Let's have a conversation, you and I, and talk about our temptations. Let's be a sounding board for thoughts rarely expressed out loud - and yet, thoughts that are viscerally inspired by the most poignant moments of our existence. Sound good? I'll tell you what happens next: we quickly move to solve the problems and change the subject.

The sins that so easily entangle me are vexing, and seem to clutch with unyielding tentacles. The sins that entangle you - well, I can solve that problem. You need to love Jesus more. You need to read the Bible more, meditate on it more, pray more, submit more areas of your life to God. Get in an accountability group. Give me your problem, and I'll come up with an action step. I'll assign homework.

We'll often ignore the double standard there in practice, won't we? Because it's easy enough to equate someone else's trial with one of my own that actually resolved. Here, I can give you the Cliff's Notes on resolving that one, so you don't have to go through all the nonsense I did. Or we can dismiss temptations out of hand as things we're above experiencing. But that doesn't reach into the ways our trials are entwined with our stories, and it doesn't give justice to the created self we ought to be, damaged as it is in the fallenness of sin.

We have an urge to push to resolution of our pain and suffering, because we also have a notion that our pain and suffering is keeping us from the optimum experience we desire. It's not amplifying our perception of ourselves. It's draining our energy and keeping us from pursuing things that do make us feel worthy and valuable.

We can and do ruminate for hours about our own problems, trials, and tribulations - that's bad enough. But introducing the other with their own unique set of problems pushes too much upon our consciousness. Our psyche compresses under its weight like a spring, just loading up potential energy, ready to shove it away once more.

This stance toward each other hides under many names. It is the opposite of compassion, yet some would even call it counseling. Especially in Christian circles, the unspoken message becomes loud and clear: "Your pain is not welcome here. I have enough trouble with my own. Please get your temptations and suffering resolved, so we can get back to glorifying God like we are supposed to."

The church is well-practiced in the avoidance of pain. And by that I mean the country-club church, where attendance is on par with social status. And the church where the pastor is more interested in crafting sermons than attending to the care of souls in the congregation. Also: churches where everything is hush-hush when something needs to be hidden, with the pain of the victims suppressed as inconvenient to all involved.

We treat our pastors this way, don't we? They aren't allowed to have problems and temptations, because they're supposed to be the experts that tell us (and show us) how to follow Jesus. If they're struggling with particular sins (of course, not severe enough to disqualify from ministry), it must mean they're not loyal enough to the congregation. Or enthused enough about the ministry. But their ability to fulfill a congregation's ideal of the ministerial role puts food in their families' mouths.

We put these pressures upon our ministers, compressing their psyches under the weight like a spring. And then we cry out in surprise when our ministers fall.

The true church should imitate Christ, who did look at all pain, suffering, and temptation without shying away. He saw it all at once, stared at it full in the face, and still submitted through it. Hebrews 5 shares about high priests, "He can deal gently with the ignorant and misguided, since he himself also is beset with weakness." The more I consider that, the more I am convinced that the ignorant and misguided is all of us. Imitating Jesus requires us to learn gentleness.

Can you listen and deny your need to instantly provide the action step? Without assigning blame or homework? Listen when:

• The gay man tells you how responses to his orientation have caused him pain

• The abortion survivor shares how she misses her child and holds regrets

• A young professional describes not wanting to get up in the morning anymore

• A faithful church member relates feeling numb and disoriented in spiritual life

All of these situations, and more, are rightly greeted with lament. The more we meet each other in the present real and don't shy away from it, the more healing presence we share.

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"Welcoming All Problems" by zachtrek is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0