Much has been written about giving the voiceless a voice. Just a few days ago, as our nation observed the 150th anniversary of the Emancipation Proclamation, President Obama spoke up for the victims of human trafficking in our world today. I, too, desire to champion the oppressed. Or maybe I should say the suppressed. I want to give voice to the part of our beings that is oftentimes hidden or hurting: our emotions.
Our emotions are simply visceral responses to the stressors of life. I liken them to the dashboard on my old Volvo wagon. In the years my kids were in grade school, my personal-time clock started ticking the second I left carpool line. My hope was to get everything done before 3:00. As a visual processor, I had not only my To Do list, but lots of other reminders crowding my dashboard. Coupons, empty prescription vials, and repair claim checks occupied the space between the dashboard dials and me. One day, with the usual array of reminders onboard, the temperature gauge indicated that my engine was overheated. Oblivious, I drove all over town, ticking items off my list as I went. At 3:05, only a block away from the school, I heard a sickening “clunk” as the engine died. Only then did I realize I had made a costly mistake. Do you think $8,000 is too much to pay for this valuable life lesson? That is the unfortunate truth about what it cost to get my car up and running again.
I don’t want to make the same mistake with my soul. If the role of my emotions is like those warning lights, my desire is to learn to use them as indicators of what is going on underneath. What does it cost me when I fail to pay attention to them? In my grim determination to feel better fast or to be a good sport, I lose the opportunity to love myself well, to become more whole.
My instinct is to dismiss my feelings with excuses of fatigue, hormones, or weak faith. Getting busy with a task allows me to replace my unwanted emotions with a sense of being in control. After a lifetime in the Bible Belt, I know how I should feel. I’m quick to run straight to a Scripture and plaster it over the problem. I resist feeling the feelings or allowing myself the time necessary to healthily process them.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not suggesting we live by our emotions—been there, done that, and wouldn’t recommend it. In that scenario, we become slaves to our feelings instead of letting them serve us. But God has something better in mind than either avoiding or idolizing our feelings. As our Creator, His design is for our emotions to have a voice. As our Redeemer, He offers us hope.
Observe the way Jesus responded when someone He loved was hurting. We see Him in John 11 going to the tomb of His dear friend Lazarus. Mary and Martha, the sisters of the deceased, are doubly grieved. Not only is their brother dead, but they feel deeply disappointed that Jesus did not come in time to heal him. Knowing full well that He intended to raise Lazarus from the dead, Jesus interrupts His march toward the impending miracle. He takes the time to listen, to let their heartache be heard, and to weep with them. His message to them (and to us) is that our feelings matter.
Jesus wept.
John 11:35