Recently I read a story that had a profound effect on me.
A couple was swimming in the ocean not far from the beach. Suddenly the captain of a nearby boat jumped from the deck, fully clothed, and began sprinting through the water toward them. “I think he thinks you’re drowning,” the husband said to the wife. “We’re fine.” He yelled, waving him off, but the captain kept swimming hard, his eyes focused straight ahead. With powerful strokes, he dove between the stunned couple. He had seen something they had not.
Directly behind them, not 10 feet away, their nine-year-old daughter was drowning.
Safely above the surface, in the arms of the captain, the little girl was finally able to call out for her parents.1
How did this captain know—from 50 feet away—what the father couldn’t recognize from just 10? Drowning is not the violent, splashing call for help that most people expect. The captain, a former lifeguard, was trained by experts and years of experience to recognize drowning. The father, on the other hand, had learned what drowning looks like by watching television. Until she was safe in the arms of her rescuer, his daughter hadn’t made a sound.
Drowning is almost always a deceptively quiet event. Television has conditioned us to look for waving, splashing, and yelling. This is rarely seen in real life. Someone who is drowning usually doesn’t have the breath to even say, “I’m drowning.”
Drowning doesn’t look like drowning.
Those words, “Drowning doesn’t look like drowning,” have entered my mind many times since reading that story. I hear them especially when I sit with my students. I study faces, looking for signs of drowning, but I know that in many cases they will not be obvious. Most of us hide our struggles behind masks of good cheer and confidence. It isn’t always obvious when someone is drowning. Drowning doesn’t look like drowning.
Because of the subject matter, students in my courses tend to self-disclose more than I suspect is normal for most classes on campus. As they share their stories, I am constantly amazed by the depth of the challenges and trials they have faced, and in many cases are still facing. Many are laboring under terrible physical and emotional burdens. Yet they smile, they participate in class, and looking on their outward appearance one would never know how hard they are straining to keep their heads above water.
The good news is that all of us can be, and indeed are called to be, lifeguards. The captain in the story was able to rescue the little girl because he was alert, he knew what to watch for, and he knew how to respond. We can do the same. Each of us has the ability to watch for signs of drowning and lift those who are struggling to safety.
In his wonderful devotional address, Brother Greg Klingler reminded us that we are the body of Christ, and “when one member of the body suffers, all the members suffer with it.”2 This is as good a definition of empathy as I have ever heard. In his epistle to the Romans, Paul reminds us that we should “rejoice with them that do rejoice, and weep with them that weep.”3 To have empathy is to feel the pain of others, and with it comes the natural desire to respond to that pain. I believe that, in general, we here at BYU-Idaho are very adept at this. As I look around me, I see women and men who are compassionate, caring, and quick to respond to those in need.
However, as I constantly have to remind myself, simply responding to the obvious pain of others is not enough. As followers of Christ, we are called to seek out those who may be in distress, not simply respond when we hear dramatic splashing and a call for help. Practicing this “proactive empathy” requires a willingness to look for pain that might not be readily visible.
On the devotional discussion board, I asked “What are some ways you can recognize when another person is struggling?” I got some amazing responses. Most of them seemed to center around awareness and mindfulness. One student used the phrase “diligently pay attention to others.” I love that word, “diligently.” In our world of constant electronic stimulation, it is getting harder and harder to resist the temptation to focus inward rather than outward. If we would be lifeguards, we must be mindful and aware of the people around us.
There are several things we can do to practice this diligent awareness.
First, we can watch for signs.
Sister Bonnie H. Cordon, Young Women General President, taught that we need to learn to really see those around us. In the parable of the sheep and the goats, Jesus said that those who would be found on his right hand would say, “Lord, when saw we thee an hungered, and fed thee? Or thirsty and gave thee drink? When saw we thee a stranger and took thee in?" (Matthew 25:37–38). “Brothers and sisters the key word is saw,” Sister Cordon said. “The righteous saw those in need because they were watching and noticing. We too can be a watchful eye to aid and comfort.”4
Stress is often signaled nonverbally, and the signs are not that hard to recognize if we are watching for them. A tightness around the eyes or jawline, a hunched, defeated posture, unusual rigidity, and excessive leg movement; all can signal emotional distress. Micro-expressions are flashes of emotion that often cross our faces without our being aware of them, but they can be recognized by an alert observer. Pay attention to what your own body does in moments of stress or pain, and then watch for those signs in others. It is important not to make assumptions about what a person is feeling based solely on nonverbal cues, but they are often red flags that signal that we should look closer.
Next, listen. Elder Marvin J. Ashton of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles had this to say on the subject of listening:
"Listening is more than being quiet. Listening is much more than silence. Listening requires undivided attention. The time to listen is when someone needs to be heard. The time to deal with a person with a problem is when [they have] the problem. The time to listen is the time when our interest and love are vital to the one who seeks our ear, our heart, our help, and our empathy."5
As James puts it, we must be “swift to hear” and “slow to speak.”6 Listen for clues that a person might be struggling. Choice of words, speaking louder or softer than normal, or a slightly raised pitch can be signs of distress. When people talk to you, listen for facts, but also for feelings. If you pay attention only to the words being said, you are getting less than half of the message.
When you perceive stress or pain in others, acknowledge it. Sometimes just showing that you have recognized the feelings can be the key to getting someone to open up.
Recently in a Professional Presentations class, I was announcing the days that individual students would be expected to present. My attention was drawn to a young man whose posture seemed more tense than usual. As I mentioned the day that he would be presenting, I saw his eyes fill with tears, and a look of utter hopelessness flash across his face. It was there only briefly, and I could easily have missed it. This time, fortunately, I noticed. As the students left the room, I pulled the young man aside and mentioned that he seemed stressed. Was there anything I could do to help? At first, he seemed startled that I had noticed anything was wrong. Then he began to share. He told me that his two-month-old infant had significant health problems, and he and his wife had been overwhelmed with hospital visits and sleepless nights. I was able to make a slight adjustment to the schedule. This small accommodation, which the student would never have requested, cost me nothing. But it made a huge difference for him.
Don’t be afraid to ask questions. Avoid the usual, “How are you doing?” We have been conditioned to see this as a greeting rather than a sincere question, and rarely respond honestly to it. Instead try, “How are you feeling?” or “What is happening in your life?” or even, “You seem tense. How can I make your life better today?”
Of course, our most important tool is our ability to listen to the Spirit. Asking the Lord to help us be aware of and sensitive to those around us can give us access to an entirely new level of perception. In a devotional address at BYU, Elder David A. Bednar offered this tribute to his dear wife:
"Before attending her sacrament meetings, Sister Bednar frequently prays for the spiritual eyes to see those who have a need. Often as she observes the brothers and sisters and children in the congregation, she will feel a spiritual nudge to visit with or make a phone call to a particular person. And when Sister Bednar receives such an impression, she promptly responds and obeys. It often is the case that as soon as the 'amen' is spoken in the benediction, she will talk with a teenager or hug a sister or, upon returning home, immediately pick up the phone and make a call. As long as I have known Sister Bednar, people have marveled at her capacity to discern and respond to their needs. Often they will ask her, 'How did you know?' The spiritual gift of being quick to observe has enabled her to see and to act promptly and has been a great blessing in the lives of many people."7
Above all, please, please never ignore a prompting. President Spencer W. Kimball taught, “God does notice us, and he watches over us. But it is usually through another person that he meets our needs.”8 The Lord knows who is struggling, and the Lord has an exquisite sense of timing. He will prompt you to do and say exactly the right thing at exactly the right moment. Sometimes these promptings will make no sense to you at the time. But if you question and debate with yourself, the moment will pass and the impact will be lessened. If you demonstrate your willingness to act on promptings, they will come with greater and greater frequency. You will have the privilege of being an instrument in the Lord’s hands in blessing his children.
I myself have been the beneficiary of the Lord’s tender mercies and witness to his perfect sense of timing. A few years ago, I was struggling to keep my own head above water. I was experiencing some significant health issues that I felt severely limited in my ability to be at my best. It got so bad that I seriously contemplated giving up teaching. I felt that I could not give my students everything they deserved. I vividly remember the moment I nearly gave up. I was at Maverick, putting gas in my car. I was overwhelmed with a feeling of discouragement and despair. I knew I couldn’t continue. At that exact moment, there was a screeching of tires and a car pulled up next to me. The window rolled down and there was one of my students. He said, “Brother Embree! I just wanted to tell you I love your class! You are my favorite teacher!” And then, vroom, he was gone. I was speechless. If that had happened five minutes earlier, or five minutes later, it would not have had the impact that it did. Coming right at that moment, it was a clear message and a tender mercy. I knew I should not quit. I knew I could endure. I knew all would be well.
It wasn’t until a couple of months later that I received a knock on my office door. It was this same student. He said, “Brother Embree, do you remember when I saw you at Maverick?” Oh, yes. I remembered. “Well, I was just sitting in my apartment when I had the strongest feeling that I needed to get up right then and go to Maverick. So I did. And you were there.” I will be forever grateful to someone who was willing to get up right then and do something that made no sense.
This story illustrates something else as well. To rescue others, you must be a strong swimmer yourself. Practice self-care—physical, emotional, and spiritual. My rescuer was obviously living in such a way as to be in tune with the Spirit, and this allowed him to hear and respond to his prompting.
If we would be lifeguards, we must be willing to get wet. We must know when to dive into the water, rather than simply shouting encouragement from the shore. Empathy requires us to feel with people, not just feel for people. We must be willing to listen to their stories and seek to really understand their circumstances.
It is worth mentioning that, while we want to be aware of hidden pain or distress, we may not always have the tools to appropriately address it. While we can always offer our love and empathy, occasionally we will have to direct individuals to professionals or ecclesiastical leaders who may have more specialized knowledge and training.
If you are struggling, I’m sorry. Please know that you are important, you are seen, and you are loved.
I implore you to reach out. I promise that you will be surprised by who reaches back. You are surrounded by brothers and sisters who will respond to you with love and empathy. Competent professionals and caring ecclesiastical leaders are available to listen and provide support. Most of all, please reach for the Lord. In last week’s devotional, Elder Christofferson reminded us that the Lord will never forsake us, nor fail us. He sees you. He loves you. He understands you. He has suffered what you are suffering that he might know how to succor you. In his timing, which is perfect, He will lift you from the water and support you. I know this to be true.
Perhaps no story better illustrates the Savior’s willingness to come to our aid than the story of the widow of Nain. Luke, in chapter 7, recounts that this widow had just lost her only son. As the burial procession was nearing the gates of the city, Jesus drew near. Seeing the dead man and the weeping mother, Jesus “had compassion on her, and said unto her, ‘Weep not.’” Touching the bier, He said, “Young man, I say unto thee, Arise.” The young man sat up, raised from the dead, and Jesus returned him to his mother.9
By itself, this account is extraordinary. It is the first recorded instance of someone being raised from the dead. Yet there is so much more to the story. The widow, aside from the pain of losing her only son, had also just lost her sole means of support. In ancient Israel, she would have faced social isolation, destitution, and possibly starvation. Can you imagine the depth of her despair and the urgency of her prayers?
Luke recounts that just the previous day, Jesus had been in Capernaum, and had healed the centurion’s servant. Nain is a small, out-of-the-way village some 30 miles from Capernaum. It is 700 feet above sea level, whereas Capernaum is 600 feet below sea level. The journey from Capernaum to Nain is an arduous climb, usually requiring one or two days. In order to arrive in Nain when he did, Jesus would have likely had to walk through the night, 30 miles, uphill.10 It seems that Jesus somehow knew this woman’s situation. His compassion for her started long before He saw her weeping in the funeral procession. He left Capernaum and undertook a difficult journey to be in just the right place at just the right time to offer aid. I believe that there was nothing coincidental about this encounter. Jesus went far out of his way to rescue this grieving, destitute widow. As we seek Him, He will do the same for us—at just the right time, and in just the right place.
I hope my message today will be perceived as positive. Yes, there are people all around us who are drowning. Each of us will likely be drowning at some time in our lives. But look at all the potential lifeguards in this room! We, every one of us, have the capacity to care for and rescue each other.
None of what I have suggested today is particularly difficult or profound. Being a lifeguard doesn’t require an expertise in nonverbal communication or the ability to read minds, but maybe it does require us to look up from our phones once in a while. While what I am suggesting may seem very simple and intuitive, we can all use a reminder that a prerequisite for empathy is awareness, and awareness often requires intent. We rarely see what we aren’t looking for. If we would be lifeguards, we must be vigilant, not just responsive.
On the wall of my office, next to the door, hangs a mask. I keep it there as a symbol and a reminder. Each time I leave my office and head to class, I get a visual reminder that what I see in the faces of my students is not necessarily what is there. Each bright, happy face may hide a person who is fighting desperately to stay afloat. Drowning doesn't always look like drowning. As would-be lifeguards, we must make sure a lifeline is close at hand, keep our eyes on the water, and stay alert. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen.
Notes
- Mario Vittone, “Drowning Doesn’t Look Like Drowning,” Slate, June 4, 2023, Slate-Drowning Doesn’t Look Like Drowning.
- Greg Klingler, “Ye are the Body of Christ,” BYU-Idaho Devotional, Feb. 3, 2015, Ye are the Body of Christ.
- Romans 12:15.
- Bonnie H. Cordon, “Becoming a Shepherd,” Ensign, Nov. 2018, Becoming a Shepherd - Bonnie H. Cordon.
- Marvin J. Ashton, “Family Communication,” Ensign, May 1976, 52, Family Communications - Marvin J. Ashton.
- James 1:19.
- David A. Bednar, “Quick to Observe,” BYU Speeches, May 10, 2005, “Quick to Observe” - David A. Bednar.
- Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Spencer W. Kimball (Salt Lake City, UT: The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 2006), 82.
- Luke 7:13–15.
- Keith J. Wilson, “In Times of Discouragement, Remember the Widow of Nain,” Liahona, Apr. 2019, In Times of Discouragement, Remember the Widow of Nain | Keith J. Wilson