Being a wounded healer

" *... if anyone asks them, 'What are these wounds on your chest?' the answer will be, 'The wounds I received in the house of my friends.'"

-- Zechariah 13:6

Late last month, the co-commander of the local Salvation Army, Capt. Ronnie Amick, spoke at the annual meeting and luncheon of the United Way/Southeast Missouri. This red-haired young man, relatively new to the community, gave a spirited and compelling recitation of the Good Samaritan story for all in attendance. In my mind, that story ranks equally with the Prodigal Son account as the most important parables Jesus ever told. Both stories show us what God is like. You can always go home to a God who desperately wants relationship with humanity (Prodigal Son) and God desires human beings who care for one another despite our many differences (Good Samaritan).

Amick used the phrase, "Befriend the wounded." Those words imprinted like a laser in my thoughts and called to mind the Old Testament text that is found in this column's epigram.

Who are the wounded? I'd ask a different question: Who isn't wounded? Frequently the observation has left my lips that it would be helpful if people would wear sashes, as pageant winners do, across their chests at all times, telling all who see them how they've been hurt, by whom, and how long ago. If we could see a history of hurt, of pain, it would keep us from rubbing salt in that wound.

"Jeff, how's your dad?" "Well, Dad's dead." "Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't know!"

Of course, he didn't know. In so many encounters we have with others, we have little idea if what we say is going to hurt.

Zechariah, the minor O.T. prophet, ramps up this notion of hurt by pointing out that we sometimes suffer wounds from the most unexpected sources. From friends. Wounds of the emotional variety hurt more deeply and last longer when friends wield the weapon. We let our guard down with friends. We tell ourselves we must be on our toes with adversaries, ever watchful, but friends? Friends can be trusted with confidences. If you believe that last sentence, you have not lived very long.

We can guard against being hurt by friends through simply staying mute. By keeping our mouths shut. By taking our petitions to God in prayer and by not burdening the friend. I realize what I suggest flies in the face of our confessional culture, which originally manifested itself in Oprah and continues through the continuous use of social media. The personal matters that people are willing to reveal on Facebook are truly stunning. The ability of friends to take your picture, or record your voice and likeness, and post it to a social media site instantly where dozens if not hundreds of others can see and hear is a recipe for immense hurt. I've been on the giving and receiving end of that kind of wound. Teenagers have taken their own lives after friends posted something personal on Facebook.

There are exceptions, of course, to what the British might call the "stiff upper lip." Revelations to a spouse, to a spiritual director, to a prayer partner are understandable. When we are too open about our pain and we ask friends to keep that knowledge to themselves, quite often the friend forgets the pledge. Or more accurately, probably, the friend no longer remembers what it is that was confidential. This is the source of a great deal friend-to-friend woundedness.

The good news is that being wounded makes us better able to spot it in others. We can befriend the wounded; we can become, in an iconic phrase from the late Henri Nouwen, a "wounded healer." All things do work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to His purpose. (Romans 8:28)

We can't stop all the wounds inflicted by friends but we can lower our own weapons. Put the phone down. Don't repeat what I said. Don't post my picture on social media. If we did just those things, we can make our own corner of the world less wounded.