Loving from Your Core, Even When It Hurts
By Jessica Brodie
As I write this, it’s officially been one year since my daughter had a major mental health breakdown that changed our lives forever. I’m not going to get into all the details of what she went through. That is her story to tell, though I share some of it with her full permission.
Still, I’ll say the last year has been extraordinarily challenging, not only for her but for me and for our entire family. Almost everything has had to change. As a mother I know part of my role is to be a caregiver, but that role expanded in so many different ways this year.
One of the worst things about mental illness sometimes is that it’s all invisible. Typically there’s no test you can text take that definitively says, “Yes, your bloodwork or your x-rays or your biopsy shows you definitively have this issue.” And there’s a stigma, too, even though I’m so grateful about the openness we share in our family. But the stigma still exists. Think about it: Most people who are walking through or have survived a major mental health issue don’t put on a T-shirt that identifies themselves as a survivor. We have a tendency to be private about what goes on with our emotional wellbeing.
While being a caregiver is a blessing, it’s extraordinarily hard sometimes, and I’ve had to grow and stretch in ways I didn’t think were possible. Of course, on the day she was born I felt that way too. In my heart of hearts, I worried that deep down I didn’t have enough capacity to love her as much as I did her older brother. I’d fallen in love with him that day he was born, and it was like the sky had opened. Yet two years later, I experienced the exact same thing with her. I did have enough in me to love them both completely, differently, and without measure.
And this year my heart and my mind and my capabilities have stretched again. It’s a beautiful thing to truly understand what we human beings are capable of. God equips us with a core and a strength that is astonishing, and in Him it’s even stronger.
Right now I’m reading the Gospel of Luke. There’s a part where Jesus is teaching and a Pharisee invites him to share a meal with him, and Jesus agrees. But the Pharisee is incredulous that Jesus doesn’t wash his hands before the meal, a ritual purification in their eyes.
“The Lord said to him, ‘Now, you Pharisees clean the outside of the cup and platter, but your insides are stuffed with greed and wickedness. Foolish people! Didn’t the one who made the outside also make the inside? Therefore, give to those in need from the core of who you are and you will be clean all over’” (Luke 11:39-41 CEB).
What Jesus is saying is that it isn’t soap and water that makes one “clean” and righteous. It’s giving from the heart, from “the core.” It’s giving so generously that it hurts and stretches you. It’s not giving from the side reserve, that saddlebag full of unessentials that you can easily shrug off—it’s a giving that impacts your soul.
And this is not just in special circumstances, like when someone you love gets cancer or walks through a mental health breakdown. This is how we’re supposed to give daily. We’re to love from our core. We’re to love until it hurts and keep going, until we’re utterly exhausted or out of food or money or other resources. To put it another way: we’re to love others as we love ourselves (Matthew 22:39).
I was reminded of this one day when I was out and had no cash except a five-dollar bill in my pocket, and I encountered someone in need. I wanted to help him, but helping him meant giving him my last five dollars. Still the urge was overwhelming… and that day I listened to the nudge within my soul and found myself handing over my last bit of cash to him. It’s an uncomfortable lesson, but guess what? Even more uncomfortable are the many times I haven’t listened to that nudge, when I’ve told that person in need, “I’m sorry but I don’t have any cash,” knowing I needed that last dollar for the toll or a soda or something. I didn’t trust that God would provide. I let fear dictate, fear that He wouldn’t come through, fear that it was entirely my responsibility to control my circumstances and that I had to be the one to provide.
That’s what we learn deep down when we walk through something that is beyond what we believe to be our capabilities: we’re not alone.
We must give from our core, give until we’re empty. For God equips us, God provides, and God gives us the strength to do what can seem impossible. We can empty our cup knowing we don’t have to be afraid, for God fills it right back up to the brim once more.
If you are in a time in your life when you feel like you’re maxed out, I urge you to reflect on this and consider your heart. Perhaps you feel that twinge of doubt that God will take care of things. Maybe your stocks have plummeted, or you just lost your job or you got a horrible health diagnosis. Maybe you lost a spouse or another loved one to death or divorce or conflict, and you don’t know how you’ll find the strength to keep going.
As someone who has walked and is still walking in that valley, know that you are never walking alone. Go ahead and give until it hurts—God will replenish you.
Feel free to email me and share or comment below. I’d love to know how you are or have experienced that.
