To a Wonderful Counsellor

I recently had the chance to be a tiny bit like you — a counsellor to someone who was in just the situation I had been in, when I came to you. I looked at her, and her tears were mine — and now that they had dried, I knew what she had to do. I held her hand, describing her pain and where it hurt, watched as her eyes widened and the gasp died in her throat as she realised I was looking straight into her heart. When I pointed to the map, she nodded, understanding, tracing with a wavering fingertip the path that I was showing her. I slept so well that night, knowing that my own lessons had yielded fruit — there was one less heart bleeding into the night.

But, Counsellor, she came back — more broken than before, clutching the pieces of herself to her chest. I had made a mistake. I was not her, and she was not me.

In my haste to show to her what others had never seen for me, I fished out the pieces that looked familiar and left the others as they were, strewn on the ocean floor of her life. There were too many for me to hold — my compassion was small, my impatience great.

I gazed into the future and I saw imperfectly— I tried to be you, but I was just me.

I know a great many of us think we are qualified to be counsellors to the tired and broken people that stumble into our arms. We’ve traveled long, arduous journeys very similar to theirs; we’ve met people who’ve hurt us much the same as they’ve been; we’ve experienced God in amazing ways and we know that he has brought these people to us.

But here’s the thing — sometimes these very things disqualify us. While we are still full of our selves — our hurt, our healing, our wisdom, our pride— we will never fully know, with absolute surety, that the counsel we give is the one they need. Instead of counselling them, we need to introduce them to the Wonderful Counsellor — the one we know and love.

The one of whom the prophet Isaiah said,

“For a child has been born for us,
a son given to us;
authority rests upon his shoulders,
and he is named
Wonderful Counsellor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” [Isaiah 9:6]

For though we may be compassionate, Jesus is more. Though we may be wise, he is Wisdom. Though we may love, he is Love — and Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. [1 Corinthians 13:4–8]

We may love, but Love we are not.

And if God could use a donkey to speak to the prophet Balaam, we can be sure that it is not our eloquence or our compassion, our mind or our heart, that qualifies us — but our willingness to be, for the sake of our brother, a donkey.

How to lead someone to the Wonderful Counsellor

1. Listen, without judging.
2. Pray with/for them.
3. Teach them how to pray.
4. Introduce them to the Holy Spirit.
5. Lead them to an understanding of forgiveness — nothing specific.
6. Persuade/ remind them to make an examination of conscience and confession — again, nothing specific.
7. Tell them about/share a Bible podcast.
8. Show/share a video on how to journal.
9. Invite them to go to a retreat.
10. Introduce them to Mary, our Mother (and your own experience with her).
11. Invite them to a Bible study group, in-person or online.
12. Offer to send them reading material, if they would like.
13. Enlighten them about church teachings on the matter, without making it personal.
14. Do not enforce, but encourage overall personal growth — mental, emotional, spiritual.
15. Encourage them gently to go off social media and use the free time to improve their mental and spiritual health.

May the Wonderful Counsellor lead you as you lead others to him.