Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ
Galatians 6:2
This week I met a man carrying a weight no grandparent should ever have to bear. Last August, his granddaughter—who had just begun her career as a Physician’s Assistant—was tragically killed when a driver failed to stop at a construction site in Michigan. I don’t know this man, and I never knew his granddaughter, yet it was impossible not to feel the heaviness of his loss. Grief has a way of making itself known, even when words are few.
That encounter lingered with me. If I can be moved so deeply by the pain of a stranger, how much more attentive should I be to the burdens carried by those I love most? Compassion isn’t just about what we do—it’s equally about how we do it. Presence, tone, and posture matter.
Theologian John Stott speaks directly to this in his reflections on Paul’s words to the Galatians:
“Notice how positive Paul’s instruction is. If we detect somebody doing something wrong, we are not to stand by doing nothing on the pretext that it is none of our business and we have no wish to be involved. Nor are we to despise or condemn him in our hearts and, if he suffers for his misdemeanor, say ‘Serves him right’ or ‘Let him stew in his own juice.’ Nor are we to report him…or gossip about him to our friends… No, we are to ‘restore’…”
— John Stott, The Message of Galatians
Those words are both sobering and convicting. How often have we chosen distance over involvement? How often have we judged, condemned, or gossiped instead of coming alongside someone in their struggle? It’s far easier to talk aboutpeople than to carry something with them.
Paul tells us that when we share one another’s burdens, we are fulfilling the law of Christ. What does that look like in real life? He clarifies it further in his letter to the Romans:
“We who are strong ought to bear with the failings of the weak and not to please ourselves. Each of us should please our neighbors for their good, to build them up” (Romans 15:1–2).
This is the way of Christ—strength used not for self-interest, but for the good of others. Compassion that moves toward people, not away from them. Love that builds up rather than tears down.
So here’s the question that lingers with me today:
Who might we build up today?
Whose burden could we help carry—through a word, a prayer, a listening ear, or a simple act of presence?
Sometimes the most Christlike thing we can do is to notice, to care, and to walk alongside someone who is hurting—quietly, faithfully, and with love.

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