The Healing Power of Encouragement
Lessons from two dogs, EMDR recovery, and the surprising wisdom of Barnabas
Sometimes a weekly theme doesn’t come from a book, a quote, or a quiet moment of reflection. Sometimes it wanders in on four legs, sits beside you, lets out a long sigh, and simply reminds you to breathe again. This week’s theme is encouragement — and unsurprisingly, it has fur on it. Before Barney, there was Rafi.
A tiny, fluffy Bichon Frise with a beaming face and a completely disproportionate amount of loyalty. His name was intentional: Rafiki, Swahili for friend — and he truly was.
During some of the hardest times of my life, including EMDR therapy, Rafi became part of my healing. My therapist encouraged me to imagine a trusted figure saying reassuring, grounding things when my nervous system felt scrambled.
And so, I imagined Rafi, with that uncanny sincerity dogs have, speaking truth back to me:
You’re safe.
You’re doing your best.
You’re not alone.
It sounds simple, possibly even sentimental, but it wasn’t. It was grounding. It was survival. He was putting courage back into me — the literal meaning of encouragement. And my artwork began with him. Those little ink-and-watercolour sketches were like visual breaths, tiny reminders that hope could be soft and small… and still enough.
Losing Rafi was devastating. A grief that hit hard in both body and soul. I wasn’t looking for another dog. But life has strange timings. And then Barney arrived.
He came quickly, disarmingly quickly, after we lost Rafi. At first, I wondered if it was too soon. But grief doesn’t follow timetables, and comfort doesn’t always wait politely to be invited in.
When I met him, his eyes were bright. He wasn’t timid. He ran up from his littermates and chose us. Take me. It was as though he was already listening. And I knew immediately what his name would be.
Barney — short for Barnabas.
Barnabas was a first-century figure whose real name was Joseph. Barnabas was a nickname given by his community because he embodied something they needed. The name means Son of Encouragement. They named him after the way he lived.
That’s what I needed.
That’s what I hoped for.
And honestly, he has lived up to his name in ways I could never have imagined.
The word encouragement comes from the Latin word " cor ", meaning heart. To encourage someone is literally to put heart into them. Not flattery. Not empty positivity. Not “you’re amazing!” shouted across the void.
Encouragement is presence.
Encouragement is truth.
Encouragement is the strength to see what someone else has forgotten about themselves.
Sometimes encouragement is uncomfortable, too. On the Bayeux Tapestry, there’s a scene where Bishop Odo stands behind the troops with a club. He’s not harming them, he’s urging them forward. Encouragement can be like that: a nudge, a reminder, a provocation when everything in you wants to step back.
Barnabas — Joseph with the nickname — appears throughout early Christian history. But you don’t need to be religious to appreciate him. His story is deeply human.
He vouched for people when suspicion was thick.
He spotted grace when others scanned for faults.
He offered second chances.
He took John Mark with him when Paul had rejected him.
And, beautifully, he stepped back graciously as Paul rose.
But here’s the part that really matters:
Encouragement isn’t a personality type.
It isn’t an achievement.
It isn’t a special gift reserved for a few.
Anyone can be an encourager.
It’s not something you are — it’s something you do.
Rafi taught me that encouragement can be gentle. It can sit beside you without demanding anything. It can breathe with you when your own breath is unsteady. It can whisper safety in a way only a four-legged friend can.
Barney teaches me that encouragement is loyal. He listens more than he speaks. He leans in when the world feels sharp. And he nudges me outside when my instinct is to curl inward.
Barnabas teaches me that encouragement can be intentional — that it can lift others when they’re shaky, call out potential when someone can’t see it, and choose generosity over fear.
Together, Rafi, Barney, and Barnabas trace a kind of triangle in my story, a shape made of friendship, healing, hope, and heart.
And so, a few gentle questions for you:
Who has encouraged you when you needed it most?
Who put heart back into you when yours felt thin?
Who believed in you before you believed in yourself?
And who might need encouragement from you this week?
Someone struggling quietly.
Someone weary.
Someone who simply needs you to sit beside them and say nothing.
Encouragement doesn’t have to be grand. Most of the time, it’s presence with hope attached.
Maybe encouragement is less about the right words and more about the right posture.
Maybe it’s listening with enough love that the other person remembers their own strength.
Maybe it’s carrying courage for someone until they’re ready to hold it again.
It’s what Barnabas did.
It’s what Rafi did.
It’s what Barney does every single day.
And maybe, in whatever small, honest way, it’s something you can do too.