Come Into the Light: The Burdens We Cannot See

Come Into the Light: The Burdens We Cannot See

By: James L. Cartee, III, Ph.D.

(This is the view of the rainbow from the main cabin where we stayed. The cabin stands on top of a mountain.)

I traveled to Gatlinburg, Tennessee, for a Christian retreat, expecting a weekend of mountain scenery, spiritual renewal, and meaningful fellowship. I returned home with an even deeper realization: many people who appear to be doing well are quietly carrying burdens no one else can see. The retreat brought together graduate students from two universities in the southeastern United States through a Christian ministry I first joined as a doctoral student in 2020. Although I graduated in 2024, I have remained involved as a faculty member and participant because I believe Christian relationships and supportive communities can become sources of light during life’s darkest seasons.

The cabins were located near the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. It was the kind of setting where people could step away from demanding schedules, enjoy the beauty of the mountains, spend time with friends, and seek God’s direction.

During one of our sessions, the guest speaker used a simple but deeply revealing exercise. He distributed notecards and asked everyone to answer three questions anonymously:

How were you feeling about life before arriving at the retreat?

What did you hope to receive from the weekend?

What did you want to experience while you were in the mountains?

Approximately 50 to 60 people attended the retreat. Most were graduate students, along with two ministers, a few faculty members, and other volunteers. From the outside, it probably looked like a gathering of intelligent, capable, successful, and spiritually committed people.

Then the speaker began reading the anonymous responses.

One person felt exhausted. Another was seriously depressed. Others described themselves as tired, weary, discouraged, defeated, emotionally sick, lost, or severely anxious. One person admitted to being tremendously afraid of death.

As the cards were read aloud, it seemed that at least half of the responses carried some form of emotional heaviness. Card after card revealed a painful reality hiding beneath the surface.

As I listened, three words entered my mind with unmistakable clarity:

“Come into the light.”

I could not stop thinking about how many people live each day surrounded by others while privately struggling in darkness. They attend classes, meet deadlines, conduct research, go to work, participate in church, care for their families, and complete their responsibilities. They may smile, laugh, worship, and carry on ordinary conversations.

Yet internally, they may feel as though they are barely holding themselves together.

That moment led me to examine my own awareness. I study and teach Health Communication. I have written about psychological distress, mental-health help-seeking, stigma, and the importance of supportive relationships. I have also experienced difficult seasons in my own life.

Still, hearing those anonymous responses reminded me that knowing about suffering is not the same as noticing the suffering of the people sitting beside us.

The burdens were already in the room. Most of us simply could not see them.

For the past several years, my own life has contained a great deal of light. Since the birth of my daughter, Annabelle, our family has experienced tremendous joy and meaningful support. That does not mean life has always been easy. We have walked through health concerns, grief, uncertainty, and painful loss. Nevertheless, God has surrounded us with people who have loved us, prayed for us, encouraged us, and helped us continue moving forward.

Listening to those cards made me even more grateful for that support. It also reminded me that the light we receive is not meant to stop with us. God can use the compassion we have experienced to help us recognize and respond to someone else’s pain.

Creating Communities Where People Can Be Honest

The light we receive should shape how we respond to others. Galatians 6:2 tells us, “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ” (NIV).

This calling requires more than telling hurt people to pray harder, think positively, or demonstrate greater faith. Carrying someone’s burden means being willing to remain present when that person’s pain is uncomfortable or difficult to understand. It means listening without rushing to provide an easy answer. It means taking people seriously when they say they are not doing well.

Sometimes carrying a burden means sitting quietly with someone who cannot find the right words. Sometimes it means sending a message and asking, “How are you really doing?” Sometimes it means helping someone connect with a pastor, counselor, physician, support group, crisis resource, or trusted loved one. Sometimes it means checking on the person again after everyone else has moved on.

Christians should be among the safest people to approach during seasons of psychological distress. Our churches, ministries, Bible studies, classrooms, and friendships should be places where people do not have to pretend that everything is fine. Faith does not require us to hide our pain. Scripture is filled with people who cried out to God from places of grief, fear, confusion, exhaustion, and despair.

Coming into the light does not mean telling everyone everything. Some experiences are deeply personal, and wisdom matters when deciding where and with whom to share them. Coming into the light may begin with one honest conversation with a trustworthy person. It may mean accepting prayer, asking for practical help, contacting a mental-health professional, or finally admitting, “I cannot carry this by myself anymore.”

There is no shame in needing support. There is also no shame in receiving professional care.

Prayer, Christian community, medical treatment, and professional counseling do not need to compete with one another. God can work through caring friends, trained professionals, pastors, physicians, family members, and many other forms of responsible support.

The retreat reminded me that darkness is often closer than we realize. It also reminded me that darkness does not have the final word. John 1:5 offers this assurance: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (NIV).

Darkness may be real, painful, and difficult to escape, but it is NOT more powerful than the light of Christ. Even when people cannot see a clear way forward, God’s presence has not disappeared.

Jesus calls us toward light, truth, love, and community. When people find the courage to reveal their pain, our responsibility is not to judge them, dismiss them, or make their struggle sound simple. Our responsibility is to meet their honesty with compassion.

Someone around you may be waiting for permission to speak honestly. Your kindness could help that person believe it is safe to take the first step. You do not need perfect words, professional expertise, or an immediate solution. You can listen. You can remain present. You can pray. You can help connect that person with appropriate support.

You can remind someone that they do not have to walk through the darkness alone.

If you are struggling, you might pray for the courage to tell one trustworthy person what you are experiencing. You can ask God for wisdom about where to seek help, strength to take the next step, and the willingness to receive support when it is offered. You can pray for reminders of God’s presence when your emotions make Him seem distant.

If someone you know is struggling, you might pray for greater awareness, patience, discernment, and compassion. Ask God to help you listen before speaking and recognize when someone needs more support than you can provide alone. Pray for the humility to remain present without pretending to possess every answer.

The cards at that retreat revealed that many people are carrying invisible burdens. They also revealed why supportive Christian community matters. When one person steps into the light and another person responds with compassion, the burden may not disappear immediately. However, it no longer has to be carried alone.

The light still shines in the darkness. Sometimes God allows us to reflect a small portion of that light for someone who desperately needs to see it. Through the darkness, I still hear the Holy Spirit’s invitation: “Come into the light. Come into the light.”

(This was my first time playing a game called fishbowl. The game involved elements of charades. It was a lot of fun!)

(This t-shirt is a compliment to my beautiful wife, Lisa.)

(Some of the graduate students were shopping and relaxing in the village market in Downtown Gatlinburg.)

(Some of the guys and I played putt-putt golf indoors at a parrot-themed course.)

(Someone left their garbage locker unlocked in another cabin nearby. As a result, the bear received a free lunch.)

(This is another graduate student who enjoys photography as much as myself.)

(Here are some more pictures of the rainbow from different angles. This perspective was the view from our cabin on top of a mountain.)

(The rainbow stayed present for a little while. There were plenty of opportunities for portraits with the rainbow in the background.)

(Here is a group photo with many of the girls who attended the weekend retreat.)

 

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