Feelings are a theological nuisance... Or Not. Part 2

Like I've mentioned in earlier posts (see Holiness? How old fashioned or I'm only human or You can change but not...) I'm currently working my way through a book called You can Change that's helping me fight my idols. Dum dum dum.

What I haven't mentioned that one of my idols is that of academic success. Now, for those of you who don't know me, I'm a bit of a geek, a nerd, someone who is very interested in what she studies, and therefore works very hard at it. With relatively good results. So one of the idols I'd created in her head was of getting one of the awesome scholarships or bursaries for overseas studies. So you can imagine the minor existential crisis I had when I found out that I hadn't gotten any calls for follow-up interviews. And coming as it did during a time of idol-smashing, I was already in a fragile state of mind, and even more frustrated and upset than I thought I would have been. There was much wailing. Even more, gnashing of teeth. But the chapter of You can Change that I read later that day put everything into an amusingly ironic light:

Why do we do the things we do? Why do we get angry, frustrated, irritable or depressed or, for that matter, happy, excited or content? Why do we lie, steal, fight and gossip? Why do we dream, fantasize, envy and plot? Why do we overwork and overeat?... (72)

Angry? Frustrated? Irritable? Depressed? Check, check, check, check, check. All of those described me at that moment.

And here's the answer:

According to the Bible, the source of all human behaviour and emotions is the heart (73).

Like Tim Chester points out, our feelings can therefore be used diagnostically to indicate whether our hearts are in the right place. For me, my overthetop reaction showed me clearly that my heart had made too much of this idol, believing that it was what I deserved and what I needed in my future. I should have, instead, been trusting in God's sovereignty, and His plan for my life, no matter how scary it may seem at times. Eek!

So Part 2 on Feelings would conclude: Feelings are a great theological tool for heart-diagnosis :)

What can I say at the end of this two-part thought? I leave you with the challenge of not being overwhelmed by your emotions, but using them to see if God is using them to point back towards Him, or if they can be used to show you about the state of your relationship with Christ.

Which is easy to say now when I'm sitting nice and cosy, happy in my bed, but it's another case when you're actually mad and fuming. Good luck with that ;)

Feelings are a theological nuisance... Or Not. Part 1

setting: a high-ceilinged church hall
occupants: a mix of students, dressed in summer clothes, with the odd jersey or cardigan here and there. Some are seated at long rows of tables, with plates of food in front of many, and empty plates in front of others. A few students are lounging on big couches in the one corner, while others are moving around in the kitchen, serving food to a handful of students that are queueing.

enter, one female student. pan to thoughts (yes, this is a super-awesome camera that can pan to thoughts).

Me: "Gosh, I'm glad I made it. Hmm.. Yeah. Maybe I should go say hi to.. Nah. Flip. Why hasn't anyone noticed that I'm here? Oh. Hmmm. Oh, there's a group of people I know. They seemed to be huddled in a tight conversation. Would be weird if I just barged in. Oh, So-and-so is looking at m.. Oh, no he's not. Oh. Okay. Maybe I should just go stand in the food queue. Okay. Oh, this sucks. Why do I always have to be the one that makes effort? Why can't other people make effort with me (flashbacks to events earlier in the week, to the music of Lord of The Rings, where said student is shown helping, meeting up with, encouraging other students). I've sacrificed so much for these people! Why are they just ignoring me??!?!? Me, me, me, look at me! Boohoo."

CUT!

So there I was. Finding myself unwanted and unloved. My feelings were grotesquely exaggerated after a long week of crazy events happening where I'd felt I'd given much of myself to my friends and fellow brothers and sisters-in-Christ. And having come late to a Bible study already feeling quite tired and weary, I felt particularly disheartened that, when no-one was reaching out to me.

But then! Epiphany! I realized that the way I felt ( i.e. used and betrayed by my friends), was exactly the way that God must have felt that week. He'd been the one sustaining me, making the sun to shine down upon me, blessing me with friends and food and health and shelter, and instead of acknowledging His work, I just ignored Him. I could just imagine God somewhere coming in through the door in my busy life, going "Me, me, me, look at me!" And I steadfastly refused to show any recognition of His presence.

Just in case those that aren't really into emotions or feelings suddenly think that I've been smoking crack, one only needs to read Hosea [in the Bible] to see the extent of the betrayal God feels when his people, Israel, run after other idols.

[Israel] said, 'I will go after my lovers,
who give me my food and my water,
my wool and my linen, my oil and my drink.'

Therefore I, [God] will block her path with thornbushes;
I will wall her in so that she cannot find her way.

She will chase after her lovers but not catch them;
she will look for them but not find them.
Then she will say,
'I will go back to my husband [God] as at first,
for then I was better off than now.'

She has not acknowledged that I was the one
who gave her the grain, the new wine and oil,
who lavished on her the silver and gold—
which they used for Baal (Hosea 2:5-8).

So what does this show about feelings? Well, what became clear in Part 1 was that feelings are powerful, and God sometimes uses this power to point us back at Him. I think this calls for a certain self-reflexivity, and (NB) this need not always be the case, but it can be.

Now let's turn to Part 2 for another example.

The post which started this all off can be found here: Feelings are a theological nuisance.

Feelings are a theological nuisance...

Feelings are a theological nuisance.

If I were to get a penny for every time I've heard this statement, I'd have a handful of useless old coins. (We use cents here in South Africa.) But every time I've heard it, I've thought: "Wow, that makes sense." Feelings, never mind whether they're in the theological context or not, can be completely misleading and confusing. Think, for example, of the times you were younger and hated your parents for being not getting you a pink pony for your birthday like you asked (instead, in their infinite wisdom, they gave you an encyclopedia). Sure, in your seven year old brain, you probably disliked your parents intensely at that point of time, but underneath it all, you knew loved them. But your feelings made you temporarily forget this as you stomped your little gangly legs and little pouty feet off to your bedroom.

(From the other side, I've also heard that sometimes parents feel as if they could kill their little angels. That don't necessarily mean naught. Luckily for us who have parents).

Or, rather, think of the last time you had PMS and you felt like riding over the woman who bought the last Lindt chocolate bar from the local supermarket. Rationally, you might have thought that letting out her tires was a bit much, but your feelings certainly didn't stop you. Right?

And exactly the same thing can happen with God. Sometimes we feel as if God's ignoring us. As if He doesn't love us anymore. As if He's never loved us. As if He doesn't care. But here's the thing. Our feelings have the ability to override and commandeer our mental states. And woah, feelings can be lank treacherous. And the problem is that we forget this and tend to trust our feelings and emotions instead of relying on God's Word and on his promises that He does love us, that He will never forsake us, and that He is always faithful and true.

But, I've been thinking about it, and maybe I've been too hasty in disregarding my feelings just like that. Check out the next few blogs...

You don't make me. God does.

I was having a lovely chat with my friend Pie the other day, talking about our value as humans, and she formulated her words in a way that was so illuminating that I thought I'd mention it here.

Pie noted how we sometimes fall into the trap of thinking that our value is directly linked to what people think of us, i.e. we are only cool, nice, lovely, wonderful, awesome if people say we are. Sure. We all think like this at one stage or another. That's why we so desperately want to conform and want to be accepted and liked by people.

But do you see the problem with this? Yeah.. 'Cause people aren't always the best judges of things. I mean, how many people listen to sokkie music and think it's awesome? I know I do, and I get ribbed about it the whole time [Some people have no taste. *sniff*]. Also, people are fickle and what's cool one moment, isn't the next. Case in point: the high-waisted jeans that were sooooooooooooo last year are in fact turning out to be so next year. [Go figure.] Additionally, just because people might think you're awesome, doesn't mean that they're going to tell you this. So you might drift through life never realizing your worth. Etcetc. Either way, I hope it's clear that if we really think about it, our practice of placing our sense of value on the opinions of people is kinda silly.

Instead, Pie said that we should see people's opinions of us as affirming or recognising our value, as opposed to giving us value. In other words: our value as human beings does not hinge on human opinion. Human opinion merely recognizes or affirms our value (or, if people are unkind, they fail to recognize or affirm as value). As people loved by a Heavenly Father who sent His only Son to die for those created in His image, we have intrinsic value independent of what people think of us. Rather, our value is dependent on what God has created and done.

Isn't that a relief. Now we can carry on listening to our sokkie music  :).

Sometimes when the world closes its eyes, so do I

"I've seen lots of scenes on television myself that were hard to take. Guys in slips and masks pulling bodies out of a mass grave. Newborns they toss, laughing, into bread ovens Young women who coat their throats with oil before going to bed. "That way," they say, "when the throat-slitters come, the blades of their knives weren't hurt as much." I suffered from these things without really feeling involved. I didn't realize that if the victims shouted loud enough, it was so I would hear them, myself, and thousands of other people on earth, and so we would try to do everything we could so that their suffering might end. It always happened so far away, in countries on the other side of the world. But in these early days of April in 1994, the country on the other side of the world is mine" (10).

So speaks Michel Serumundo on the day he is about to die. A fictional character in Murambi, the Book of Bones by Boubacar Boris Diop, Serumondo is one of the victims that die in the Rwandan genocide of 1994. However, his constructedness doesn't negate the stinging reproach held in these words: How often do we simply turn away from tragedies in the world? And particularly striking about the Rwandan genocide is the fact that it was one where the rest of the world clearly turned their back away and did nothing to intervene while in a period of 90-100 days, 800 000 - 1,2 million people were killed.

As Michel says to his wife:

"Don't worry, Sera, the entire world is watching them, they won't be able to do anything." [...] In my heart of hearts, I knew I was wrong. The World Cup was about to begin in the United States. The planet was interested in nothing else. And in any case, whatever happened in Rwanda, it would always be the asme odl story of blacks beating up on each other. Even Africans would say, during half-time of every match, "They're embarassing us, they should stop killing each other like that." Then they'll go on to something else. "Did you see that acrobatic flip of Kluivert's?" (9, 10).

What the novel really succeeded in doing was making me think about how the world reacts to events such as this. And the thing is, the Rwandan genocide is just one in many mass injustices that has left no continent untouched. And being of such a gross nature, it really makes key questions about our participation in social events strike home, and there's one particuarly question I'd like to leave you with: In cases of unjust, inhuman events (no matter how big or small), what is our response as Christians? Do we, like the rest of the world, turn away? Do we, like the rest of the world, blind ourselves to the fact that every human has been created in the image of God and remain apathetic? Because at the act of every sinful, unjust act is a lie. And in this case, the lie would be: it doesn't matter that I don't act, because they don't matter.

I'd like to point out two possible traps you might fall into when thinking about this answer.
1) Don't fall into the trap of thinking that I'm talking only about cases that are as huge and consequential as a genocide- we've all come across little cases of injustice in our lives to which we turn a blind eye.
2) On the other hand, don't think that you need to drop your work and life and move to Rwanda to make a difference. For some of us, this might mean that we do become social activists, but for the rest of us, it might just mean small changes in our lives that otherwise remain pretty much the same.

Having said all that, I don't know what this might mean in terms of your own context and lifestyle. But let's just think a bit mroe earnestly about our participation in the world, and how this might work itself out.

God is in the business of change

but the question remains: Are WE in the business of being changed?

Or rather: Do we believe that God can truly change us?

Sometimes when I've messed up for the millionth time, placed yet another idol before God, when I'm feeling despondent, the answer to this question is a No: I simply don't believe that I'm in the business of being changed; I don't believe that God can truly change us. Maybe it's out of frustration: "Why on earth am I still struggling with the same things?!??!"; maybe it's out of a loss of trust: "If God were so truly powerful, He'd make me perfect RIGHT NOW!".. but I'm sure every now and then, you've felt frustrated that you seem to be going nowhere, and that you're plateauing or even going downhill in your walk with Christ.

But let's remember, that God's not only in the business of change, but also in the business of lost causes.

So chin up, my friend, let's keep on keeping on.

You can change.. but not if you leave Jesus out of the picture.

Like I mentioned earlier, I'm currently reading through the book You can change by Tim Chester.

Only thing is, a couple of chapters in, I kinda realized I'm missing this promised change. The first few chapters are a reminder of the gospel: Who God is, and what He has done through His work as Father, Son, and Spirit, and being someone who's already pretty familiar with most of this already, I merely skim read and flicked through those bits.

Then it struck me - the reason why Tim had included those bits in is because the gospel is the only thing that's going to bring about real and lasting change in my life. And the reason I was skipping all those bits was because I'd foolishly forgotten to take my heart condition in for a tune-up, and instead was heading straight to the mechanics of change.

But like Tim writes:

"The root cause of my behaviour is always, always my heart. What we see is behaviour and emotions. But lasting change is achieved only by tackling their source - the heart" (71).

 And if we don't confront our hearts with Jesus, then any behaviour we undertake in the name of change, is certain to be of a superficial nature and of temporary duration.

I'm only human..

I often explain away the times I behave badly, the times I mess up, the times I hurt others with the words "I'm only human."

'Cause surely that's excuse enough to cover over my faults? How can people expect such high standards from me, when the Bible's made it clear that I am naturally sinful and wretched? But I realized I'm going to have to rethink the way I use this phrase, having stumbled upon the following quote:

After each day of creation God declares what he has made to be 'good'. But on the sixth day God's verdict on a world that now includes humanity is 'very good'. God's work wasn't finished until there was something in the world to reflect His glory in the world. We often excuse our actions by saying 'I'm only human.' There's nothing 'only' about begin human: We're truly human as we reflect God's glory.

Yes. I am 'only' human. I do mess up time and time again because. But I think that we only tend to use this phrase in a negative sense, not recognising that being human means being God's image-bearer on earth. And that, my friend, is 'very good'.

PS the quotes from Tim Chester's You can change.
PPS Yes. You're right in thinking that we'll probably be hearing a lot from Tim Chester in the immediate future...

Holiness? How old fashioned.

I've started reading this awesome book called You can change by Tim Chester, and there're some epic quotes in it. One that particularly struck me is that:

"One of our problems is that we think of holiness as giving up things we enjoy out of a vague sense of obligation. But I'm convinced that holiness is always, always good news. God calls us to the good life. He's always bigger and better than anything sin offers."

How true. When was the last time you had to choose between being holy and doing what you wanted to do, and chose the former option without feeling like you were missing out on something? I know I still struggle with that at times.

But Tim's right - God calls us to the GOOD life, and it's important to remember that instead of seeing everything else as the good life, and the life we live in our Christian walk as second-best. There's much that can be said about the negative effects about sin on us and others, but for now, let it suffice to say that having created us, God is the only one who knows how we can live life to the fullest - and that's knowing, trusting and obeying our Creator.

Sometimes there is nothing left but despair

As I grow older, I've been struggling more and more with frustration that God seems to be ignoring my prayers. It's especially frustrating when my prayers seem to be in line with God's: I mean, I understand if I don't get the all-expenses-paid-trip-to-Costa-Rica, but surely God could open the eyes and hearts of my family members and friends that don't know Jesus yet. Please?

And yet, days turn into weeks turn into months, which are slowly turning into years, and nothing. The same people still politely nod their heads at me when I try share the gospel, the same people still go searching for meaning in meaningless things, and slowly but slowly, I start to despair a little.

And that is all I want this post to be about. I despair. I get sad, mad, cross, despondent, furious at God for not doing something. There are many 'answers' to respond to my emotions, but you know what? For tonight, I would just like to acknowledge that it can be tough and exacting to trust and obey a God is bigger than we are. And that's okay. That's okay. We can be real before Him.

Sole idols

Take 2:

Okay, so I'm trying to figure out what it was I was trying to say earlier in the post:Soul idols, and I think I worked it out.

What I was trying to say that, because God is such an overwhelming BIG God, that if you lose sight of Him, you're in trouble and a million things will rush in to take His place in your life. Sorta like your feet being a lank important part of your body. Because we walk so often.

No, okay, I can see why you might disagree that it isn't really like that. But yes, I'm still on the feet issue. (As you can see from my pun in the title, ha-di-ha-ha.)
Tonight is Monday, and I finally have an appointment with a physio on Wednesday. So far away, so far. And I'm at the point where I'm completely COMPLETELY fedup with my silly plaguing injury. And, in the funny coincidental way that sometimes overtakes life, tonight I'm really struggling with my idols. And I'm completely COMPLETELY fedup with my own sinfulness. Isn't it ironic how we become so blinded to the things, the Thing, that matters most in life?

Grr.

Again, I doubt this post made much sense. Maybe there'll be a Take 3...