Just show up

When I was 17, my stepdad of 15 years was diagnosed with cancer. He died two weeks later. That shattered my world and left me feeling heartbroken, gutted, confused and alone. As the eldest of four children, it also added a whole world of responsibility on my shoulders. It was a dark, often hopeless time but I will never forget how my Uncle Paul showed up to our house regularly with his family, to be there and to pray for us.  I don’t remember the exact words he said or the deeds he did, but I do remember he showed up and how that made me feel.  Not so alone, not so hopeless, and a little less burdened.

Too often, and I am guilty of this, men pull away from difficult situations believing we don’t have the perfect words to say or the ideal solution to a particular problem.  Sometimes, we justify this by convincing ourselves that it is somehow better we don’t go to see the person in their time of need.  If we do, or so we tell ourselves, we will say the wrong thing, make it awkward, or be an extra burden. We think we will make it worse. So, we retreat and console ourselves by saying: “I will pray for them.”

Now, don’t get me wrong, we should absolutely pray for anyone we know going through a tough time.  It works.  But how often do we stop there when we should be doing what Jesus would do, stepping into someone else’s worst nightmare, their broken world, their dark night of the soul.  

You don’t need fancy words, a grand gesture, or some solution to their current struggle. You just need to be there.  Your presence can help them to feel less alone, provide some stability in a time where their foundations are shaking, and show them that they are cared for and loved.  Like a flickering candle in pitch black darkness, you may not be able to show them the whole way out of their predicament, but you can give them just enough light to see that there is a step forward.  I know this because that is what Uncle Paul did for me (for all of my family).

I doubt he knew how much it mattered. It isn’t obvious at the time. And perhaps that is why I am writing this now. Uncle Paul died a few months ago. Because of him, and his actions in my time of need, I got to see that God is not distant when our world is falling apart. He is right there, in Spirit and in the people that are brave enough to show up. That is a God I could believe in, and, thanks to Uncle Paul, I subsequently came to do so.  

As this column is meant to help men navigate the challenges of life, let me wrap it up with this. Stop pursuing greatness. It’s exhausting and the metrics for measuring it are all wrong (e.g. fame, or the number of people who know your name, is much used but ultimately a dreadful judge of greatness). Start pursuing goodness instead.  That way, like Uncle Paul, your legacy will be far more meaningful for those you leave behind.

God bless you Paul Ayres, 1951 – 2025.