Praise, Pain and Healing
It's been way too long since I've been on here, but a few weeks ago, while crying in church, I felt like I had something I wanted to say.
Here's the truth. The last few years have been rough, and I can't even really tell you why. It feels like the emotional equivalent of walking pneumonia or a low grade fever. I wouldn't say it was/is depression because I don't want to flippantly use that word. But I've just been kind of "in it" off and on for the last few years. I don't say that for anything other than context. This hasn't been a debilitating kind of thing, just a struggle that comes and goes, and one of those things that seems to require me to just kind of keep going while I wrestle with not feeling like my usual self. And yes, I thought through visiting with the wonderful counselor I worked with several years ago. And I prayed thoughtfully about what might be the source of this struggle. I am not a trained professional, so I would never be silly enough to recommend that others follow my line of treatment, but for me, I have found that, at this point, my occasionally sad heart seems to be a part of my temperament that I am learning to deal with.
I say all of that for a few reasons:
1. I hope it helps to start conversations about these things. I don't think I fit the stereotype of someone dealing with depression-like symptoms. And I hope it helps someone else feel less like a freak to know that lots of us deal with these issues.
2. Going through the last few years has helped me see the need to not rely on my feelings or my heart. I know that goes against so many parts of the modern conversation, but it's true. My feelings and my heart are by far the most unreliable part of me. And many times over the last few years what saved me were conversations with myself about what the truth is. And most of the time it contradicts what I'm feeling. While common sense seems to tell me to use my emotions to make decisions, I've actually been working on changing the narrative in my head. I have to speak the truth to myself and rely less on my feelings as a way to interpret the world around me. On the simplest level, my feelings change constantly. I can't feel remotely settled if everything around me is based on my feelings. And my feelings are changed by everything from how much sleep I got the night before to the weather. They are in no way steady and certain. I've learned over the last few years to use my logic and reasoning more than my feelings.
Let me give an example: Over the last few years, it has been easy for me to give into the feeling that life sucks. But, objectively, and logically, this is not true. I have a job I love, kind friends, a church I love. Life doesn't actually suck. It just feels like it. If I let myself believe life sucks, then I start to interpret all of the data I receive through that lens. I filter out information that doesn't support my claim, and I hold tightly to any example of life sucking. But if I can stop myself and force myself to look objectively at my life, I can see the gifts God has given me. I can identify the lie running through my head. I can tell myself to hold on for a while. I can remind myself that this feeling will pass. I have to remind myself, in those moments, that my perception of reality and the actual reality are not the same. And I find that this gives me great peace. Knowing that this feeling isn't reality allows me the patience to wait for the feeling to pass. Once again, I'm not promoting this as a cure for anything or telling anyone else that this is the way to go. I'm saying that for me, in what I've been dealing with, holding on to logic has been a life saver.
That leads me to crying in church. Two weeks ago, I was having "a day". I can't explain why, and it was almost more frustrating because I kept thinking I shouldn't feel bad. It was a sunny day. It's summer time. It was a Sunday. No real reason to feel anything less than awesome. But I was "in it" that day. I really wanted to skip church, but I had altar guild duties, so I had to go. When I got to church, I knew I was in a delicate place, but I have also learned over the last few years that even on Sundays when I am in no way prepared to enter church, I need to be there. And I know it is popular to condemn doing things without the right heart, but I'm not convinced that's always bad. As you should probably say about most things, it depends. If you are going through the motions to keep up appearances or to check off a box, then going through the motions is probably bad. But if you're going through the motions because you know it is the right thing to do, and it's the right thing to do whether you feel like it or not, then maybe it's not such a bad thing. Those who condemn people without the "right heart" are probably not people who know what really being "in it" feels like. Sometimes the right heart is choosing to worship when you feel like crap or choosing to ask about someone else's week even if yours was a nightmare. So on this Sunday I came with nothing to offer. I was wrestling with God even as I drove to church, and I had nothing to give, promise or sing about.
But here's the beauty of worship. It's not about me. And this Sunday, as we began singing, I was drawn to something I desperately needed to hear--who God is. We sang Almighty
And I was reminded of the King of Kings, and of his majesty; my unsettled heart was reminded that it could rest in my King and father. As we sang By Thy Mercy
I was reminded of God's power to deliver us and our need for it. Once again, I was drawn to the truth I so desperately needed to hear. I could cry out for His mercy to deliver us. This was the Sunday after weeks of shootings in Louisiana, Minnesota, and Texas. My heart was heavy with all that had unfolded in the last few weeks in our country, and I needed to simply cry to God to deliver us (Thinking back--those events might have been the cause of being "in it".)
The songs carried on--each one pointing me to the truth about who God is. And that's what I needed. I needed to hear who He was. I had nothing to bring that day. And I couldn't figure out anything about what was going on in my head or my heart. My spirit was unsettled, and I showed up because I knew that was what I needed to do. And the reason I needed to show up to church (or one of the reasons) was because I needed to sing the truth to myself. I needed to have my soul comforted by singing the truth with my community. I needed to look around and realize we were all, collectively, calling on God's mercy. We were, collectively, reminding ourselves of God's power, and we were declaring the truth.
The tears came quickly. And it felt like a release. And it felt like a safe place for me to land while I waited out the storm. I found that declaring God's power and mercy allowed my heart and mind to rest even without real answers to what was going on with me.
Here's the gift of that particular Sunday. I wasn't asked to sing about myself. Sometimes "praise songs" are full of declarations of my love for God and how great I am at loving Him or praising Him. I find these songs frustrating because it seems impossible that every member of a congregation would be in a place to declare that on any given Sunday. And songs like those strike me as arrogant and selfish. And it's probably a lie. Any time I am asked to sing something that says I will never walk away from God or I will praise Him forever, I know I'm probably telling a lie. In the years I have left, I will probably walk away from God or refuse to praise him at least once. I pray that I always come back, but I'm a fickle human. I can't promise Him much of anything really.
It also seems silly to me to sing about me when I have so much to say about Him. When I was in college, a friend's dad asked her boyfriend why he loved her. The boyfriend said that he loved the way she made him feel. The dad did not take this well. He found it a shallow form of love. He was hoping to hear about the attributes of his daughter that this guy valued. There is also a question about what happens if she fails to make him feel that way in the future.
I find that on days like the one I'm describing I need to sing truth because songs about my feelings are unreliable. And I'm not sure my feelings about God are really worthy of a song. Not that declaring my love for God is bad. It's a good thing. But if most of our praise is about us, those are hollow words and they point me back to what I don't know at the time. And, it makes me lie in church, which seems wrong.
Here's what I think I have figured out. Any song about me runs the risk of asking me to be a hypocrite, but any song about God's unchanging character will always be true (as long as the lyrics are correct from the beginning). I can declare His names or sing about His faithfulness because I KNOW that is true every day, all day, even when my faith is flailing.
Years ago, I heard my pastor's wife discuss marriage. She mentioned that in times of frustration with her husband she found it helpful to go back and remind herself of the things she loved about her husband. I am finding that the same is true in my relationship with God. In times when I just wish He would fix things in my life or times when I can't tell what he's doing, I can meditate on what I know about him. I can preach the truth to myself, and I can sing to Him without a conflicted heart.
As I was singing with all of my heart and praying that the truth I could objectively sing about would heal my heart, I realized I wasn't the only one in need of this worship session.
That particular week was the same week the country was trying to figure out what to do with overwhelming tragedies. Everything seemed to be overwhelming and falling apart and scary and heartbreaking all at the same time. Not only did I need these reminders--our whole church needed to be drawn to God's trustworthy character. We needed to know that He is the stable force in the midst of chaos. The church can call out to the God who never changes. To the God who brings healing and hope. God didn't give quick and easy answers to the tragedies of the week, but singing about His character reminded all of us of who He is, even while we wait for God's guidance as we react to tragedy.
I left church that Sunday still unsure of many things, but knowing I could rest in Him. On this particular Sunday, the truth of God's word and the beauty of His character brought me to a place of healing, but that isn't always the case. Sometimes I sing about who God is and I hear a good sermon, and I leave feeling exactly as I did before. But that doesn't mean the day was a bust or a waste. Those days are part of the work needed to heal my hurting heart, and much like most treatment plans, some days you see results and some days the work is going on inside and will be seen later.
All this to say--sometimes I feel like crap, and I sing about who God is, and it helps me hold on.
Here's the truth. The last few years have been rough, and I can't even really tell you why. It feels like the emotional equivalent of walking pneumonia or a low grade fever. I wouldn't say it was/is depression because I don't want to flippantly use that word. But I've just been kind of "in it" off and on for the last few years. I don't say that for anything other than context. This hasn't been a debilitating kind of thing, just a struggle that comes and goes, and one of those things that seems to require me to just kind of keep going while I wrestle with not feeling like my usual self. And yes, I thought through visiting with the wonderful counselor I worked with several years ago. And I prayed thoughtfully about what might be the source of this struggle. I am not a trained professional, so I would never be silly enough to recommend that others follow my line of treatment, but for me, I have found that, at this point, my occasionally sad heart seems to be a part of my temperament that I am learning to deal with.
I say all of that for a few reasons:
1. I hope it helps to start conversations about these things. I don't think I fit the stereotype of someone dealing with depression-like symptoms. And I hope it helps someone else feel less like a freak to know that lots of us deal with these issues.
2. Going through the last few years has helped me see the need to not rely on my feelings or my heart. I know that goes against so many parts of the modern conversation, but it's true. My feelings and my heart are by far the most unreliable part of me. And many times over the last few years what saved me were conversations with myself about what the truth is. And most of the time it contradicts what I'm feeling. While common sense seems to tell me to use my emotions to make decisions, I've actually been working on changing the narrative in my head. I have to speak the truth to myself and rely less on my feelings as a way to interpret the world around me. On the simplest level, my feelings change constantly. I can't feel remotely settled if everything around me is based on my feelings. And my feelings are changed by everything from how much sleep I got the night before to the weather. They are in no way steady and certain. I've learned over the last few years to use my logic and reasoning more than my feelings.
Let me give an example: Over the last few years, it has been easy for me to give into the feeling that life sucks. But, objectively, and logically, this is not true. I have a job I love, kind friends, a church I love. Life doesn't actually suck. It just feels like it. If I let myself believe life sucks, then I start to interpret all of the data I receive through that lens. I filter out information that doesn't support my claim, and I hold tightly to any example of life sucking. But if I can stop myself and force myself to look objectively at my life, I can see the gifts God has given me. I can identify the lie running through my head. I can tell myself to hold on for a while. I can remind myself that this feeling will pass. I have to remind myself, in those moments, that my perception of reality and the actual reality are not the same. And I find that this gives me great peace. Knowing that this feeling isn't reality allows me the patience to wait for the feeling to pass. Once again, I'm not promoting this as a cure for anything or telling anyone else that this is the way to go. I'm saying that for me, in what I've been dealing with, holding on to logic has been a life saver.
That leads me to crying in church. Two weeks ago, I was having "a day". I can't explain why, and it was almost more frustrating because I kept thinking I shouldn't feel bad. It was a sunny day. It's summer time. It was a Sunday. No real reason to feel anything less than awesome. But I was "in it" that day. I really wanted to skip church, but I had altar guild duties, so I had to go. When I got to church, I knew I was in a delicate place, but I have also learned over the last few years that even on Sundays when I am in no way prepared to enter church, I need to be there. And I know it is popular to condemn doing things without the right heart, but I'm not convinced that's always bad. As you should probably say about most things, it depends. If you are going through the motions to keep up appearances or to check off a box, then going through the motions is probably bad. But if you're going through the motions because you know it is the right thing to do, and it's the right thing to do whether you feel like it or not, then maybe it's not such a bad thing. Those who condemn people without the "right heart" are probably not people who know what really being "in it" feels like. Sometimes the right heart is choosing to worship when you feel like crap or choosing to ask about someone else's week even if yours was a nightmare. So on this Sunday I came with nothing to offer. I was wrestling with God even as I drove to church, and I had nothing to give, promise or sing about.
But here's the beauty of worship. It's not about me. And this Sunday, as we began singing, I was drawn to something I desperately needed to hear--who God is. We sang Almighty
And I was reminded of the King of Kings, and of his majesty; my unsettled heart was reminded that it could rest in my King and father. As we sang By Thy Mercy
I was reminded of God's power to deliver us and our need for it. Once again, I was drawn to the truth I so desperately needed to hear. I could cry out for His mercy to deliver us. This was the Sunday after weeks of shootings in Louisiana, Minnesota, and Texas. My heart was heavy with all that had unfolded in the last few weeks in our country, and I needed to simply cry to God to deliver us (Thinking back--those events might have been the cause of being "in it".)
The songs carried on--each one pointing me to the truth about who God is. And that's what I needed. I needed to hear who He was. I had nothing to bring that day. And I couldn't figure out anything about what was going on in my head or my heart. My spirit was unsettled, and I showed up because I knew that was what I needed to do. And the reason I needed to show up to church (or one of the reasons) was because I needed to sing the truth to myself. I needed to have my soul comforted by singing the truth with my community. I needed to look around and realize we were all, collectively, calling on God's mercy. We were, collectively, reminding ourselves of God's power, and we were declaring the truth.
The tears came quickly. And it felt like a release. And it felt like a safe place for me to land while I waited out the storm. I found that declaring God's power and mercy allowed my heart and mind to rest even without real answers to what was going on with me.
Here's the gift of that particular Sunday. I wasn't asked to sing about myself. Sometimes "praise songs" are full of declarations of my love for God and how great I am at loving Him or praising Him. I find these songs frustrating because it seems impossible that every member of a congregation would be in a place to declare that on any given Sunday. And songs like those strike me as arrogant and selfish. And it's probably a lie. Any time I am asked to sing something that says I will never walk away from God or I will praise Him forever, I know I'm probably telling a lie. In the years I have left, I will probably walk away from God or refuse to praise him at least once. I pray that I always come back, but I'm a fickle human. I can't promise Him much of anything really.
It also seems silly to me to sing about me when I have so much to say about Him. When I was in college, a friend's dad asked her boyfriend why he loved her. The boyfriend said that he loved the way she made him feel. The dad did not take this well. He found it a shallow form of love. He was hoping to hear about the attributes of his daughter that this guy valued. There is also a question about what happens if she fails to make him feel that way in the future.
I find that on days like the one I'm describing I need to sing truth because songs about my feelings are unreliable. And I'm not sure my feelings about God are really worthy of a song. Not that declaring my love for God is bad. It's a good thing. But if most of our praise is about us, those are hollow words and they point me back to what I don't know at the time. And, it makes me lie in church, which seems wrong.
Here's what I think I have figured out. Any song about me runs the risk of asking me to be a hypocrite, but any song about God's unchanging character will always be true (as long as the lyrics are correct from the beginning). I can declare His names or sing about His faithfulness because I KNOW that is true every day, all day, even when my faith is flailing.
Years ago, I heard my pastor's wife discuss marriage. She mentioned that in times of frustration with her husband she found it helpful to go back and remind herself of the things she loved about her husband. I am finding that the same is true in my relationship with God. In times when I just wish He would fix things in my life or times when I can't tell what he's doing, I can meditate on what I know about him. I can preach the truth to myself, and I can sing to Him without a conflicted heart.
As I was singing with all of my heart and praying that the truth I could objectively sing about would heal my heart, I realized I wasn't the only one in need of this worship session.
That particular week was the same week the country was trying to figure out what to do with overwhelming tragedies. Everything seemed to be overwhelming and falling apart and scary and heartbreaking all at the same time. Not only did I need these reminders--our whole church needed to be drawn to God's trustworthy character. We needed to know that He is the stable force in the midst of chaos. The church can call out to the God who never changes. To the God who brings healing and hope. God didn't give quick and easy answers to the tragedies of the week, but singing about His character reminded all of us of who He is, even while we wait for God's guidance as we react to tragedy.
I left church that Sunday still unsure of many things, but knowing I could rest in Him. On this particular Sunday, the truth of God's word and the beauty of His character brought me to a place of healing, but that isn't always the case. Sometimes I sing about who God is and I hear a good sermon, and I leave feeling exactly as I did before. But that doesn't mean the day was a bust or a waste. Those days are part of the work needed to heal my hurting heart, and much like most treatment plans, some days you see results and some days the work is going on inside and will be seen later.
All this to say--sometimes I feel like crap, and I sing about who God is, and it helps me hold on.
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