The Upside Down of Peace

So, F E E L I N G S. 

Look, now you look here, I am a firm believer in feelings! I think Christ is an EXTREMELY passionate man. He was flipping over tables and weeping and holding kids and laughing I bet, just laughing, with the best of ‘em here on earth. In everything I see in nature I can only assume God is unbelievably textured and varying in all of His emotion, in the swells of the ocean, in the way wind lovingly carries the scent of grass and autumn and citrus trees, in the proud regality of cliffs and the tiny sprouts of hope in dandelions, and I see feelings in the same way. They’re important. Coming and going, swelling, dwelling, and decreasing. And they too can be glorifying and Godly. 

                    

                   Can. Be.

 

So, my earliest impressions of feelings DO include being turned away because I was crying, and another was getting somebody else in trouble because I was crying. So right then and there I decided that crying was bad, no more crying. Whenever I could help it, do not cry. And I didn’t, for years. It took me some time to work it out, but i managed to “suck it up” for quite a while. Feelings=trouble therefore always smiling>having feelings. I did my best to hide any sadness, suppress any anger, swallow any fear as a kid, and as I matured I got better and better at it. Then, in Highschool, I got hit with depression, hard. No feelings, really no feelings, I was completely dead inside. 

I was suicidal. 

Everything looked dark and hopeless. 

Everybody’s faces seemed to be curving into sinister snickers, laughing at me.

I had so little desire to live, I felt invisible, worthless, lost. 

I’ll never forget those days and I hope I never do, because they taught me a valuable lesson: to live without any feeling is to already be dead. 

I was made to feel. 

I was made to feel joy, and I was made to wail when I’m hurting. 

I was made to be filled so overwhelmingly with love that I don’t even know what to do with myself. 

I was made to laugh until tears run out of my eyes and I can’t stand up straight and my face turns red.

I was made to be indignant over the mistreatment of my fellow human beings. 

I was made to be moved into spaces of worship of the Lord, where His love is so immediate and overflowing that I have no other choice but to be undignified in His presence, laughing, singing, dancing for Him with all my strength. 

Having feelings is part of how I was created, and after healing from some of that depression, I realized I never wanted to go back to the way I was ever again. So I started to allow the feelings, and it was very hard. My relationship with myself was so broken. After all the lies I’d been operating under I had a hard time knowing what was true and what wasn’t and it took many, many years for me to sort out. But to my surprise, I eventually came to the realization that my feelings were not my enemy, they did not make me weak, they did not steal away my credibility, they were actually one of my greatest strengths. 

They helped me understand and empathize with people better. They helped me love people in their tough places. They gave me a fighting spirit to protect and encourage feelings. They helped me understand how crucial it is to keep your heart clear, and I’m so doing, yourself healthy. I spent many years of my life physically sick because I wanted to crush and destroy and hide all of my feelings. 

 

You don’t have to be tough to be strong. Those words changed my life. So with the help of a therapist I started to allow my feelings, yes. It began with letting them happen inside me instead of talking myself out of it, or telling myself I deserved to feel that way, or pretending I hadn’t felt what I felt. I just let them come. Next, I started writing them down in journals, then I began to use them for performances, soon after that I started talking about them with my closest friends, and eventually I started sharing with my family. Finally, after that, I was able to talk about words and actions that were hurtful to me as those moments arose in real time. It was clumsy and poorly executed, sometimes more charged and accusing than I wanted to express it, but I was fighting to allow them and to be known. I still relied heavily on others to validate those experiences, to tell me I wasn’t crazy, and say that the other was wrong and they sucked. I’d go complain to somebody so that I could feel like me being hurt was okay. 

 

I listen to a podcast previously called: “Moms struggling well” now called “The Struggle Well Project”. I just wanted everybody to know that I’ve been on board with them since they were called “Moms Struggling Well”. No shame. There is an episode where a woman talks about how feelings are kind of like little kids throwing a temper tantrum, and how it can actually be easiest to look them in the eye, and say “I see you” “I love you” “it’s okay”. And they calm down. Wow, viva la revolución. 

 

It was around this time that I started asking God to help me and validate my feelings. He was so loving and patient and kind. “Yes Ari, of course that hurt you, it was hurtful.” Please note here, by the time I come around to this place it’s past the point of accusation. I learned that anger is a secondary emotion, and it can only come to the party when it’s linked up with hurt or pain. So, I picture it like a fat cat sitting on a glass table. From the top all you see is a big, chubby, frowny feline, eyes narrowed, tail flicking, claws at the ready to swipe. But if you were to look underneath, you would see a broken, small, crushed little mouse, squeaking and crying out sadly. 

 

Yikes, that’s uncomfortable. Sorry people who like leaning into anger because it feels powerful. Sorry people who label themselves as “angry people” or “quick tempered” because all I hear when you say it is “I’m hurt”. You’re more fragile than you realize. You’re seeping more brokenness than you wish as you draw up big breaths to bellow and hit and break. Blindly throwing fists in every direction trying to make contact with something, trying to matter, begging to be seen, to exist and be seen. You think you’re powerful, puffed up, vicious and intimidating, which maybe you are, but ultimately underneath all of that is a crushed, barely breathing, half heartedly gasping for air, injured, dying, crying little mouse. That desperately needs healing. This knowledge is terrible, huh? It’s hard to be so wholeheartedly angry and raging once you know what’s hiding under the belly of the beast. It’s hard to be so accusatory once you know where people are coming from. Set boundaries, teach people how to love you well, don’t suffer abuse or be fooled by manipulation, don’t manipulate, don’t excuse your anger, and also have knowledge about what is happening below the surface of bubbling rage. Brokenness. 

 

So, when I pray and ask God what He sees in my situation, He never answers with “YAH THEY SUCK YOU RULE WOW YOURE SO RIGHTEOUS AND PERFECT LOVE YOU GIRL” No no no, even though that’s what I wanted from my friends when I would gossip with them about something that made me mad, I don’t ask Him to validate me that way because I know that’s not truthful, and it’s not getting down into the real business of what’s going on. But, He really does validate my feelings. He shows me where the root is, and He tells me it’s okay when I’m hurting and need some comforting. Sometimes He reveals a different perspective to me, showing me that actually, I may have been stung a little bit by what was said, but look at where the other person is coming from. And sometimes, when He needs to, He lets me know that the hurt is because there’s a grain of truth hidden in there that I need to dig out, but I get to leave the pain or offense or sting behind. 

 

The Lord always grants me permission to feel, never growing impatient or frustrated or annoyed, but He always meets me lovingly when I come to Him broken and hurt. “My sacrifice, Oh Lord, is a broken and contrite heart, This you will not despise.” He loves it, he loves it just like I love it when my friends come to cry to me. What a privilege to serve a God who wants all of me, especially the broken, beat up, bleeding parts. I don’t have to pretend with Him, He just gets me.

 

So I’ve learned, and am still learning, to stop throttling my feelings, to stop trying to squish them down, ignore them. They are important, they can be so helpful, and I really believe God made all of us with them for a reason, but it’s on us to care for them well. 

 

This provides peace for me, all of this. Peace with my feelings. Peace in knowing that I have every right to be hurt, but it’s my responsibility to address it, sort it out, and gather peace again. Peace because instead of stuffing my feelings into a basement and locking them up and pretending they don’t exist until they come cascading out without my permission in tidal waves. I don’t have to fear my feelings. They don’t have to be running the operation, Christ gets to rule and reign over my feelings when I allow them to come and acknowledge them. It sounds backwards or upside down, but it’s given me very much peace to not be battling myself all the time, and it’s sucked away the vicious power of my feelings to overtake me. 

 

All feelings are real, but not all feelings are true. 

 

Thank you Lord, for the Holy Spirit who can point out lies in us, and thank you Lord that you’re calling people to counsel and heal and bring hope and light into deep emotional pain and scars. This is yet another frontier I see your will being done on earth. Being well in our hearts, from which everything flows, sure is helpful in following your command to love you and your people well.