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The following is a reposting of a piece by Mac Speights. I have included some of his work on my blog in the past. While I don’t come from the same religious orientation he does, I love Mac’s messages and find them helpful for a lot of people. 

Too many of us, when we are experiencing pain and personal torments, pull in and do not think that anyone can understand or can help us in our struggles.  Sometimes we feel ashamed and that sharing our problems will diminish us in the eyes of others and we can’t get past that. We are afraid or else we fear that talking about what is happening will somehow make it worse.   It takes courage to bare our souls and to seek solace and help. I also believe many of us beat ourselves up far too much over our mistakes and wrongdoings. Sometimes our mistakes are real and have hurt others and sometimes we distort them to a large degree and they are not as serious as we feel them to be. 

The point is, there is help and support out there and there are salves to soothe us and help us heal.  The help may come in a spiritual form, in a human form, (still through a spiritual source if we believe that) through medical or other types of professional help, or through a combination. Suffering in slience and alone helps nobody.  The source of our pain, whether physical, emotional or spiritual will worsen and spread until it festers, in most cases.  We are not on this journey all alone, no matter how it may feel at times.

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The Speights of Life is an original periodic email by Mac Speights.  Feel free to pass it along to your friends or put it online in any way you wish, but please include this invitation:

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.  Put your request in the subject line.  Variety is The Speights of Life!  

There’s a link to former pieces of the The Speights of Life and more at  www.thespeightsoflife.com    

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The Speights of Life # 161

 The Balm

At the time my heterosexual marriage was falling apart, my wife and I had this stupendous argument. Of course it was just before I had to head out to church to lead the morning service! Nothing like going into the sanctuary steaming mad…and having to pretend that everything was hunky-dory. (After hearing from a counselor that a male clergyperson is a father figure and that parishioners see you that way no matter what, I felt that showing my feelings was not the thing to do. I was wrong.)

 Twenty or so parishioners wandered in and sat in their usual pews for the early service. I think: “Maybe I’ll be able to make it through.”

 A few minutes into the service, my angry feelings overtook my fake feelings. (‘Fess up, I know this has happened to you in various situations, too!) I broke down and said something like “I can’t go on like this.” I sighed deeply, and then, looking out at the congregation, said “Sometimes it’s too difficult.”

But members of the congregation knew what was going on in my relationship. I didn’t think they did, but again, I was wrong. Within seconds, a woman stood up and said, “Let’s all turn to Hymn Number 205 and sing.”

 The hymn was “There Is A Balm in Gilead,” a traditional African-American song, based in scripture and about spiritual medicine that is able to heal, as well as an aromatic ointment popular at that time…an anointing that led to soothing, mellowing, and comforting. Those gathered on a day when my human need showed through sang with me the words:

          There is a balm in Gilead, to make the wounded whole;

          There is a balm in Gilead, to heal the sin-sick soul.

          Sometimes I feel discouraged, and think my work’s in vain,

          But then the Holy Spirit, revives my soul again.

 I felt the power of people gathered together to strengthen each other along life’s journey. I felt as if I weren’t alone in this or any other struggle. I felt comforted. I felt a bit of balm, a healing in the context of a larger time of pain.  

(I know some of you reading this have widely divergent opinions about the church and religion, but this is how I felt in that instant, being who I was at that moment in time.)

In reflecting on all of this, the one question that comes to my mind is

“How do some people know just what to do and say at any given moment?” From whence comes the balm? Are they wise beyond their years? Are they wounded healers? Do the older sheep know the pasture and roads better?

At any rate, I am in awe of the times when someone has done something or said something that helped me or someone else along our journeys, often just at the right moment! Like the little kid who, sensing a woman’s anguishing medical condition, sidled up to her in a church pew and took her hand in his. Or the woman who had just the right words to say while holding hands with relatives in a circle around a dying man. The balm can happen in a look, a smile, a nod, a touch, a word, a loving silence.

 But from where does the ability to do this come? What spirit do people have that revives the soul in any particular instant? We call this Source by many names.  And I suspect that, rather than trying to figure out the mysteries of where it comes from, we do best to recognize it, both within and outside religious institutions, and celebrate it in that moment when it brings us such comfort and joy.