Going Through Difficult Circumstances

I recently finished reading a book by Dr. Nate Brooks entitled Disrupted Journey: Walking with Your Loved One Through Chronic Pain and Illness. The author carefully, gently, and with precision addresses several aspects of the struggle that is navigating chronic pain and illness. It is a book I would recommed to anyone who cares for people or who is walking through this particular hardship personally.

As Christians, one of the things we often (rightly) hear is that we are to resist being “Lone Ranger Christians.” We need others, and others in the body of Christ need us. Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep (Rom. 12:15). This implies a type of openness, transparency, and vulnerability. We can resist trying to appear as if we are tough and have it all together. These are all true and good things, and as people living in the Western Hemisphere, we need to hear them often, because our society usually pushes against these ideals in favor of an independent, “I-can-do-it-all-myself” attitude.

However, if not combined with discernment, I think these biblical principles can also unwittingly lead to Christians having a sense of guilt and confusion. They know they are to share their burdens with others and resist only generic “I’m fine” statements. But at the same time, the question that is hanging in the background is, “Is this always true? I don’t want to be proud, but I also have this nagging feeling that it’s not best to share my burdens indiscriminately in the church.”

To this point, Brooks offers a poignant metaphor to help us discern how to think about this subject and to whom we share what. It’s a lengthy metaphor, but well worth considering:

I’ve long considered the image of a medical research facility as a helpful metaphor for wisely sharing my heart with others. Imagine stepping into that secure facility. You enter through the rotating doors and are met by a receptionist. Everyone is allowed inside the lobby and met with a friendly greeting, but to go any farther you need a lab-issued electronic keycard. Certain visitors may be able to tour a handful of rooms, and junior researchers may be allowed to go still farther. But the deepest rooms in the building are accessible only by a few senior personnel whose experience qualifies them to handle sensitive equipment and specimens in such a way as to avoid catastrophe.

Everyone is able to access the lobby of our family’s life. Kate [the author’s wife] and I both freely talk about the fact that chronic pain and illness is part of our story. Someone needs to know about us in order to know us, and the effects of Kate’s chronic pain and illness are some of the defining elements of who we are.

While everyone’s allowed in the lobby, the rooms beyond it are more carefully guarded. Even in this book I’ve been careful not to bring into focus the specifics of what exactly has gone wrong with Kate’s physiology. Some people know, but it’s not for public consumption.

There are others in our life who are not privy to the inner workings of our hearts. When I’m asked “How are you doing?” there are plenty of times that I’ll say, “Doing good,” even when in these moments I’m really imploding. Why? Because that person has lobby clearance, not epidemiology lab clearance.

What are implications of this analogy? I’ll make one suggestion for the individual going through a hardship and one suggestion for the individual who wants to support their hurting friend. First, the one who is experiencing some form of suffering need not feel guilty for guarding how much they say to certain people. The reality is that there are different levels of friends (inner circle, middle circle, and outer circle).

Second, while it is admirable to check in on someone you know who is going through a hardship, I’ve witnessed this being done in some rather awkward ways. One way sounds extremely rushed: “How are you doing? Good? Great! See ya!” This can leave strugglers feeling unheard and more hurt than before. Another way goes from feeling rushed to the opposite extreme of feeling weird: “How are you doing really?” (Imagine this said with an intent stare that could bore a hole through one’s soul and won’t accept anything short of a life story being shared.) Now don’t get me wrong – if the friend you’re talking to is part of your inner circle, this may be acceptable. After all, in that scenario, you know your friend well enough to know if they need some gentle prodding. But otherwise, be content with asking how your friend is doing and asking if there’s anything you can pray for. This allows your friend the freedom to offer a response that they feel comfortable giving.

Brooks’s analogy is a good one. It rings true both with intuition and with the lived experiences of people who have been in this kind of situation. We want to be the kind of people who share our burdens, yes, but this does not mean sharing indiscriminately. Some people have earned the right (e.g., they are close, inner circle friends, or they have demonstrated they can handle our words, questions, and emotions), while others have not. And that is no slight to this latter group. Rather, it’s reflective of realities that God has built into our existence.