The Day Lucy Finally Let Jesus Do His Job: A Lesson on Setting Healthy Boundaries
Do you remember from the classic Peanuts gang the images of Lucy manning a booth with a sign that said, “Psychiatry 5¢”?
I never really liked Lucy’s character because she was bossy and always in everybody’s business. But there was something about that cartoon psychiatry booth that spoke to me. Something that made me want to always be available if somebody had a problem and needed me.
It started when I was a young child and I would sit with some of the outcast children on the playground. I would listen with understanding and try to make them feel better. Try to make them feel accepted.
That pattern continued into adulthood where the challenges I helped with turned into more serious adult challenges.
One day, a few years after I got married, my sister came to live with us. I loved having her there and we had great times together. But one day she shocked when she told me I reminded her of Lucy of the Peanuts gang. I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear what was coming next.
“Do you realize that every Sunday you spread out a quilt on the front lawn and people come to you one after the other to sit on that quilt and tell you their problems?” she asked.
It sounded funny when she said it, but it was true. During good weather I would spread a quilt on the lawn of our Victorian house and go outside with a book or my journal. My intent was to have some time alone. But invariably someone would walk down the street and see me there.
Before I knew it that person was sitting on my quilt with me and telling me their troubles. And once they left somebody else would happen by and do likewise.
I didn’t get much journal writing done. And I didn’t get much reading done. And I didn’t get any alone time. Why? Because I didn’t know how to tell them that I was trying to do something to fill my own bucket. I didn’t know how to set a boundary.
Years passed and my sister got an apartment. My husband and I moved to a new home out of state where we knew very few people. We lived on one of two main roads in town, so I gave up sitting on my quilt in the front yard on Sundays. But the tendency for people to come to me with their troubles didn’t stop.
I think when people are in trouble or worried or struggling, they need a listening ear. And when somebody is compassionate like I am, they are naturally drawn to that because they have found a willing listener.
Being a sounding board for others is one thing but it can be quite a heavy load when you internalize the burdens of others and take them on your own shoulders.
A few years after we made that move, my husband and I divorced. To support myself, I went to work for a domestic violence women’s shelter. It was a new experience for me, and yet it wasn’t. I was in a role where my job was to help the women in shelter solve their problems. Every day. After 3 years of working there, the overwhelm I felt was just incredible.
Because of this, when an opportunity came up to transfer within the organization, I took it. In that new position I worked with people who were in generational poverty.
Once again, I was in a role where people told me about their very heavy burdens. And once again I was in a role where it was my job to help them lighten their load and find solutions.
Being compassionate is a Christ-like attribute. But because of my type A personality, I had developed a pattern that took that strength to the extreme. It became a weakness to me that drained me.
Several years after working in that job transfer, I was suddenly bedridden.
The doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. I had no strength. I had no energy. Eventually I learned that I had been under so much stress for so long that my adrenal glands were overworked. My body was shutting down. I was eventually told that what I was experiencing was adrenal fatigue.
I’m happy to say I recovered, but my recovery was very slow. It was 8 months before I could be out of bed for an hour a day. And that was an accomplishment.
You would think that I would learn to do better. But I didn’t. A decade later I was on the brink of adrenal fatigue again for the very same reason!
My trouble was that I thought helping everybody solve their problems was what God wanted me to do. After all the scriptures tell us to “Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.” (Galatians 6:2).
In another place we read, “…come into the fold of God, … be called his people, and … willing to bear one another’s burdens, that they may be light; Yea, …willing to mourn with those that mourn; yea, and comfort those that stand in need of comfort . . .” (Mosiah 18:8-9)
Those verses had become the pattern for my life. Or so I thought.
Then about a year ago, God introduced me to Bethany. Bethany was warm, gracious, and kind. Every time I saw her, she seemed calm and unhurried. She served faithfully in her church, volunteered in the community, and cared deeply about people.
Yet there was something noticeably different about her. She wasn’t weighed down by everyone else’s problems. She wasn’t frazzled. She wasn’t overwhelmed.
She carried herself with a quiet peace that I longed to understand.
One afternoon, as we were having lunch together for the first time, I asked her. “Bethany,” I said, “how do you do it? I know people come to you for help just like they come to me, but somehow you stay calm. You’re never overwhelmed like I am. You’re always lovely. What’s your secret?”
She giggled a little and then smiled. “Let me guess,” she said, “You’re a fixer . . . just like I used to be.”
No one had ever described me that way before. But she had me pegged.
“Yep,” I said. “I guess I am.”
After a moment or two of silence, I added, “So, what changed?”
Her answer stunned me. “I went to counseling for a year,” she said. “And during that year I learned something that completely changed the way I look at helping people.”
I leaned in.
“When you try to fix somebody else’s problems,” she continued, “what you’re really doing is taking control.”
Ouch.
She let the words hang in the air for a moment.
It was uncomfortable but I knew she wasn’t criticizing me. She understood me. She had once been exactly where I was.
Then, in her kind and gentle way, Bethany shared one of the greatest Aha! moments of my life.
I want you to listen carefully to what she said because it was nothing that I expected to hear. Her words were simple, but they carried profound truth, and provided an epiphany for me.
“When you try to fix somebody’s problems,” she said, ” you’re stepping in between that person and Jesus. And you’re not Jesus. So, step out of the way. Then point them to Him. He will always be there for them, and His solutions will always be better than anything you or I could come up with.”
What Bethany was really saying was that compassion and control are not the same thing. Showing compassion is Christlike. Trying to manage someone else’s life is not.
Without realizing it, I had crossed that line over and over again.
I wasn’t simply listening. I wasn’t simply comforting. I was trying to rescue people. And in doing so, I was unintentionally stepping into a role that belonged to Jesus Christ alone.
I’m happy to say that as of this writing, I’ve been in a support group led by Bethany’s counselor for several months now. And the things I’m learning there are changing my life.
I’ve learned that I’m a person who never developed the ability to set boundaries. I just abided the boundaries of everyone else. So, if somebody needed something, I was there. If they needed to talk, I would listen. I was effectively “on call 24/7.”
By living that pattern consistently, I was constantly overwhelmed. I was always behind in my own housework and taking care of my own responsibilities.
I felt like I was doing something good when I tried to help people, but like Bethany said, I’m not Jesus. So, I needed to start getting out of the way. I needed to let people turn to the Lord for their answers.
Yesterday, it finally happened. For the first time in my life, I chose to be brave.
I got a call from a friend who had a big problem. It was such a big problem that I did not know even one thing to tell her. And her call came at a time where once again I was feeling overwhelmed by everything I was carrying.
She asked if I could come over right away and help her understand some documents. And in that moment, something told me this was where I had to draw a line in the sand. This problem was hers, not mine. It wasn’t mine to help. It wasn’t mine to counsel her. And it wasn’t mine to carry or solve.
I took a deep breath. I gathered my courage. And then I said, “I am sorry. I can’t come right now.”
My friend was desperate for help. I could hear it in her voice. My heart went out to her. But I couldn’t go against the feeling I was having that there was nothing for me to do here except point her to the Lord.
I did give her the names of a couple of people who might be able to help her understand the documents. And then I suggested that she pray about what to do once she understood them.
She heard me but asked if I could come another day as soon as possible to help her. Every part of me wanted to say yes. But I didn’t.
What happened after that is nothing short of miraculous. Bethany had told me that if I got out of the way that Jesus would be there. He would be there to solve the problem with the person whose problem it was. Her words were prophetic.
This morning I received a text. My friend told me that after we talked yesterday, she read the documents herself and tried to understand them. Indeed, the situation was grim. And then she prayed for help and guidance.
That was quite a moment for me. She had done exactly the right thing.
I read on. Her text explained that her prayers were fruitful. The Lord gave her an answer. It was nothing I would have thought of. But His solution was brilliant! It solved every part of her problem. Every. Single. Part.
It was an Aha! moment for me. Bethany had been right. When I stepped out of the way . . . Jesus stepped in.
I don’t believe those scriptures were ever asking me to become someone else’s Savior. They were inviting me to love people the way the Savior loves them. Sometimes that means listening. Sometimes it means comforting. And sometimes it means lovingly pointing them to the only One who can truly heal them. The One who has a plan for them.
The additional Aha! I had yesterday was that I don’t have to be Lucy anymore…and it’s going to be a blessing to everyone if I’m not.
Yesterday, at sixty-two years old, I finally understood that.
So today. . . I’m figuratively taking down my shingle. I’m folding up my quilt.
Tomorrow I’m going to call my sister and tell her. . .
Lucy finally grew up.
Your Sister in Christ,
