On Lent and Letting Ourselves Feel
God has a way of repeating some messages. Maybe it's because we weren't listening the first time, or maybe He's wanting to prove a point.
In Genesis 41, we read about Pharaoh's dream of the famine that would soon overtake Egypt. A reoccurring dream. "And the doubling of Pharaoh's dream means that the thing is fixed by God..." the text says. Similarly, Jesus repeated lessons to his disciples - and phrases such as "Truly, truly I say to you..." to catch their attention.
The other day, someone mentioned to me the importance of recognizing our humanity. It is far too easy for me (and perhaps I am not the only one who's this way, but maybe I am) to try to shut out my emotions in the face of crisis or difficulty.
There are some of us who believe, perhaps unconsciously, that allowing ourselves to be concerned, to mourn, to feel any sadness or uncertainty at all - is a lack of faith. Something that shouldn't be. A side effect of the human life which needs either masked or eradicated.
These things I pondered by myself for several days before I went for a walk with my mom, who told me about a podcast she'd been listening to - on the same topic.
She rewound the episode, and these words continue to stick with me:
"It's alright to be distressed by what is distressing."
Lent began a week ago. We have a bit more than 30 days left to ponder Christ's preparation for His sacrifice, and to prepare ourselves for Holy Week. Someone once pointed out to me that He spent some of the last hours of His life washing feet. An awe-inspiring thought to be certain, but our Savior also did not leave His earthly ministry and run to the cross without hesitation.
Before He submitted to God's plan - He Himself, total King of the Universe - entirely without sin - begged His Father to let there be some way He didn't have to go to the cross.
This is the same Jesus who openly wept at Lazarus' graveside before He raised him from darkness to living light.
We do not have a God who is unable to relate to us. He was without sin, and yet wept and wrestled with the Lord in regards to His future.
He, knowing what resurrection power filled His veins, knowing that He could raise His friend, mourned. Why? Because He has chosen to enter into our pain with us. He acknowledged death as the unnatural horror that it is. He did not discredit how greatly the darkness weighs upon our hearts. Scripture tells us that God Himself "gathers our tears in a bottle".
Then, He rose up Lazarus.
Jesus came to overcome the darkness. He did this not by sweeping it under the rug and pretending it was insignificant, but by acknowledging it - and then putting the devil in his place.
"If a rhinoceros were to enter this restaurant now, there is no denying it would have great power," Chesterton tells us. "But I should be the first to rise and assure it that it had no authority whatever."
Therefore friends, let us feel.
And then - let us too by His authority put the devil in his place.
In Genesis 41, we read about Pharaoh's dream of the famine that would soon overtake Egypt. A reoccurring dream. "And the doubling of Pharaoh's dream means that the thing is fixed by God..." the text says. Similarly, Jesus repeated lessons to his disciples - and phrases such as "Truly, truly I say to you..." to catch their attention.
The other day, someone mentioned to me the importance of recognizing our humanity. It is far too easy for me (and perhaps I am not the only one who's this way, but maybe I am) to try to shut out my emotions in the face of crisis or difficulty.
There are some of us who believe, perhaps unconsciously, that allowing ourselves to be concerned, to mourn, to feel any sadness or uncertainty at all - is a lack of faith. Something that shouldn't be. A side effect of the human life which needs either masked or eradicated.
These things I pondered by myself for several days before I went for a walk with my mom, who told me about a podcast she'd been listening to - on the same topic.
She rewound the episode, and these words continue to stick with me:
"It's alright to be distressed by what is distressing."
Lent began a week ago. We have a bit more than 30 days left to ponder Christ's preparation for His sacrifice, and to prepare ourselves for Holy Week. Someone once pointed out to me that He spent some of the last hours of His life washing feet. An awe-inspiring thought to be certain, but our Savior also did not leave His earthly ministry and run to the cross without hesitation.
Before He submitted to God's plan - He Himself, total King of the Universe - entirely without sin - begged His Father to let there be some way He didn't have to go to the cross.
This is the same Jesus who openly wept at Lazarus' graveside before He raised him from darkness to living light.
We do not have a God who is unable to relate to us. He was without sin, and yet wept and wrestled with the Lord in regards to His future.
He, knowing what resurrection power filled His veins, knowing that He could raise His friend, mourned. Why? Because He has chosen to enter into our pain with us. He acknowledged death as the unnatural horror that it is. He did not discredit how greatly the darkness weighs upon our hearts. Scripture tells us that God Himself "gathers our tears in a bottle".
Then, He rose up Lazarus.
Jesus came to overcome the darkness. He did this not by sweeping it under the rug and pretending it was insignificant, but by acknowledging it - and then putting the devil in his place.
"If a rhinoceros were to enter this restaurant now, there is no denying it would have great power," Chesterton tells us. "But I should be the first to rise and assure it that it had no authority whatever."
Therefore friends, let us feel.
And then - let us too by His authority put the devil in his place.
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