Cec Murphey

“Why Won’t You Help Me?”

“What should I do? For at least twenty minutes my friend explained his problems. Marc’s voice broke once and we sat in silence while he dried his tears. “But what should I do?” he asked.

I didn’t answer him the first time, the second time, or even the third time he asked. He poured out his dilemma over his job situation and his lack of inner peace. “I can’t sleep. Nothing feels right to me and I don’t know what to do.”

I said nothing.

“Why won’t you help me? In frustration, he yelled, “Why won’t you tell me what to do?”

I shook my head. “You know what to do.”

“I have no idea!” Anger flashed in his brown eyes before he said, “I came to you for help!”

“My role isn’t to give you answers. You need to ask God to help you listen to what’s going on inside you.”

“So now you give me psychobabble and religious talk—”

“That’s not my intent.” I leaned over and placed my hands on his shoulders. “As your friend, my role isn’t to solve your problems. My role is to love you while you solve your problems.”

“I thought you could give me an answer.”

“I just gave it to you. And until you make your own decision, I’ll pray for you to listen to God’s soft, quiet voice.” I smiled before I added, “God rarely shouts the answers.”

Before he left, Marc gave me a perfunctory hug that let me know he wasn’t any better.

Three nights later, Marc called. “Down deep, I knew the answer but I didn’t want to accept it. My other friends told me what I wanted to hear, but I knew they weren’t right.”

He made the correct decision on his own.

“Thanks for not telling me what to do.”

My role is not to solve others’ problems;
my role is to love them while they solve their problems.

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