Destination Discipline

“It’s just emotion that’s taking me over.” The Bee Gees

Have you ever experienced an emotion so strong you lost your appetite? To be honest, it’s rare for me. I generally “eat my feelings”. Upset? Chocolate. Sad? Ice cream. Pissed off? French Fries. I learned from a psychiatrist recently that carbohydrates produce soothing endorphins in the brain which is why people eat when they are having intense emotional responses. This carb-induced physiological process is powerful. Therefore, I know something is very wrong when I’m so upset while trying to eat it immediately comes back up. It’s almost like my body is resisting the need to be comforted.

“O afflicted one, storm-tossed and not comforted…” – Isaiah 54:11

Sometimes an event happens that causes so much pain we resist comfort. Our brains become so overwhelmed that we feel like we are falling into the abyss and all we can do is grope and flail and scream. And when someone reaches out to take hold of us, we bite, claw and grapple.

Years ago, I stepped into an elevator with a co-worker and was startled by her lean frame. She had gone from “pleasantly plump” to “sleek and suave”. I was impressed! I said, “Wow. You’ve lost weight. You look amazing. What’s your secret?”

“My daughter has been in the hospital.” She said.

I said, “Is she going to be okay?”

“She’s not out of the woods yet.”

She fidgeted uncomfortably, obviously eager to escape my prying questions. Meanwhile, I stood there feeling foolish. I never knew anyone who lost weight from emotional trauma.

There is no way to prepare for pain. When the hammer falls, the broken capillaries rupture and a bruise forms. Whether it’s physical or emotion, pain is a “little death.” It is the loss of something important to us. It might be something as simple as our dignity (after embarrassment) or as complex as the loss of a child or parent. It’s important to know our emotions are intricately tied to our physical processes and we therefore don’t always have control over them. Much the same way we can’t control the rhythm of our heart, we can’t regulate the throb of pain as it shakes our psyche.

Why then do we set expectations for grief or pain? We all process it differently. As unique individuals, we are all responding to our environment and the best any of us can do is to feel, process and heal. What may take one person a day, may take another person decades. Therefore, we must show up with compassion and kindness for the journey each of us are on. We shouldn’t compare our journey to that of our neighbor and we shouldn’t criticize or critique the way others respond to a traumatic event.

This played out for me recently when a family member told me my child’s emotional issues were my fault. They told me if I had fixed my own issues, my child wouldn’t be where he is. I questioned this view and was assured that if I were following their prescribed method, my child would level out. This short-sighted opinion turned me upside down. First, I’m on my own journey, and while I’m doing my best to function in a broken, fallen world, I am not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. Even if I were perfect, I can’t control my child’s unique response to his environment. I can’t control the chemicals in his brain any more than I can control the air he breathes or the food that goes into his body. I could saturate him with an environment of perfect love (that never loses a temper and always corrects with positive intent while providing affirmation) and he would still falter. That is because we are imperfect people living in an imperfect world. Why then do we set such unrealistic expectations for each other? He has not learned to temper his emotions. I am trying my best to teach him.

Our culture is entirely too focused on the aesthetic. We celebrate the kid with the graduation robe and the beautiful hair and makeup and the perfect grade, but we give little credence to the child who stumbles with relationships, succumbs to peer pressure, and lies. It’s almost as if we forget they are little humans. It’s almost as if we cast a wary eye on the “bad kids” forgetting the best any of us can do is learn from our mistakes. One is not better than the other; they just are. They are as worthy of love, care, and consideration as the other and shouldn’t be cast out—or worse—maligned. In fact, these are the kids that need MORE love, MORE care, MORE consideration. They are struggling with complex emotions they don’t know how to process and they need our help to teach them how to respond.

I wish carbs fixed all the problems in the world. It would be so much easier. Lose your job? Candy bar. All better. Alas, we are dependent on the love of others to support us when we are struggling. When those support structures collapse, we are left with a life not worth living. So please, don’t desert the people in your life who think differently or respond inappropriately. I know it’s in fashion to put up boundaries and eliminate certain people from our lives—but it’s not always the right thing to do. We do it because it’s easier than staying. Love stays.

When I am struggling with people, I remember God sees me as I am and loves me. He would never leave or forsake me.

I often get frustrated with the people I love when they do things I don’t like or say things that are hurtful. It takes more strength and courage to walk towards someone we disagree with and say, “I’m not leaving.” This is hard when emotions are swelling like the tide. But if I am loved by a God who “will never leave me or forsake me,” doesn’t that give me the confidence to do the same?

I haven’t been very strong lately. One could say I’m stumbling and scraping my knees a lot. After all, I am only human. But I am learning that real love perseveres. It transcends emotion. It fights for the good and sees the beautiful heart beneath the muddy façade.

I often don’t want to overcome my emotions. I want to give in to them and flail and thrash. Today, I choose to embrace them. By God’s grace, I will feel and I will heal. I hope my dear reader will try to do the same.

Have you ever longed for security? Has the ground you walk on been uneven and swampy? Do you take one step only to see your foot disappear into a bog of quicksand? Just when you think you have solid footing, you tumble headlong into a pond filled with rotting fishes? Did you think, “Man, I should have smelled that coming!” Or is it just me?

I have been practicing my French lately, as in, “pardon my French.” These little articulations of discomfort reveal the unsteadiness of my footing as French is not my native tongue. I’ve been trying to navigate an obstacle course of adverse events without breaking my leg and frankly, I have sprained both ankles. I like to consider myself a pretty hardy individual but I’m plumb tuckered out. I find myself praying, “Help, I just need help,” a lot more frequently than I care to admit. And it’s not because I’m a pansy. (Though I do like pansies – especially the yellow and violet colored kind.)

Several important questions have come to my mind as I consider my life and my place in the world. First, can I live up to my own high standards? It’s so easy for me to think about what other people are doing–or rather, should be doing–and form an opinion that shapes my attitude and behavior toward them. Second, can I extend grace to people the way God has extended grace to me? I often have this idea that everyone should be disciplined or they are just lazy. It is much easier to point fingers than take responsibility for my own actions. Which leads me to the last question, do I have the strength to surrender to God’s will for my life?

Why is this happening to me?

Someone wiser than myself might respond, “Why not me?” But when God’s boot squishes my face into the gravel, I would like an explanation. That doesn’t mean I’m going to get one, but while I’m coughing up blood, those questions just sort of necessarily intermingle with the fluids.

The thing is, I have been praying for something to change and it hasn’t. Because of that, I frequently doubt God’s goodness. I “kick against the goads” so to speak (see Acts 26:12-18). God is pointing me to move in one direction, but I keep trying to avoid His sharp, pointy stick. He is inevitably forced to push me to the ground with a simple question, “Margaret, what’s up? Do you want to follow me or not?”

My initial gut reaction is, “I’m not sure.” Because I’d rather walk on the easy path where there are gumdrop cobblestones and licorice arm rails and lollipop signs pointing to sugary (ignorance is) bliss. I find that I despise the discipline of the lord and grow weary when reproved by Him (Hebrews 12:5) because I have forgotten who He is.

Who is God?

“Who is this who darkens counsel by words without knowledge? Dress for action like a man; I will question you, and you make it known to me. Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding. Who determined its measurements–surely you know! Or who stretched the line upon it? On what were its bases sunk, or who laid its cornerstone, when the morning stars sang together and all the songs of God shouted for joy?” – Job 38:2-7

I am not a god, though I have frequently tried to be. I think my way is the best way and especially, I don’t think my heart is deceitful above all things and desperately wicked. I figure I know best and that’s that. Basically, I am in need of a little instruction. God knows this. He also knows I’m resistant to correction. Like Job and his friends, I have a fundamental misunderstanding of God. I disrespect His power, His holiness and His right understanding of the way things are in His universe.

Annie Dillard gives an interesting account in her famous book, The Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. “What else is going on right this minute while ground water creeps under my feet? The galaxy is careening in a slow, muffled widening. If a million solar systems are born every hour, then surely hundreds burst into being as I shift my weight to the other elbow. The sun’s surface is now exploding; other stars implode and vanish, heavy and black, out of sight. Meteorites are arcing to earth invisibly all day long. On the planet the winds are blowing: the polar easterlies, the westerlies, the northeast and southeast trades. Somewhere, someone under full sail is becalmed, in the horse latitudes, in the doldrums; in the northland, a trapper is maddened, crazed, by the eerie scent of the chinook, the snow-eater, a wind that can melt two feet of snow in a day. The pampero blows, and the tramontane, and the Boro, sirocco, levanter, mistral. Lick a finger: feel the now.”

I have made my experience of the universe too small. Why have I only focused on me? As if my experience of the world is all there is. Not only have I wrongly set my eyes in the mirror, but I have darkened my gaze to the beauty and mystery of the world around me. Where does life spring forth from? What makes the snake slither? How are the clouds shaped? Why does the earth have to move at all? It is always in motion. And why is it circular instead of square or oval or … flat?

I don’t have an answer to these questions, and I won’t. But rather than focus on these glorious mysteries and the magic in the world around me, I’m busy crying about transient things. I have been cursing when I should have been marveling. Behold what manner of love the Father has given to me that I should be called a child of God. And so I am! I am loved. Cherished. Precious in the sight of my creator – and flawed by sin. He wants to remake me in the image of His Son but I’m chasing after pots of fools gold at the end of fluorescent rainbows. I say I want security, but I already have it. I was purchased with the blood of His only son. So why am I trying to kick him in the shins and run away?

The pain in life is a reminder of what a broken, fallen world we live in. “Therefore, we must pay much closer to attention to what we have heard, lest we drift away from it. For since the message declared by angels proved to be reliable, and every transgression or disobedience received a just retribution, how shall we escape if we neglect such a great salvation? It was declared at first by the Lord, and it was attested to us by those who heard, while God also bore witness by signs and wonders and various miracles and by gifts of the Holy Spirit distributed according to his will.” (Hebrews 2:1-4)

If I am brave enough to recognize that He is God and I am not, I must surrender to His will in order to claim the security He promises. There are no coincidences. His sovereign will is always done. Nothing occurs apart from his sight, therefore, like Job, I repent in dust and ashes.

I have been trying to control people and situations, when I can’t even control myself. How foolish I have been. Am I the only one?

There are some very real tragedies in life that cloud my view of God. But the very essence of faith is trusting what I cannot see. Therefore, I must shift my gaze to Heaven. I must trust that God’s word is true and is no lie; He is a shield for all who take refuge in Him. The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear Him and delivers them. (Psalm 34).

My friend, if you have been kicking against the goads, as I have, let me remind you who is stronger and mightier and more loving than you could ever imagine. He loves us too much to leave us as we were. Surrender is sweet when we trust the Lord. And He is faithful who promised. He will never permit the righteous to be moved. And we are only righteous by the blood of His son, who laid down His life for us.

“A fool’s lips walk into a fight, and his mouth invites a beating.” – Proverbs 18:6

One of the great joys of parenting is experiencing the world through the eyes of one’s child. A piece of bread tossed into the serrated beak of snow-white duck, the sweet red, white and blue popsicle dripping from a sticky chin onto hot pavement, or the grin from eyes to ears while holding ones first fluffy pet – these are memories that resonate through time like the clink of glasses on New Year’s Eve.

In a similar fashion, however, are the pains of a child whose heart is breaking. One never really forgets the first horror of realizing a friend is not a friend but instead a vile enemy. There are hot tears, gut wrenching sobs, and the numbness of a heart that has gone cold but still continues to beat.

When I was in junior high I had a friend who enjoyed tormenting other children. In my innocence I joined with her in a cruel joke to a mutual friend. The joke was to ignore our friend for no reason and pretend she didn’t exist. My friend suggested the prank and I went along because I didn’t want to be contrary and jeopardize her affection for me. The prank lasted only a few hours before our friend was hurt and crying. The next thing I knew, everyone was angry with me because they had been told it was all my idea. They attacked me and chased me into the restroom where they berated and terrorized me while the girl whose idea it was stood back and smiled. It was a terrible lesson in treachery – both of my own guilt and of the wiles of a person who gets off on picking a fight. Unfortunately, I spent years under the thrall of this girl and ended up in many foolish situations before I learned a true friend doesn’t behave in such a manner.

It’s strange to be an adult and watch my child go through a similar scenario. To see the hot tears, the frustration, the misunderstanding of why someone loves you one day and hates you the next is…horrible. Last week they were hanging out at the arcade and this week parents with no scruples are calling the police. Try as I might to protect my children, there is no escape from people with evil intention.

“A fools mouth is his ruin, and his lips are a snare to his soul.” – Proverbs 18:7

“Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruits.” – Proverbs 18:21

I feel strange searching for meaning in the ruins of a tattered relationship. What lessons can we learn? What hope can we find for the future? Do we guard our heart in order to protect ourselves from future hurt by barring the gates to new friends? I find myself turning over conversations in my head wondering how things might be different, how I could affect a different outcome. But the results are the same. The pain remains. It’s bad enough as an adult, but to see a child suffer is the worst kind of torment.

I find there really is no immunization for heartache. To love is to risk. But I also find that to forgive truly is sublime. It does no good to cling to bitterness or harbor ill will. Those who are contemptuous drive a stake through their own heart and that is something we cannot remove. But we can let go of the pain and move forward with a clean conscience. This is what I strive to teach my child; love is a beautiful thing. We should never regret giving the gift of love no matter how the relationship ends. We are not responsible for how people respond to us, only how we treat them. Does it hurt? Yes. Can we learn from it? Yes. Can we heal? With God’s help, yes.

I sit here with the pain of past relationships ricocheting through my mind like a bullet. Memories fade but don’t generally evaporate. So I open my bible and I pray. And I remember the words that comfort me when the darkness envelopes my heart and mind:

“A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.” – Proverbs 18:24

I know I am both perpetrator and victim. I’ve done my share of wounding and asking forgiveness. Therefore, I too must forgive. And though we walk through the ruins of a relationship gone wrong, we will not stop loving. Jesus made a better way by His blood on the cross and that is the path I choose to take.

Freddy Mercury once sang, “Empty spaces, what are we living for? Abandoned places,
I guess we know the score. On and on, does anybody know what we are looking for?”

We are looking for love. And I believe we only find it through forgiveness and grace. We just have to keep fighting for it. No matter what.