How are you on the inside?

Inspiration for writing or speaking often rises from unlikely places.

I expect to find inspiration from the Bible, but I’ve also been ambushed by themes or issues raised by unsuspecting people, experiences or things.

I am reluctant to admit it, but motives for writing or speaking are not always pure.

In fact, one of the more potent weapons in my arsenal is being able to say to those around me, “You better behave or I’ll feature you in a sermon.”

Occasionally, a prompt for a column appears from a source I never would have guessed. This is one of those occasions.

Several summers ago, my son had shoulder surgery, which resulted in his arm being immobilized in a sling.

It was his response to my rather predictable question of, “How long do you have to wear the sling?” that gave rise to these thoughts.

He said, “It needs to stay on approximately four weeks in private, and a bit longer than that in public.”

That required some thought on my part.

He patiently explained the rationale. The sling is worn in public even once it is no longer needed so that people will notice you are injured and not give you a strong hug or pound you affectionately on the shoulder.

It serves the same purpose as the yellow hockey jersey worn by players in practice during periods of rehab.

I could not escape the implications of the concept.

How many people cross my path every day who are hurting badly on the inside?

If all those with wounds were to wear slings or yellow jerseys, what would Kelowna look like?

Would we treat each other differently if inner hurts were more visible?

We have created a culture where displaying pain is not considered appropriate.

I’m not talking about opening the door to whining, but rather to a heightened level of honesty.

Many of us have learned the fine art of pretending our lives are in much better condition than reality supports.

We have become masters of that delightfully deceitful phrase, “I’m fine,” even when we’re broken.

That pretence not only robs us of necessary empathy, but our stoicism also serves to encourage those around us to cover up their hurts as well.

The result is that almost everyone winds up pretending to be fine in public and suffering alone in private.

The scenario has caused me to wonder, “What is the emotional equivalent of my son’s sling?”

How can we heighten levels of emotional honesty without inflicting our inner pain on everyone who politely asks, “How are you?”

I am attempting to answer the challenge of St. Paul that each of us has burdens we are designed to carry, while simultaneously aware that each of us also has some burdens we need each other’s assistance with.

Clearly, his challenge requires that we establish relationship with a select few that is deep, intimate, open and honest.

These are the folks who will be aware of our wounds and will be part of the solution.

Emotional intelligence enables us to also maintain less rigorous relationships with others in our social orbit who have no need to become involved in our brokenness.

Writing this has caused me to survey my own relational world. It has also struck me that this is pretty deep thinking for something started by an arm in a sling. Tim Schroeder is a pastor at Trinity Baptist Church. TIM SCHROEDER