On Counseling, Gifts of Mercy, and the Fight for Joy

A counselor possessing the gift of mercy would be a good thing, right? There are, however, real problems that attend to mercy-related gifts.

 

In the early years of being a professional counselor, I would encounter a client who would come to tears. I’m so empathetic, I would naturally and easily follow them with tears of my own. I thought this was a strength of mine, with the justification being Scriptures command to, “weep with those who weep.”

 

That was correct. Sometimes. But there were also times when a client would cry and then, with the passage of time, I would discover that the client was shedding tears only because he got caught, or only because she was losing her case. Meaning, a circumstance has arisen that compelled a person to make a life change, but there was no intent in the person to make that change. That pain point would then evoke some tears. Only after some time did I realize there are different kinds of tears.

 

This turned out to be an illustration of Paul’s distinction between a person experiencing “worldly sorrow” rather than “godly sorrow” (2 Corinthians 7:10). The classic biblical example of this is Esau’s weeping at the realization that he could not have it both ways with God (see Hebrews 12:12-17).

 

There are times now when I find myself withholding tears. It feels cold-hearted. But I know that on occasion I have to wait to cry because I also know it takes time for a person’s heart to be fully revealed.

 

Along the same lines, another weakness I spot in those with the gift of mercy is that empathy clouds discernment. Strong empathy can so identify with, feel so keenly with the other, that the counselor’s ability to see through a case gets compromised by the swirl of emotions. (This insight is an article all to itself—for another day.) Gifts of mercy attune to giving grace to others (and underdeveloped will come off as lenient, permissive, indulgent, short-sighted), whereas gifts of justice attune to giving truth to others.

 

Yet another problem with gifts related to mercy has to do with attitude, or internal worldview, of the giver. For me, one of the challenges of being a person of mercy is my inclination to feel the brokenness of all things, to take on other people’s burdens when I see them being crushed, and then eventually become overwhelmed with it all.

 

Some people must innately know this because not a week goes by where I don’t have a client who will ask me at the end of a session, “How do you do this all day? I can’t imagine hearing these sad stories all the time.”

 

And then I’ll give them some version of this abbreviated story:

 

In Romans 12, Paul lists out a series of gifts and how those gifts should be practiced and implemented. When he gets to the last gift on the list, mercy, Paul says that the one who shows mercy should do it with “cheerfulness” (Rom. 12:8, ESV). I cannot begin to tell you how much mileage I’ve gotten out of that insight for the last twenty years.

 

For all the moral weight a counselor carries, for all the complexities and nuances that are presented on any given day, for all the negative emotions a mercy-gifted person sees and experiences, there must be something to positively anchor the counselor. If not, the work of counseling will slowly grind you back into the dust faster than your own mortality.

 

So what is this positivity that has to do with cheerfulness? Let’s call it Joy.

 

One author writes that, “Joy is a deep-seated sense of well-being, often arising in mirth.” That helps me locate something more substantial than one’s circumstances or emotional state. How do we come to obtain this deep-seated sense of well-being, often arising in mirth?

 

The first real mention of joy in the Bible comes in Leviticus and has to do with sacrifices. “Fire blazed forth from the Lord’s presence and consumed the burnt offering and the fat on the altar. When the people saw this, they shouted with joy and fell face down on the ground” (Leviticus 9:24).

 

Why did all the people shout with joy at the consumption of their sacrifice? The explanation comes a few verses earlier in the chapter. “Then Moses said to Aaron, ‘Come to the altar and sacrifice your sin offering and your burnt offering to purify yourself and the people. Then present the offerings of the people to purify them, making them right with the Lord, just as he has commanded’” (9:7).

 

The sacrifice made the people “right with the Lord.” And there, friend and fellow counselor, is what gives and anchors the mercy-gifted person with joy even in the midst of witnessing all kinds of pain and sorrow. There is no greater joy than to know one is right with their Creator.

 

The Bible elsewhere calls this sacrifice the Gospel—the once-for-all payment of Jesus and his life-blood that bridges the great divide between our sorrows and the Savior who’s joy it is to eventually redeem all that is broken and wrong in this world.

 

Like Sam helping Frodo climb Mount Doom with epic music playing in the background in The Return of the King, so those Christian caregivers with gifts of mercy need to hear the music of the Gospel playing in the background of their daily work. To sustain. To encourage. To lift up. To be well internally, sometimes resulting in mirth when the sun intermittently breaks through.

 

Finally, remember the very prefix of “Re” in the word “Rejoice” means we have to do this over and over again. Daily. It’s the fight for joy. Joy in Christ who makes you eternally right with God. Engage it. For yourself. For all those you love and hold dear. And for those whom the Lord entrusts to your care.

 

Because the joy of the Lord is our strength (Nehemiah 8:10),