When Helping Hurts & Bravery Matters

You may be wondering what the two books I'm holding have to do with each other.

At first glance, probably nothing.

One is When Helping Hurts, a book I read a couple of years ago about poverty, charity, mission work, and helping those in need.

The other is The Bravery Effect, a book about courage, growth, resilience, and how adversity often shapes us into who we become.

Different topics.

Different authors.

Different messages.

Or so I thought.

The more I reflected on them, the more I realized they are actually teaching a remarkably similar lesson.

One asks whether our helping sometimes prevents growth.

The other reminds us that growth often comes through adversity.

Together, they have challenged me to think differently about what it means to truly love the people in my life. And perhaps more importantly, they have challenged me to examine my lifelong tendency to rescue.

A couple of years ago, I read When Helping Hurts. At the time, I viewed it primarily as a book about charity, poverty, missions work, and how we help those in need. As someone who has always loved serving others, giving generously, and helping people overcome challenges, I found the book insightful and practical.

What I didn't realize then was that I was reading it through a very narrow lens.

Recently, the book came back to mind, and I found myself reflecting on it in an entirely different way. What if the principles in that book aren't just about charitable work? What if they apply to nearly every relationship in our lives?

What if helping can hurt in a marriage?

What if helping can hurt in parenting?

What if helping can hurt in friendships?

What if helping can hurt in leadership?

What if helping can hurt when we continually step in to rescue the people we love?

Suddenly, a book I thought was about poverty started feeling like a book about me.

Over the past several months, I have spent a great deal of time in prayer, reflection, counseling, recovery work, and simply sitting quietly with God. During one of those times, I wrote a prayer in my journal that stopped me in my tracks:

"Help me to be authentic and true, without rescuing people so that they don't learn to triumph in their own pain."

The more I reflected on that sentence, the more I realized it may describe one of the most important lessons God is teaching me right now.

For most of my life, I have been a helper. I genuinely love helping people. I love encouraging people. I love supporting people. I love seeing people succeed.

And if I am being honest, I have often expressed that helping through generosity.

Sometimes it looked like donations.

Sometimes it looked like helping someone financially through a difficult season.

Sometimes it looked like giving opportunities, resources, advice, or connections.

Sometimes it looked like paying for something someone couldn't afford.

Sometimes it looked like leaving a generous tip, supporting a cause, or quietly meeting a need.

To be clear, I still believe generosity is a beautiful thing. I hope I never lose that part of my heart. Scripture is filled with examples of generosity, compassion, and serving others.

But recovery and self-reflection have caused me to ask some harder questions.

Was I always helping because God was leading me to help?

Or were there times I was helping because I couldn't tolerate watching someone struggle?

Were there moments when writing a check was easier than allowing someone to wrestle through a problem?

Were there times when my generosity unintentionally prevented someone from discovering their own strength, resourcefulness, faith, or dependence on God?

I don't ask those questions with shame. I ask them with curiosity. Because I am beginning to understand there is a difference between compassion and rescue.

• Compassion sees someone's pain and walks beside them.

• Rescue sees someone's pain and tries to take it away.

• Compassion supports.

• Rescue controls.

• Compassion trusts.

• Rescue manages.

For much of my life, I didn't always recognize the difference.

I thought helping was always loving.

I thought stepping in was always caring.

I thought carrying someone else's burden was always the right thing to do.

But what if the struggle itself is where God is working?

What if the very pain I am trying to remove is the place where God is building strength, perseverance, wisdom, character, courage, and faith?

Recently, I found myself in a situation where someone I care deeply about was hurting. I acknowledged their pain. I felt compassion for them. I even apologized for the role I played in creating some of that pain.

But for the first time, I didn't immediately move into fixing mode.

I didn't try to manage their emotions.

I didn't try to change my direction because they were hurting.

I didn't rush to make everything okay.

Instead, I simply allowed the feelings to exist.

Theirs and mine.

That may sound simple, but for me it represented a significant shift.

For much of my life, someone else's sadness felt like an assignment. Their disappointment became my responsibility. Their tears became a problem I needed to solve.

Today, I am learning that I can care deeply without taking ownership of someone else's journey.

I can love someone and still allow them to walk through difficult things.

I can support someone without controlling the outcome.

I can be compassionate without becoming responsible for fixing what only God can heal.

As I look back over the last year, I notice something else changing. The center of gravity in my prayers has shifted.

Not long ago, my prayers sounded more like:

"God, what should I do?"

"How do I fix this?"

"How do I help?"

"How do I keep everyone from getting hurt?"

Today, my prayers sound different.

"How do I stay authentic?"

"How do I surrender?"

"How do I trust You more?"

"How do I stop rescuing?"

"How do I let people walk their own path?"

The circumstances around me have not changed nearly as much as the questions I am asking.

And maybe that is where transformation begins.

As I reflected on all of this, I found myself thinking about The Bravery Effect and an illustration from the book that stayed with me.

Trees that grow in nature are exposed to wind, storms, changing seasons, and adversity. That resistance forces their roots to grow deeper and stronger. Over time, they become capable of withstanding future storms because they have already endured smaller ones.

Without resistance, the roots never develop the same strength.

The lesson is simple but profound.

The wind is not always the enemy.

The struggle is not always the problem.

The resistance is often what creates the strength.

As I thought about that image, I realized the same principle applies to people.

The hardest seasons of my life have often produced the deepest growth. The experiences I would never have chosen for myself frequently became the places where God taught me the most. The pain I wanted removed was often the pain that developed stronger roots.

If that is true in my life, why would I assume it isn't true for the people I love?

Perhaps one of the reasons rescuing can be harmful is that it attempts to remove the very resistance God may be using to strengthen someone's roots.

That doesn't mean we stop loving.

It doesn't mean we stop encouraging.

It doesn't mean we stop serving.

It doesn't mean we stop being generous.

It simply means we learn the difference between helping and rescuing.

Looking back, I realize that When Helping Hurts and The Bravery Effect are teaching a remarkably similar lesson.

One reminds us that helping can sometimes interfere with growth.

The other reminds us that growth often comes through adversity.

Both point toward the same truth:

People become stronger when they learn that, with God's help, they can face hard things.

In The Bravery Effect, Jill Schulman writes, "Comfort and Growth Do Not Coexist." She also encourages readers to "Embrace the Suck." While that phrase makes me smile, there is profound truth behind it.

Many of the things that have grown me the most were things I never would have chosen. They were uncomfortable. They were painful. They stretched me beyond what felt safe or familiar.

Yet those very experiences often became the places where God did His deepest work.

Funny how that works.

The very thing we are trying to avoid is often the thing God wants to use.

And the very struggle we are tempted to rescue someone from may be the struggle that develops the roots they will need for the future.

This lesson keeps showing up in every area of my life. It appears in my marriage and parenting. It appears in family relationships. It appears in friendships. It appears in leadership. It appears in business. It appears in recovery.

Different people.

Different circumstances.

The same lesson.

Be authentic.

Tell the truth.

Love deeply.

Trust God.

Stop rescuing.

Perhaps one of the greatest acts of faith is trusting that God loves the people we love even more than we do.

Perhaps one of the greatest acts of love is allowing people to discover that, with God's help, they can triumph in their own pain.

And perhaps one of the greatest gifts God is giving me right now is learning the difference between helping and rescuing.

I know I haven't mastered this lesson. In fact, I suspect I will spend the rest of my life learning it. But for the first time, I think I can see it clearly.

And once you see it, it's hard to unsee it.

As I finish writing this, I can't help but smile at the irony. I just spent several pages reflecting on helping, rescuing, generosity, and learning when not to step in—and now I'm about to offer you free books. Thankfully, books don't rescue us; they simply give us new ways to see. If this message resonates with you, I would love to send you a copy of When Helping Hurts, The Bravery Effect, or both. Sharing life-changing books is one of my favorite ways to spread hope and wisdom, and these two have certainly done that for me.

If you would like a copy of any of the devotionals or books I reference, please request one below, and I would be honored to send you one. Please reference the title of the post/devotional to ensure I send you the correct devotional/author. See my mission in the "About Me" link.

#WhenHelpingHurts #TheBraveryEffect #AuthenticLiving #FaithJourney #TrustGod #PersonalGrowth #RecoveryJourney #CourageToChange #Up2Him #ChangingLivesFound