on broken hearts in a cold hearted world
Emotional stability is held as a virtue by some. I think those who hold tightly to a feel-no-pain, do-no-wrong way of life will be ambushed at some point in their lives with a sudden inability to cope with a circumstance or a new emotion.
The Christian community as a whole has put a black mark upon being emo or feeling and responding to emotional pain. But, hurt is real. Unfortunately for the thousands who die every year of suicide or injure themselves to feel better, emotional pain can't be wished away or brushed aside.
The point of this post is not to denigrate Christian joy. I do believe that joy, contentment, trust in God and happiness are vital parts of life. But they are not mutually exclusive with deep-seated emotional anguish, and I think too many people ignore that fact.
The real point of this post was just to share something I have written on my desk right now in big, black marker. I included the previous in order to provide some context for the text I'd like to share. I said more than I intended, so I will now move on to the real bulk of this post:
Emotion is the perception and interpretation of circumstance, so emotion cannot be exaggerated or over-felt by the feeler; it can only be more keenly perceived and more deeply and personally understood. To feel the sharp pain of loneliness or confusion is not to be without hope, but to embrace the potential of a better circumstance and for that reason hope all the more strongly.
And that's why it pierces my spirit to watch so many teens bleed and die every year of their own will, simply because too few people are willing to help them find hope in better circumstance but are all-too-ready to downplay their problems and label them as emo.
You're not alone. If you're dealing with emotional pain and are looking for resources or want to learn more about the ministry behind these thoughts, visit To Write Love on Her Arms at www.twloha.com.
2 comments:
Dear Emily,
Fair warning: I’ve rambled most immoderately. I feel a bit as though I’ve stumbled upon someone’s favorite reflection-spot while wandering through the Arb. But blogs are a place to write down one’s thoughts, so perhaps you’ll forgive me if I intrude into your private room, to lay down my thoughts beside your own.
I’ve cross-posted this comment on my blog, if it might be easier to read there.
Thank you for this post. I have often been concerned about the callous hearts Christians have toward those in pain. Some authors have even turned heartlessness into a virtue, especially for cross-sex friendships. They write of the need to practice “emotional abstinence,” or of how you should “not [be] emotionally available to every guy that comes along.” Others criticize supportive youth groups as a place for “emotional strip-tease” and “emotional fornication.” If a boy is hurt because a relationship ended, they condescendingly suggest that he is suffering from the “broken heart syndrome” or the “teen-romance mentality,” turning an appropriate human response into a mental disorder. If a girl is lonely, then she must not be “content with her singleness,” which, they preach, is a prerequisite for God to grant you a companion. Emotions are viewed as something Christians must “learn to control, and squelch, and suppress”. They are presented as the greatest threat to self-discipline in a manner which, I am tempted to say, seems to replace sin with emotion, and sanctification with stoicism.
And sadly, many of the Christians who are sensitive to the pain of others are themselves at a loss for how to comfort them, because they have emptied their faith of all content in favor of emotional experiences divorced from objective meaning. This in turn reinforces the first error, because, in order to determine which of the (naturally contradictory) feelings constitute the elements of their faith, they must label some feelings as legitimate, and others as illegitimate. They will question others’ faith and their own with the daily change of sentiment. But to feel fear or sorrow is not a mark against your faith. As C.S. Lewis writes in Perelandra, “one can believe in anesthetics and yet feel in a panic when they actually put the mask over your face.”
A few years ago I read Jane Eyre. Though I loved poor Jane, or perhaps because I loved her, I could not bring myself to approve of her romance in any fashion. The dichotomy was established wherein one suitor was an upright, honorable Christian man but entirely unconcerned with romantic love, and the other suitor had no redeeming features whatsoever save his passionate desire for Jane. It struck me that there is a third alternative. It is possible to love, and still to place that love within a rational context. It is possible to feel, and yet to know. If anything, knowledge should grant emotion confidence, and emotion should grant knowledge strength.
C.S. Lewis has put it another way:
For some, “every feeling is justified by the mere fact that it is felt: for [others], every feeling on the same ground is suspect…. We were made to be neither cerebral men nor visceral men, but Men. Not beasts nor angels but Men—things at once rational and animal.”
We live neither in Heaven, nor in Hell, but on Earth. There is Good here, and there is Evil, too. There are always reasons for happiness, and reasons for sadness. Thus, it could be said that no emotions are inappropriate. The real question is whether they are felt within the over-arching context of the Christian faith; it is possible to feel both sorrow and contentment, or both loneliness and hope, as you point out impeccably. Christians who assume that it is wrong for them to feel sad would be wise to consider that Jesus himself cried. Christians who despair should be reminded of the hope we have in Christ.
For this reason, though I agree that we would be fools to make a virtue of emotional stability, I would suggest it is an equal error to make a virtue of emotional instability. Our emotions are our “interpretation of circumstance”; Christians ever have two circumstances before them. One is their immediate reality: that we live in a fallen world. The other is our final reality, which is Christ. Thus Christians do not “grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope,” though we may yet grieve. As Christians we understand that our current circumstance is not final, and this gives us the freedom to guide our actions to serve, glorify, and rejoice in God whether we are cheerful or sad. As Paul has written, “Therefore, since we have such a hope, we are very bold.”
Biblical Christians have a foundation to be both fully emotional and fully rational, both of which flow from the common wellspring of our doctrine. Likewise, Christians most keenly know most the loss of The Fall and most firmly possess Christ’s “hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. And so it is in Christianity that the paradoxes of emotion and reason, of joy and sorrow, are united after all. It is on this foundation where the “southern swamps” and “northern mountains” meet to form the “main road.” Let us then go forth, “straying neither to the left nor to the right.”
The protagonist of a musical asks, “Is it ‘a,’ what I know, or ‘b’ what I feel?”
Why not all of the above?
I'm not usually the fiercest fan of Emily Dickinson, but I was reading a book of poetry last night and I thought this was appropriate:
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.
Post a Comment