There is a moment here tonight to complete the notes started last week. We are a household of tired people. My younger boys are completing their work for the day- history, literature, and guitar practice- and I hope to see them tucked in by 9PM. Gone are the days when bedtimes were predictable. Michael has a late night with an English paper due tomorrow and a math test to take before his 7AM class, while Olivia plans on doing some exercise before setting up for her day of work/internship. Jon is at a meeting this evening. Here I sit with my workout clothes and apron, typing.
We’ve had some weather recently in our part of the world. That is to say, there’s been a little change from the near constant sunny and perfect temp to coldish and wet. It seems ridiculous to say and almost like an insult to those enduring actual long, bleak months, but this “winter” seems to be dragging on!
The parts I like best about all the rain is how the world seems to be pressure washed clean and the ground is sprouting greenery in abundance. The urge to be in the wild has been strong, so this past holiday Monday we took the opportunity to romp around in the wild.
We stopped on our drive up to collect moss and fern for the boys' terrariums. We later discovered that the road was washed out; we had a grand time slipping and bumping precariously along to the trailhead.
Nature escapes are escapes indeed. It’s a break from the constant, never-ending tasks of life. It’s a place to just be, a place to exhale and breathe anew. For as long as I can remember, nature has been a safe place to feel, or not feel, to think, or not think. Whatever is needed deep in my spirit, nature is like a gentle balm that nurtures my being. It’s a place where I don’t have to just do the next thing, but simply let enjoyment and restoration have its way. This is weird to most people, I’m sure, but how thankful I am to know such a place exists for my well-being.
“Just do the next thing.” This has been a motto for me when the tasks seem overwhelming, when the immediate needs are beyond my ability to meet, or when the sorrows of life inundate. I believe this motto was popularized by Elisabeth Elliot in years past. It was a calming phrase when my kids were little and when chaos seemed to describe my daily existence. “Just do the next thing.” I’d tell myself to just get up and work, to focus on the task at hand instead of worry about the enormity of all that needed to be done; to keep moving, to disregard exhaustion; to strategize and plan for the sake of maximizing efficiency; to meet needs as they came, triage and prioritize when they came in waves. Then when my head would hit the pillow at night, and many things were left undone, I’d know that I was only responsible for doing my best. If I had kept myself from slacking off, then I could have confidence I had done everything in my power to faithfully carry out my work.
I’m still a lot like that.
“Just go.”
“Just do it.”
“Next thing.”
“Push.”
“You can do this.”
“Don’t stop.”
This mental discipline has been a huge help to me. It’s a mental discipline that says, “Do what you’ve committed to doing without thinking of why you don’t feel like doing it.” In other words, “Stop thinking about how you feel about it.”
I’ve come to learn that my feelings want to bully my resolve to accomplish a goal, until my mind begins to justify why I should give up. If I’m not careful, I can then give in to what my mind is telling me. On the other hand, I’ve also learned that if I succeed in keeping my feelings and mental dialogue in check, I will be surprised and thankful for what is actually possible. Side note: Running has made this particularly plain to me, and I love how discipline in one area of life is reflected in others.
My kids see me doing this as a way of life. For instance, with running and the unfavorable recent weather, my words come out forbidding my complaint and urging resolve. The clouds loom dark and near, my skin protests in goose-bumps, and my kids hear me say, “I just can’t think about it. I’m just going to go.” And I do.
Again and again recently, I find myself miles from home pressing my body into the wind, numb, but moving. Then the rain comes, sometimes like cold crocodile tears, or like prolonged, sloshy, cold mist, or like sharp needles jabbing with the cold Pacific wind. The other day was my short, but intense, running day; I had intervals and hills to conquer. I misjudged the sunny sky and wore shorts and a t-shirt… and then got pelted with hail.
Sometimes I wish for someone to come rescue me, someone to drive by and offer a ride, or my husband or daughter to come find me. But then I wonder if the joy of finishing despite the discomfort is better.
Running often makes me think of life: Maybe God doesn’t rescue us from trial because he knows perseverance is better for us than rescue. Or maybe rescue only comes after perseverance has been learned- two gifts rather than just one. Probably there’s no easy, blanket statement answer and we must just press on.
I’m good at commitment. Is that OK to say? I see that I probably stick to my commitments a little more resolutely than most, and sometimes I would do better to be more relaxed, less personally invested, and more accepting of the fact that not all commitments are equal. I can be committed to commitment.
But I am learning there are times when just doing the next thing isn’t best. There are times when the resolute mind must give way to feeling; the mind must take into account the senses, the gut feelings, the emotions. There can be huge problems with thinking without feeling. God created both internal faculties for our good. Feelings have to inform our thinking, or we can become numb to life and robotic, even becoming legalists hardened to grace.
God doesn’t desire mere sacrifice. Scripture passages that comes to mind right now are regarding the sacrifices of thanksgiving and the sacrifice of a repentant heart. These are precious to God. They are both sacrifices that are expressed by feelings far more than action. Action that is pure and without hypocrisy will then follow the feeling.
I think we err greatly when we believe and teach, “Just obey. It doesn’t matter how you feel about it.” Why doesn’t it matter? Surely God wants our feelings to be rightly aligned. It was so helpful for me to realize that God’s sanctifying power reaches even to my emotions. Of course we must not let our emotions rule us, but that doesn’t mean they don’t matter.
Feelings matter tremendously. For example, how your children feel about your rules and commands do matter. Yes, obedience must be required, but conversations about feelings are not to be view as a threat to parental authority. The weak parent is personally treatened and seeks to suppress opposing feelings; the wise parent seeks to draw out the deep things of the heart. What if you found out something about your child’s heart that leads to closeness in relationship, or deeper conversation about eternal things? What if allowing them to verbalize their feelings exposes YOUR sin of harshness, unreasonable expectation, pride in wielding your parental power, or tendency to exasperate them? Wouldn’t that be far better to know?
Reject emotion and you reject the person. Think about that.
Also, we can easily settle into routines of merely
doing without
feeling in marriage: doing what we've mentally learned we should do, but doing it without affection. We “obey” God in the sense that we are performing our marital roles, but we can do them entirely without emotion. I’m pretty certain that is never what God intended in relationships. Is it possible to love without feeling? I’m so tired of hearing that love is an action! I don’t want such a puny little love of duty. No. Train your mind and heart to cultivate loving feelings. Pray earnestly for it, with perseverance. Don’t settle for being at the mercy of feelings haphazardly coming or going, or believing that nothing can be done.
I feel compelled to pose the question because of the prevalence of certain situations: What about the toxic relationship wherein your feelings are screaming at you in desperation, your whole being is coming apart because of the wicked (demonic) behavior of another? Should it still be mind-over-feeling?! God didn’t give you feelings about the situation merely to torment you further.
Thoughts and emotions are both vital, God-created both elements of our personhood for our good and well-being. We are not meant to employ one over the other.
I have erred greatly in this area over the course of my life. Emotional preservation and responses became default patterns in situations where preservation was no longer needed. When backs turned and there was fear, hurt, and loss of security, I intentionally ignored feeling. I learned to “Just do the next thing.” I taught myself to suppress negative feeling, to reject emotion. How evident this was to me when I recently heard myself repeat out loud, “Just don’t feel,” in the midst of a painful situation.
I don’t think we ever succeed at this scheme of not feeling; we only damage our willingness and ability to experience ALL of the rich array of emotion we’ve been gifted, even the good.
But we must never lose hope. We are never too far gone, too far down the road of life to learn anew. There is always opportunity to unlearn or relearn. We hope in God who creates new life— he is the giver of life and he gives it abundantly. And we can find further hope in knowing that God binds himself to us through a promise (a binding contract that has no basis in emotion), AND a loving, personal, emotion-filled relationship. He has pledged to me his love, and he is shaping me more and more into his image so that I can emulate him and love like him.
I don’t pretend to have the answers for how to manage thinking and feeling... or anything else in life. Life and circumstances are complex. All I know for sure is that I am desperately needy for help!
I have hope in God: He helps his children through his Spirit and his Word, and by the use of my mind AND my feelings, I can follow with perseverance and faith.
~Katherine
