Category Archives: Emotions

On Overload

Posted on by under Emotions, Inner Healing, Peace

Journal 2018

So it happened again. Four people today leaned on me for help and support. I love ministering to hurting people, but this was overload with no breaks in between. The hike I took helped—except for the chigger bites which are driving me crazy. I put repellent on my ankles, but I never thought to put it on my waist and elbows. Sigh.

Lord, how did you recover when the crowds became too much? I suspect you were a perfect blend of introvert and extrovert, yet You withdrew alone at night. But how did you function the next day? I need You close today, Lord. I can’t do this on my own.

VISUAL: I am a Kool-Aid container at camp, and the sweaty campers keep lining up to drain me dry. I’m a vessel, created to hold refreshment for others, but I can’t do my job if the container is empty. I know there is an endless supply of Kool-Aid, but I cannot do anything to refill myself. I wish the Kool-Aid filler would hurry up! I can’t control how much He pours in and how much the campers deplete me.

The Lord comes and lifts the container (me) and takes me to the kitchen where I get a good cleaning, inside and out. I’ve been sitting in the sun too long, the sludge starting to accumulate, and I wasn’t providing a safe and cool drink anymore.

I am now resting and drying on the counter, while I recover. I’m not ready to return to work, but I can trust the Father to keep me here till it’s time to return. Meanwhile, He sets a different jug down in my spot. Now the kids won’t get thirsty.

On Anger

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, Inner Healing

Journal 2018

When Jesus healed a man with a withered hand on the Sabbath, the Pharisees became so angry they plotted to kill Jesus. They had more regard for keeping rules than ministering to people. In turn, Jesus was deeply distressed and angry at the hardness of the Pharisees’ hearts.

I notice here two types of anger:

  1. Unrighteous, cruel, jealous, hate-filled, self-protecting
  2. Righteous, compassionate, justified, love-driven, protecting others

Russ Hudson says there are 3 responses to anger:

  1. Acting out. For example, discharging energy by raising our voice, destroying things, or using forceful aggression. We don’t really experience the anger, so we don’t get rid of it. It stays with us, and it destroys relationships.
  2. Denying it. When we fear anger in ourselves or others, we dissociate from it, leading to feelings of powerlessness, unimportance, resentment, and aggressive outbursts when it builds up.
  3. Trying to contain it, repress it, or hold it inside. This leads to sarcasm, put-downs, and terse impatience, leaving people feeling disrespected.

Anger as an emotion is not sin. It’s what we do with it that becomes destructive to ourselves and to others. Anger is usually a guardian part of our heart that covers another emotion. For example, it’s easier to feel anger than to feel fear or pain. But self-protecting anger keeps pain alive, hidden away. It’s only when we agree to let anger go that we can begin to heal.*

But what if there were a fourth response? Good creative anger, staying present in the energy of it for a while, leads to addressing the difficulties of this world. For example, Jesus stayed present with His anger when He cleared out the temple. The organization MADD (Mothers Against Drunk Driving) began with one woman’s brave decision to turn her anger and grief into action. But even righteous anger over an injustice is best handed over to God, whose job it is to make everything fair and just in His own time.

So how can you harness your anger for good? Begin to take note of your anger patterns. How does your body respond? Where do you feel the tension? Learn to recognize your pattern while it’s occurring. Do you tend to hold it inside? Let it explode onto people and things? Once you’ve identified your anger, you get to decide whether to feel it, hide it, keep it, or release it. The challenge is, according to the Scripture, there should be a shelf life on your anger: until the sun goes down. Otherwise, we give opportunity for the evil one to take advantage of us (Ephesians 4:26). What a different world this would be if we all followed this pattern!

*Sometimes a client will say, “I feel annoyed,” not realizing that anger is on a continuum from mild annoyance to full-blown rage (annoyed, cross, peeved, irritated, irked, exasperated, vexed, angry, furious, wrathful, rage-filled). These are all choice emotions to help us manage an underlying one.

On Struggling

Posted on by under Emotions, Inner Healing

Journal 2018

As I pray through a long list of people I know and love, it strikes me that every one of us struggles with something.

The chick struggles to break free of its shell. The caterpillar turned butterfly struggles out of its cocoon. The fetus struggles to exit the birth canal. The tender shoot struggles to push through the hard ground. Even the Messiah struggled.

Struggling implies hardship, straining, work, motivation, conflict, wrestling, effort to free oneself from restraint or constriction, achieving something new in the face of difficulty or resistance. Struggling strengthens us, proves us, and tests what we’re made of, and the effort is worth it when we reach the end of the race or resolve the conflict.

There is a time, however, when struggling is counterproductive. Sometimes God waits for us to stop struggling in our own power before He frees us. It’s when we relax and acknowledge our limitations that we find our greatest growth.

What has struggling taught you?

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Breathe … Just Breathe

Posted on by under Emotions, Inner Healing, Peace

Journal 2018

For months my brain has been trapped in a hyperdrive carousel, spinning round and round, up and down, speeding then slowing. It’s been fun, but I’m ready to get off. I’m weary and sad and long to return to a place of peace. I need stillness, a sanctuary. If I move to a park bench, I’m afraid someone is going to approach me to engage in conversation or ask me to play frisbee with them.

Lord, I invite You into this picture.

Jesus hits the off switch, and everything stops. Dizzy and disoriented, I collapse, unable to move. When I finally recover, I toss onto that spinning mass my schedule, my to-do list, my shoulds and ought-tos, my needs and commitments. Like little kids, if they don’t hang on, they’ll fly off and get hurt. Not my fault, but while they want me to kiss their boo boos and fetch their band aids, all I want to do is be by myself, not entertaining a passel of kids. I want to be alone with Jesus, away from this noise, clutter, and movement, but there’s nowhere to go in this park.

Jesus says, “I’ll give you a cone of silence.” (Remember the show Get Smart?) I step inside of Jesus (see Acts 17:28), and He closes the door. Suddenly everything is still and quiet. I can still hear muffled sounds, but there’s plenty of room to stretch out. There are even books on a shelf within reach. When He moves, I move, but it’s fluid, not jerky. I don’t have to make decisions.

I hum Chris Tomlin’s song “Where you stay, I’ll stay. When you move, I’ll move.” Only I’m not following Him. I’m in Him. I don’t choose where we go. It just is. I can feel my whole body relaxing. I didn’t realize my protective guardian had been so in charge. In fact, now I see that guardian had been wearing all of his armor. Before I could step into Jesus’ heart room, he had to check everything at the door, clad in just a tunic. There’s no space for all that clunky metal here where it’s soft, pillowy, and safe.

Breathe. Just breathe. Relax. Curl up in a feather bed. Sleep.

AI-generated

Life’s Brevity

Posted on by under Emotions, Scripture

Journal 2018

Teach [me] to number [my] days that [I] may gain a heart of wisdom . . . May the favor of the Lord our God rest upon [me]. Establish the work of [my] hands for [me]—yes, establish the work of [my] hands. (Psalm 90:12, 17 NIV).

Visual: I’m fidgeting on a hard and uncomfortable seat, knees pulled up to my chest in front of a large, floor-to-ceiling curtain. Why am I not in the audience? What am I waiting for?

Suddenly the curtain lifts and the show begins. Apparently I’m one of the performers in a cabaret. I wait for my cue. I’m on in . . . 3-2-1. Perform, do the best I can, enjoy the process, and then I’m off the stage, panting from the exertion as I watch the show from the other side of the stage. It’s over—only a brief participation award in the grand experience of life on this earth. My part is done. I have the rest of eternity to analyze my performance.

That’s the big picture.

But for the moment I’m still on stage. I’m just a bit player, but every character is important to the plot. I need to remember my lines, do cartwheels in time with the music, sing with the chorus, and remain quiet when others are speaking. I’m under the Director’s watchful eye. Someone steps out of line and the production halts. I sit on the edge of the stage and wait. Apparently, we’re in a rehearsal. It’s not performance night. The Director is giving instructions, making changes, fixing footing and lighting, and I sit and wait. It’s a time of rest till we’re instructed to move again, and I’m okay with that. Dancing can be fun, but it’s hard work keeping in step with the whole group. I trust the Director. He sees the whole picture. He knows what He wants to accomplish.

Time sometimes appears to speed up and sometimes it appears to slow down. What makes the difference? The intensity of the emotion, or perhaps the degree of pain? I want to learn “a heart of wisdom” and have “hands that are established” in the dailiness of life as well as in the crisis moments. To the best of my ability, I want to care for my physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual health. I fail, I make goals, I try again. I trust God to direct my steps. He knows what’s best.

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Between Worlds

Posted on by under Emotions, Inner Healing, Peace

Journal 2018

I’m in a weird place right now, caught between worlds, not sure where I am, and if I’m coming or going. I’m neither compelled to be with people nor to get tasks done. I’m not in a routine, but I still need to function. “Overwhelmed” keeps coming to mind. I won’t analyze it, but here’s what I see.

Four trips in four months (to sightsee in Israel, to visit relatives in Vancouver, BC, to attend a boarding school reunion in Dallas, TX, and to attend a 100th birthday party in Sebring, FL). The trips look like four steppingstones in a riverbank. I’ve stepped from one to the next till I’m standing on a fifth. I can’t go back in time except in my memory. I can only face forward, but the rushing water feels overwhelming, daunting. I’m frozen here. I don’t know what to do next.

I look up to see Jesus beckoning me to walk toward him. I hesitate. Will this be a step of faith like Indiana Jones, or like Peter stepping out of the boat to walk on water? The water is neither deep nor swift, so I’m not frightened. I’m just hesitant to get my clothes wet should I misstep.

And so I take off my shoes and socks and roll up my pantlegs. I want to look at my steppingstones one last time. I experienced them in haste, without slowing down to savor the scenery, and I missed something in my hurry to get to the last stone. I can’t release this jumble of images yet until I spend time with each one. Is it too late to do that or am I just supposed to move on and let it all go?

I can’t begin to list all the old and new friends I encountered on airplane rides and at each stop. I see strings attached to each person connected to my heart, and I’m overwhelmed with the memories. But I don’t have to hold them all, for I see that Jesus grasps each string. He can hand them back to me one at a time as needed to connect or reconnect. I also have photo albums and journals to contain the memories, but I need to record events as I remember them to offload them from my memory bank before they are lost. That will help.

As I continue to relive the precious memories, the stones begin to sink, including the one I’m standing on. When the water reaches ankle-height, I see a walkway to Jesus just below the surface. I run to Him, and He laughs and shouts, “Let’s dive in!” There’s no stopping now. I plunge into the water after Him. It’s peaceful in this pool, no longer a river. Or maybe it’s a pool between river points. I don’t know. I just know I want to stay here and not move on.

I glance at Jesus and see a look. Surely not worry, just more concern.

“What?”  I query. ” What is it?”

“You know there’s more work to do, don’t you? There’s more river of life to go down. You can’t stay here forever.”

“I know,” I sigh. “I know.”

“Do you trust me?” He asks.

“Of course.”

“Will you follow me when it’s time to move on?”

“Of course,” I respond.

“Good. Now let’s enjoy this rest just a little bit longer. And when it’s time, I promise to equip you for the next part of the journey.”

The Organized Mind

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions

Journal 2018

My mind is fighting itself this morning as I try to study the Word. This summer is so jam packed with travel, ministry, company, goals, and family events, it’s hard to stay present. I wake up with to-do lists in my head, with plans, ideas, and needs taking up more prefrontal cortex space than I care to give it. Feeling a little overwhelmed, my foot starts jiggling again.

I’m currently listening to a fascinating book on brain research: The Organized Mind: Thinking Straight in the Age of Information Overload, by Daniel J. Levitin. The author addresses the neurological importance of proper sleep, the inability of the brain to focus on more than one thing at a time, how multitasking actually reduces effectiveness, and the role of memory. I just wish I could retain all this information. (Click here for a summary video of the book.)

I already practice many of the principles the author suggests, but I struggle sometimes getting into the flow (as he terms it). This is when our left brain stands still and we go into right-brain mode to write, paint, or create music. When I have a lot on my mind, it’s harder to stay there.

One of my takeaways from the book is that mindless daydreaming mode is actually very purposeful. We need it. It’s almost like REM sleep where our brain sorts and searches and organizes information. We need time to daydream and not fill our minds 100% with stimuli and entertainment. What is screen time doing to my brain if I don’t ever give it a rest? If it’s not the computer, it’s the phone. If it’s not the phone, it’s the TV or iPad. So, when I wake in the morning, it’s hard to stay focused on God. My mind is going crazy trying to keep up with my schedule.

Visual: I’m balancing on the top rung of a floor-to-ceiling library ladder, randomly grabbing books off the shelves. I want to read them all, but which book do I start next? Where should I focus? How do I cram a lifetime of goals into what’s left of my short life span? I need a system, a plan. I can’t possibly read them all, and I don’t want to waste my time. I want to organize my life in an overcrowded library.

Balance

Yesterday was one of those days when I’d stretched to my limit of emotional and psychological endurance. When I get unbalanced (people versus alone time, leisure versus work), I must make adjustments to return to equilibrium. There’s my part and there’s God’s part. When I bleed over into trying to do God’s job, I take on burdens that harm me. The battle may be the Lord’s, but I must do my part and take care of my body, feed myself spiritually, and make wise decisions.

I need to leave the library for a while and stop rushing, relax, and gain some perspective. I need to be okay with not meeting a goal or a deadline. So today I think I’ll skip some of my scheduled activities, go for a walk, clean up my e-mail inbox, and organize a closet. The library books will still be there when I return.

Temperament and Triggers

Posted on by under Emotions

Journal 2018

I’ve been observing responses and reactions to life’s triggers from the perspective of different temperament types. I watched several people this week who were quick to verbally stand for right and defend the weak. I noticed others who could only see the behavior and had no patience for the wounded, making quick judgments and condemnations.

Ever since my healing journey began, I find I’m much more grace-filled toward people who struggle. It surely doesn’t excuse their responses, but I have more compassion toward those who fall or falter. I can see under or past the behavior.

On the other hand, I wish I had some people’s boldness to stand up to others to tell it like it is. Is that a built-in temperament type? I don’t keep silent now because of fear, like I used to. I just don’t have the boldness to tell people what I think they should do with their lives. Warning people that “I think you’ll regret that decision,” doesn’t come out of my mouth, and maybe it should. Calling people out on their sin or their choices takes enormous discernment, in my opinion. Maybe there’s still some codependency there, or maybe it’s just personality. Perhaps it’s the manner in which it is done that makes confronting feel uncomfortable to me.

I watched one person say to another: “Don’t do it, you’ll regret it.” My approach would have been, “Are you sure you want to do that? Have you considered that you might regret it?” One is more direct and straightforward, and perhaps that is what I’m noticing. I have an indirect approach. Both can be effective depending on the person or the recipient. God made us all different for a reason.

Slander

Posted on by under Choices, Emotions, Scripture

Journal 2020

 Rid yourself of . . . slander. I Peter 2:1

Webster defines slander as “false and damaging statements about someone.”

This verse convicts me. I never intentionally say false things about others, but I can make assumptions that might not be accurate. I know it’s not right or fair or honoring, but my words of judgment fly out when I’m feeling triggered. We are all made in the image of God, part of the same race, so when I slander another human being, I hurt myself in the process.

What is the difference, I wonder, between stating a fact about someone (e.g. he’s an alcoholic) and slandering him (e.g. you’ll never believe what Michael did yesterday…) The first may just be acknowledging the truth, while the motive of the second is clearly meant to spread gossip. Is my intent to bring this person down to my level? To delight in sharing a juicy bit of news?

I heard recently someone’s recollection of her mother—that she never said an unkind word about other people. How commendable! “If you can’t say something nice about someone, don’t say anything at all,” is often attributed to the daughter of President Theodore Roosevelt. I want my words as an older, mature woman, to protect others in my speech, not tear them down because of my stuff coming to the surface—which, in the end, merely reveals the darkness of my own heart.

I repent and ask God’s forgiveness and mercy as He teaches me to #1 work through my triggers, and #2 hold my tongue.

Do not pay attention to every word people say or you may hear your servant cursing you …. For you know in your heart that many times you yourself have cursed others. Ecclesiastes 7:21-22 (NIV)

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The Guardian

Posted on by under Emotions, Peace

Journal 2020

My schedule today is full, and I can feel the familiar and uncomfortable pressure in my stomach and tight shoulders. My head knows I have the exact number of minutes in a day required to accomplish God’s work, but part of me goes into panic, rushing, planning mode in order to keep on top of things—which, in the end, is quite counterproductive!

VISUAL: I have a Panic Guardian who’s sitting on the apex of my heart cathedral roof. “I have to stay on top of things!” he says.

How comical! No matter what logic I try to reason with him, he’s not budging. There’s a party going on below, inside where it’s cozy and warm, but no, he wants to stay up here where he can stay vigilant and survey the lay of the land. He doesn’t want to miss anything.

“Can you trust Me to watch out for you?” says Jesus. “What if I set an angel up here to keep guard?”

The Guardian ponders a moment. After all, angels have superpowers and can see farther and deeper than I can and know better the dangers out there. That thought seems to relax him a bit. “But be sure to come and get me, the moment you sense trouble!” he admonishes the guardian angel.

Angel just smiles. “That’s my job,” he replies, “and I don’t get as tired as you trying to balance on the narrow edge of a rooftop!”

My Panic Guardian goes inside the castle and surveys the feast and festivities, but he’s still on alert for any sign of trouble overhead. He can’t fully relax and participate. That’s his job, after all. I need an internal signal, he thinks. Something to alert me—like an alarm bell that will get my attention over the noise of the revelry.

And so Jesus hands him a special alarm—one that vibrates, noiseless, in his chest. How clever!

“Let’s test it!” he says to Jesus, who agrees and gives a signal to the angel to set off the alarm. Guardian flies up to the roof. “Where’s the danger?” he asks.

“There is none,” the angel replies. “You just asked to test it.”

“Oh, right.” With a quick glance around him, Guardian returns to the party, confident that he’ll be alerted when it’s time, but resting when all is calm.

The pressure dissipates, my shoulders relax, and I go on with my day in peace.

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