Category: emotion

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” Ecclesiastes 3:1

Are you still looking, still watching, still waiting for a sign – a confirmation there is more than all we see? It feels more days should have passed between the loss of God, and the possibility of a comeback. It doesn’t seem very realistic to recover from the depth of mourning triggered by the belief that God is dead and the joy, triumph, and celebration promoted at Easter.

When would you start envisioning a future after experiencing the effects of injustice, oppression, and abuse? When would you commence rebuilding a life after being stripped of every title, status, and position. When would you begin to believe again after losing your source of hope, joy, and purpose?

Currently, I’m curious how the meaning of this mysterious message has been distorted by my 2020 lens? I’m wondering what to do with slow moving emotions unmoved by an ancient text presented so factually, definitively, “scientifically”? I’m questioning how long the magnitude of the death I’ve known will consume the potential of rising again? 

“Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.” Jeremiah 33:3

Overwhelmed – that is how I feel every time I believe God speaks. Immediately you may ask, “But how do you know it is God speaking?” Well, I did just ask him a question, or I did just wonder about an idea, a plan, a person. The next thing I know – I heard a response that echoed my heart, magnified a thought, and pressed deep into my soul with a weight that can only be expressed as, “I’m overwhelmed.”

It will feel as if time stopped for an instant as the unseen made itself known. It will seem impossible to move on to the next moment as previously intended. It will leave you in a state of pure adoration – more humble and grateful than the minute prior. And regardless the words you heard, you know it was simply His way of saying, “I love you, too.” 

Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” John 4:13-14

I never knew water had so many moods. Currently it appears to be feeling a bit schizophrenic – grey near the shore, blue on the horizon, murky in the transition between. Of course, water simply reflects the dance of the sun with the clouds. Perhaps it has some distinctive features of its own to offer in the timescale of its ripples? But then again, each oscillation is dictated by the current, moon and wind.

Even in a sea, the molecules don’t have much choice for themselves – which is how I always feel in the wake of my emotions. They ebb and flow, intensify, diminish. When they combine constructively like love and joy, or peace and patience, it’s like cresting a mountain peak where the limitless view prevents any sudden appearance of the unexpected. On the other side, however, is a deep trough of anger and shame, or fear and disappointment where it’s easy to get stuck at the bottom. It’s like losing a compass in the middle of a storm and thus all direction, reason, and hope.

Even in the stillness of a flat metastable state, water is only a mirror reflecting its surroundings. It has no face of its own, it cannot rise above the surface, or go against the tide. And yet, I have not recovered from observing the dynamic flashing of its brilliance, when water sparkled like a diamond. What has more value, is more beautiful, could be more symbolic of connection, belonging, and oneness than the hydrogen bonding between two species? It is unique. It cannot be replicated. It does not conform to any known theory or description. But more miraculous than water in its physical form, is the claim it could be even more. When you no longer need to seek satisfaction in a liquid, but find a spring to quench your thirsty soul.