Counseling Someone With a Disability
Hi, I’m Joni Eareckson Tada with a word about effective counseling.
You know as Christians, it’s natural to want to help people who are hurting. So, what do you do, what do you say to someone — someone like me when I broke my neck? Believe me the thought of spending the rest of my life in a wheelchair was absolutely devastating. Once the get-well cards stopped coming and everyone went back to their routines, depression settled in. There were nights when I would wrench my head back and forth on the pillow, hoping that I would break my neck at some higher level and finally put an end to my life. Now, well over fifty years later, I look back at those dismal times and wonder, ‘How did I make it?’ One thing is for sure, I had Christian friends rallying around me, praying for me and encouraging me in meaningful and practical ways.
Friends like Diana. I remember when I wasn’t in physical therapy, I’d often head for the solarium, and ask the rehab aid to close the blinds and there, in the dark, I’d listen to Beatles albums all afternoon and I’d sorrowfully sing: “Blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly, all your life arise.” One day, Diana stopped by to pay me a visit. She joined me in the solarium and after hearing me sing the same song, she said, “Joni, don’t you know any happy songs? I’m getting tired of always hearing you sing about stupid, depressing things!” Ouch. Man, did that one stung because I liked Diana. She was the friend who had refused to bring in her father’s razors or her mother’s sleeping pills when I begged her to put me out of misery. She had stuck by my side in the hospital, and her rebuke hurt. I felt embarrassed. Deep down I knew she was right, I needed a new song.
And that song came a short time later, when at night, another friend there when I was in rehab, Jackie, snuck into my 6-bed ward. While nurses were on break and my roommates were asleep, Jackie climbed up onto my mattress in the dark, snuggled up close, held my hand, and softly sang:
Man of Sorrows what a name,
For the Son of God who came,
Ruined sinners to reclaim:
Hallelujah, what a Savior!*
That moment, something changed. Someone had reached out and found me. Oh friend, the name of Jesus reaches where no medication can reach, where no doctor, no surgery, no rehab technic can heal.
And when it comes to counseling people, especially people like me with disabilities, prayer and relationships that are built on trust and respect are so important. Disability can be off-putting; people assume (and rightly so) that it may require too much of them. And so, they remain at an arms-length, not really wanting to get involved. But the culture of disability it is so very hands-on. It requires more than just declaring the Good News. You have to demonstrate the Good News. Like Diana, sitting with me in a dark room, listening to me sing away my sorrows; or Jackie, visiting me in the wee hours just to be near, reminding me that I was not alone. So, if you have a friend who is disabled, invest in that relationship. Keep them connected to reality, keep them away from social isolation, talk them through their anger or disappointment, demonstrate compassion, and ascribe a positive meaning to their pain. As a follower of Christ, you have the message of hope and change. So, don’t just tell it to your hurting friend; show it; demonstrate it — tell and show and demonstrate Jesus. Even you can reach deep into a hurting heart through Christ.
* Music: “Man of Sorrows” written by P. P. Bliss; Public Domain.
© Joni and Friends
