We Got This?
Read Mark 2:1-12
Some men came, bringing to Jesus a paralyzed man, carried by four of them. –Mark 2:3
The most common mode of public transportation in Haiti is the “tap-tap.” Tap-taps are small pick-up trucks with a brightly-painted “shed” built on the back to transport people. Inside the shed, you’ll find three benches—one on either side and another down the middle. Each bench generally fits five people sitting tight; most tap-taps wait to load 15 people before beginning their route.
Two people would work the tap-tap. A driver up front, and a “money collector” in the back (who would usually ride standing on the bumper while holding onto the shelter above). When you want to get off, you signal the money guy, who taps on the side of the truck with a rock (hence the name “tap tap”).
The truck would often stop along the way to pick up new passengers. Somehow, people always squeezed in and made more room—I’ve ridden in tap-taps with more than twenty people crammed in. Children always sat on someone’s lap—they did not get a seat of their own. If a mother had multiple children traveling with her, she’d simply “hand” the kids into the tap-tap, and someone would take them and place them on their lap. We always marveled at this practice—in the US, you’d need a background check on someone before you gave them your kid to sit on their lap!
After traveling a few years in this manner, we were struck by how isolated and impersonal public transportation in the US can be. Whether it’s on a bus, a plane, or a subway train, we rarely talk to those who are around us. Heck, I usually try to avoid making eye contact, just to ward off the potential of a conversation. I once observed someone in the airport who had a broken arm in a sling trying to manage two large bags (while still holding their morning coffee in their one good hand). Every time the security line advanced, it was painful to watch this person trying to keep up with their bags. Jamalyn remarked that in Haiti, someone would’ve grabbed their luggage and helped them along. Yet no one—including us, who were much further back in the line—moved to help them. In our culture, we don’t violate anyone’s independence—the unspoken message we all put out there that “we got this,” even when we clearly don’t.
The man who needed healing in this story could not have gotten to Jesus on his own. He needed others to carry him. One of the marvels of this story for me is that he accepted his need—he even allowed those men to dig a hole in the roof and lower him down. I can only imagine how he would have had to swallow his dignity and pride to be put on display in front of a crowd. But Jesus treated him with the utmost dignity—he called him “son” and allowed him to demonstrate his faith before others (“Take up your mat and walk!”). My point is, our dignity is not lost when we allow others to help us. In some cases, that’s when the most genuine (and healing) connections are found.
Many of our lives are full of acquaintances—people with whom we work or socialize. But only a handful of those relationships rise to the level of friendship, people whom we can lean on when the chips are down. So here’s what I encourage you to do today—simply write down the names of 4-5 friends that you would allow to carry you. Or to flip it around, who are the people for whom you’d drop everything to carry them in a time of need?
If you have the time, listen to this song called “Stuff that works,” shared with me by a friend I leaned on a long time ago. As you listen, give thanks for each person that came to mind as your closest friends.