Dad lost his battle with cancer a few months ago.

My heart and mind are still processing it all as I piece together all the beauty in the middle of the grief. There were some great lessons I learned from my father during his two-year battle. As Christians we frequently talk about helping one other carry our burdens. I’ve found it’s much easier to be on the giving end, rather than the receiving end of this.

When my dad received the news he was terminal, it was like suddenly his walls and pride vanished and he determined to let others walk with him through his suffering.

People would call and ask, “What can I do to help?” and instead of giving the cliché, polite answer we all usually give, he’d say, “I’m really fearful today could you pray with me?” or “I’m craving some cookies could you make some? I really like macadamia nuts.”

I teased him at times at his willingness to say what he wanted or needed.

But he’d reply, “It’s good for us when we serve, and it’s helping them as much as it’s helping me.”

So, I would sit in the corner of his living room, and I would watch in amazement day after day, as others relieved some of the heavy load on his hardest days. Some came and sat and laughed and cried with him as they held his hand. Some brought cookies, pies, or his favorite Italian cuisine. Others took him to doctor appointments or brought him a new La-z-boy when he could no longer lie in his bed.

As I watched others serve him, God’s presence was so tangible. I could see the Lord doing a beautiful work — both in my father and in every person that walked through his door.

I’ve read the story about the paralyzed man — whose friends brought him to Jesus through the roof — many times, but today I saw something different.

“So many gathered that there was no room left, not even outside the door, and Jesus preached the word to them. Some men came and brought to Him a paralytic, carried by four of them. Since they could not get him to Jesus because of the crowd, they made an opening in the roof above Jesus and, after digging through it, lowered the mat that the paralyzed man was lying on. When Jesus saw their faith, He said to the paralytic, ‘Son, your sins are forgiven.'” {Mark 2:2-5, NIV}

Whenever I read this story, I usually concentrate on the healing of the paralyzed man. Today I wondered what it must have meant for his friend’s hearts, knowing it was their faith and love that brought healing to this man.

What if the paralyzed man had refused their help?

Letting others see our pain is uncomfortable and feels vulnerable and risky.

Looking back, I realize how brave my father was. It takes courage to let others fully enter into our pain.

The next time we’re going through something hard, I challenge us to be brave and transparent when someone asks, “How can I help?”

A week before my father passed away, he talked about all the people that helped him during his illness. He looked at me with tears flowing off his face and said, “They carried me, Holly, and rescued me. I could have never done this without them.”

My father was right.

When we let others fully enter into our pain, not only does it mutually help us grow our faith, but it also tears down walls, and it ushers us into the presence of our Savior.

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Related: Bless a friend with words of encouragement — and this cute pouch! — and remind her you are blessed by her God-given desire to be all God created her to be.

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