Our friends in ruts

We have all known people struggling in the midst of damaged and dying relationships. They may have spouses in emotional or physical affairs. Siblings who are destroying themselves with drugs or alcohol. Parents who are never, ever satisfied. Friends who take and take, without any thought to the emotional costs they impose.

We get frustrated with them, these friends in their ruts. We get tired of the broken-record conversations, the monologues that we could speak for them and save them the trouble of repeating, the litany of their hurts and the wrongs they've suffered and the things about the person hurting them that if only he would change. It can be maddening, to the point that we feel like we'll go crazy if we have to hear it again. And they seem crazy, these friends who come to us with their same sad stories, their relationships stubbornly resistant to being fixed, despite the best prayers and amateur counseling our churches throw at them.

And so at some point we tell them to let it go: "You can't change your mother, so work on yourself." Or, "Stop thinking about what your husband is doing when he travels." We dress it up with a little Scripture: "Take every thought captive to Christ."

And the thing is, this is right. We should take every thought captive to Christ. We should indeed pray without ceasing. When your spouse is cheating on you and you haven't the wherewithal to leave, or your sister is drinking herself into the grave, or your father is treating your mother like a dog, and all your words have no effect beyond making it worse, you really must dwell every minute with Christ.

It is so very, very easy to type those words. So very easy to say them to another. But perhaps we might have more empathy, those of us who grow frustrated with our broken friends who won't be fixed. The phrase "Let go and let God" isn't in the Bible, for the simple reason that it is ridiculous and wrongheaded. There is no letting go of your one flesh, of your blood kin, of your close friend.

And letting go isn't what Scripture counsels. It's what Buddhists counsel. Scripture demands effort. Take every thought captive to Christ. Those of us who have been plagued by great emotional suffering know how very hard this is. Our own sin-distorted thinking within and the devil without hurl attacks at our minds. When we are spiritually weak, or ill-educated in spiritual discipline (though I guess these are the same thing, in the end), we entertain this wrong thinking, these tempting visions and scenarios. We torment ourselves with them, engaging with the devil in his own work.

And so the Lord tells us instead to bring our thoughts to Him. See with His eyes. Understand with His loving heart. It is essential, and He is our defense, but let's make no mistake, this is hard work. How indeed can we accomplish it? Pray without ceasing, to start. This too is work, isn't it, especially when we are maturing in our faith?

But how else can we survive? There is no other way. This world and the people in it---perhaps especially the people we love---will wound us. They will take from us. They will wrong us. There is no path toward heaven to be found outside forgiveness, and there is no way to forgive the people who break our hearts unless we bring ourselves to Christ daily, hourly, sometimes minute-to-minute.

Which is work. We are right to counsel our perpetually wounded friends that their minds should not be on changing those who hurt them but on drawing close to God. But we should remember how blessed we are, to be in the position of giving that advice rather than hearing it. And perhaps ask ourselves if we are, in turn, so very good at letting go of life's grievances ourselves.