A Glass Case of Emotion
An unfortunate run-in with a rude copilot, that wintering thing, and what to do with all the feels.
But I will sing of Your strength and will joyfully proclaim Your faithful love in the morning. For You have been a stronghold for me, a refuge in my day of trouble. To You, my strength, I sing praises, because God is my stronghold—my faithful God.
Psalm 59:16-17 HCSB
Picture this
I’m sitting in a quiet spot in the back of my favorite local coffee roaster. I usually work on my Substack at home, but I’m trying some different scenery today. A steaming chai latte awaits me and I’m ready to write. Microsoft Word updated to include something called Copilot. Okay, cool. It invites me to type what I’m wanting to say into a little box and let them generate a layout for me. Sure, I think. Why not?
With two Bible passages in mind (Psalm 56:1 and 2 Corinthians 4:8), I begin writing about the pressures in this world, how they always produce something — for good or ill. A few paragraphs later I press the magic button to see what this Copilot thing does. It tells me it’s generating a draft…
Five minutes go by. 🤨 I didn’t write that much. Never mind.
I press STOP. Still generating. 😐
I click STOP repeatedly like the >|< button in an elevator. …generating… 😤
I close my computer and reopen it. Still buffering. 🙄
After 10-minutes I close the application, hoping it will recover my work once it reboots. Nope. Everything vanished. 😳
I sit there dumbfounded for a moment, then disable Copilot with extreme prejudice. Jerk. Take a sip, deep breath, start again. The content is slightly different but essentially the same information. I have AutoSave enabled to safeguard this round of creativity.
An hour later, the Paste image pops up. I keep writing because that’s what usually makes it disappear, but it stays put. I click Keep Text Only and it doesn’t budge. Okaaaay. I try Match Destination Formatting. The page goes blank. I rush to click Undo but the button is faded. I can’t undo. My eyes widen. Holding my breath, I glance across the screen and see AutoSave saving… NO. Quick! Browse Version History. The most recent save reveals one and a half paragraphs. My mouth falls open. AutoSave was indeed not performing its job. Copilot’s retaliation. Are you serious??
Over two hours and nothing to show for it. I pack up my things and leave. Driving away, trying to find meaning for the time I lost, I think, Maybe it was crap. And maybe it wasn’t. Regardless, I’m shelving the topic for another day.
Wanna know something ironic? The working title was “You’re Crushing It.”
What was that I said about winter?
Dragging myself across the finish line of February into March, I thought of a Substack from 3 months ago where I wrote about winter being one of my favorite seasons.
Yes I did. Me.
I wrote with heartfelt conviction. Something about an extended time of rest, blah blah blah… We had a few days in the 60s and I thought winter was behind us. Then March 4th rolled around with a 100% chance of a blizzard.
I won’t recant my stance on winter right now. It’s too soon, too fresh. Check back in September.
The only way is through
Kind of like childbirth.
I vividly remember the pain induced panic during labor with my firstborn. Logically, I knew the baby must come out — but the part of my brain looking for relief thought, Rather than continue this agony, I will simply stay pregnant forever. Hours later, she was born and my anguish was replaced with joy. Just look around to see the reality of John 16:21:
When a woman is in labor, she has pain because her time has come. But when she has given birth to a child, she no longer remembers the suffering because of the joy that a person has been born into the world. (CSB)
When delivery time came for my second and third babies, despite knowing my body would suffer, I wasn’t afraid because I had experienced the joy set before me. Kristin LaValley captures this dichotomy in her Substack. She says, “Our bodies keep the score of the bad things, but our spirits remembers the good.” My body remembered the pain, but my spirit trusted it would be worthwhile.
Spring, like a newborn, is the enactment of Psalm 30:5b: “Weeping may last for the night, but a shout of joy comes in the morning” (NASB).
Great potential
I’ve witnessed many unfortunate circumstances turn into blessing. Consequently, I seem to have a knack for seeing potential in the unresolved. Viewing disruptions with hope and expectancy helps frame each day in a redemptive light, regardless of the good or bad.
Take this week, for example, when both my guys traveled to different destinations. Sean graciously parked Ruth (his Jeep) at the airport on Wednesday so I wouldn’t have to make three trips in five days. Only Roxy, my car, decided Thursday was the day to need … a belt? An alternator? Whatever she needs, the rancid smell of burning rubber has her confined to the garage. So my friend Trina picked me up late Friday night and took me to find Ruth in the long-term parking lot at MCI so I could get Ethan to his flight Sunday morning. Bless her. (Pro tip: never book the earliest flight on daylight savings “spring forward” because setting an alarm feels like you’re solving the Matrix.) Then on my way to church, Ruth’s check engine light came on. I laughed out loud, acknowledged to the Lord that He in control, asked for safe travel, and went on my merry way.
My mind doesn’t immediately think of redemption when I face difficulty, though each year I arrive there more quickly. Ruth is okay, and Ethan made his connecting flight in Atlanta by the grace of God. Yet I want to be aware of my heart in these distressing situations. Trusting the Lord is always the right move, but there can be a fine line between genuine reliance and conflict avoidance. Painting a silver lining may have a shadow side where genuine hope gets pushed aside for self-preservation.
Brad Hambrick talks about how Christians might miss the mark when trying to encourage someone who is suffering.
We get lost trying to untie a theological knot and become distracted from the [person’s] tangled life. Or, if the sufferer becomes upset with God, which sufferers often do, we act as if we are God’s defense attorney, rather than bearing witness to the pain and confusion that the person is giving voice to…often because we feel uncomfortable sitting in the presence of unresolved pain.1
Anybody take this approach with their own suffering? When we’re upset, our emotions seek an outlet. Circumstances and the actions of others are out of our control, so what’s the best response? Sure, we could lash out, point fingers, or rage at the safe people in our lives who won’t automatically cancel us for being nasty. (PSA: I’ve dabbled in those methods. They only fuel discontentment and result in a need to repent. Internalizing everything requires a smaller audience to seek forgiveness from; but that, too, is lacking...)
Because of divine sovereignty and human responsibility,2 control is found with God, and in the sufferer’s response. God is loving, faithful, and compassionate. Evidences of His mercy and kindness are visible in the smallest things. Because of His grace, blasting Him for my distress doesn’t make sense — to me anyway. But then who’s left to absorb uncomfortable emotional responses?
Thankfully, the Psalms show us how to handle and direct strong emotions. The Book speaks to fear, betrayal, grief, guilt, being shunned, oppression, feeling forgotten, and being afflicted. That last one is tricky because Romans 5:3-5 tells us to rejoice in affliction because it produces patient endurance, experienced character, and ultimately a hope in God that does not disappoint.
There’s a unique temptation when believing everything works together to produce goodness.3 Since Jesus wins, minimizing personal suffering and adopting a reductionistic view of pain could seem righteous. But one of the devil’s best schemes is “convincing Christians that oppression is godly.”4
We can recite platitudes till we’re blue in the face. Everything’s gonna be okay. I just need to hold on. God’s got this. It’ll all work out in the end. Wait and see. None of those are bad mantras, and followers of Jesus know the end is actually the beginning of the greatest good. But mantras in and of themselves hold no power. Repetition ≠ belief. Avoidance ≠ healing.
We need the work of the Holy Spirit through the power of God’s Word. The Psalms invite us to cry out, write down, and share our hearts honestly with the only One who can sympathize, relate, and deliver. This is not to say we need to maximize feelings and give in to every thought that enters the mind. Surrendering total control to feelings is antithetical to healing. Just ask Ron Burgundy.
Still, we don’t need to be afraid of powerful emotions. God purposefully gives us a guide for the full range of emotions He knows we will face.
You’ll notice that not all the psalmists’ feelings paint an accurate description of reality, or even of God’s character. For example, the sons of Korah’s complaint to God sounds super irreverent in Psalm 44, and they essentially absolve themselves of any wrongdoing. It reads like, We’ve done everything right but YOU crushed us. Why would God keep that kind of emotional outburst in the canon? Maybe because He knows our frame, understands our weakness, our frailty, and He invites us to bring what we feel to Him, even when — perhaps especially when we’re so distressed we forget what is true. We “receive mercy and find grace to help us in time of need” when we take our groaning straight to the sinless One who has been tested in every way that we are (Hebrews 4:15-16).
Psalm 10:1 passionately expresses, “LORD, why do You stand far away? Why do You hide in times of trouble?” And Psalm 46:1 answers in truth, “God is our refuge and strength, a helper who is always found in times of trouble.” Psalm 13:1 asks, “How long, LORD? Will You forget me forever?” Psalm 27:10 speaks what is true, “Even if my father and mother abandon me, the LORD cares for me.”
And finally, Psalm 55:4-8 has resounded with me many times through the years:
My heart shudders within me; terrors of death sweep over me. Fear and trembling grip me; horror has overwhelmed me. I said, “If only I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and find rest. How far away I would flee; I would stay in the wilderness. I would hurry to my shelter from the raging wind and the storm.”
Toward the end of that chapter I am always steered toward hope: “Cast your burden on the LORD and He will sustain you; He will never allow the righteous to be shaken” (Psalm 55:22). This I know is true. I pray you know it, too.
The Fortnightly
A bi-weekly offering of music, good food, interesting reading, and a moment that needed capturing.
THE TUNES
Getting practical here. Sometimes we stuff emotions far too long because who wants to have a blubbering ugly cry in public (besides Ron Burgundy)? But when there is actually time and space to tap into all those feelings — the ones we’ve been hiding in our muscles — it’s usually {{{CRICKETS}}}. There’s a show where a someone gives a colleague advice for how to make time for grief. He says, “Takes about 15-minutes. Pick a piece of music. Something sad…and just feel your feelings.” See if this playlist has something to move you. Try it with the Psalms open in front of you and a box of Kleenex.
Cover image by Anna Jones.
ON THE MENU
My crew agrees that this Chicken Pot Pie from The Pioneer Woman is hearty and delicious. I omitted the white wine but the flavor was still superb. The contents were too soupy for our liking so next time I will either use more flour or less broth. The recipe says it feeds 12. Hahahahahaha FALSE. Maybe if you serve a large salad and bread with it, and even then it’s so yummy you’ll want a second serving. If Sean had been in town, we wouldn’t have leftovers. Plan accordingly. ;)
READ ALL ABOUT IT
One of my most beloved books is Angry with God: An Honest Journey through Suffering and Betrayal by Brad Hambrick. The description shares: “While we are often prone to interpret our anger about intense suffering as being at God, this book is an invitation to process these intense emotions with God as a source of comfort sturdy enough to support these turbulent emotions.” I recommend this book, especially for anyone struggling with the problem of evil, injustice, betrayal, or grief. Read it with a friend.
THE MOMENT
Ever heard of permanent jewelry? It’s new to me. Basically, it just means the material is soldered shut and has no clasp, so you can’t take it off. Jess Ishmael, the delightful KC owner of Light + Links, had a popup at my gym last weekend. As a reminder of Psalm 16:8, I purchased three gold bracelets to represent the Trinity on my right wrist. “I keep the LORD in mind always. Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken” (HCSB).
Be well, friends.
Journal of Biblical Counseling, 28:3 (2014): Making Peace with Romans 8:28 by Brad Hambrick, 44-45.
On the paradox of divine sovereignty and human responsibility, J. I. Packer wrote: “Though [God] owns no property and has no bank balance, there is a sense in which everything belongs to Him, because He is Christ’s, and Christ is Lord of all. [And] God made us responsible moral agents, and He will not treat us as anything less. His Word addresses each of us individually, and each of us is responsible for the way in which he responds for his attention or inattention, his belief or unbelief, his obedience or disobedience. We cannot evade responsibility for our reaction to God’s revelation. We live under His law. We must answer to Him for our lives.
“Our minds dislike antinomies [contradictions between conclusions which seem equally logical, reasonable, or necessary]. We like to tie up everything into neat intellectual parcels, with all appearance of mystery dispelled and no loose ends hanging out. Hence we are tempted to get rid of antinomies from our minds by illegitimate means: to suppress, or jettison, one truth in the supposed interests of the other, and for the sake of a tidier theology.”
Romans 8:28 - also see the article in footnote 1 for the best context.
“Painting a silver lining may have a shadow side where genuine hope gets pushed aside for self-preservation. “
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