SHE LOOKED straight at me in the eye and asked the question most marriage counsellors dread to hear, “So, do you think that there is any hope in saving this marriage?”
There is one thing one needs to know about marriage counsellors and that is we never give a straight answer. How can we, given the many imponderables that need to be weighed?
My answer was, therefore, an indirect one. “It takes two persons to make a marriage and only one to break it,” I said. “From what you have told me, he sounds determined to end this marriage.” Her husband had earlier threatened that he would make life difficult if she did not accede to his demand for a divorce.
She was silent but seemed satisfied with my answer. I felt relieved having got out of a tight corner, but this soon gave way to doubt over the adequacy of response. I spent some time reflecting on the matter. What could I have said if I was not constrained by professional considerations? What should I have said as one believer to another?
When I asked if she had discussed the problem with her pastor, she side-stepped the issue, and said that she had wanted to hear a professional opinion. Our conversation left me with the conclusion that she had already examined her options from various viewpoints rather thoroughly. She had not come to hear me extol the importance of marriage or the value of patience; neither did she expect me to warn her about how a divorce could affect her or her young child.
Yet much as I felt assured that I had acted professionally, it did not stop me from wondering what my Christian duty to her was. Should I have given her a verse of hope to hold on to or maybe dismiss her with an exhortation to believe that God can work miracles and that one need not lose heart? Or perhaps remind her that behind every cloud is a silver lining or that there is a greater purpose which we sometimes cannot fathom? And that we nevertheless should not give up?
It also occurred to me, that while these ideas may be true in themselves, the most appropriate task at that point was to simply be there. What struck me then was that my Christian duty was to listen to a hurting soul. Listening involves the suspension of judgment. It is a quiet yet dynamic process that makes space for the other to fill with words and, on many occasions, deep emotions. Listening allows the listener to take away, if only for a brief moment, the burden of pain and suffering.
This question of what my Christian duty is to hurting individuals is one that we grapple with frequently. It is the consequence of having to live a Christian life in a fallen world. As a young Christian I was encouraged to use the question “What would Christ Himself do in this situation?” as a guide to daily living. This response presupposes that one is walking closely with the Father. Some people may try to obtain guidance by turning to the Bible or by identifying the Christian ideals and values at the heart of each query.
In my encounter with my client, I saw that my Christian response was not to be overtly spiritual but to be, dare I say it, humane. Being humane is, I believe, another expression of being spiritual. Being humane gives form and substance to the compassion of Christ.
Benny Bong, a member of Kampong Kapor Methodist Church, is a family and marital therapist.
