As I listen to the Titanic soundtrack, memorials of loss are felt on the palate of my soul. Music evokes something eternal within the deepest reaches of our psyche. We enter a provocation of feeling; we’re drawn toward it, to enter it, and what we enter is a healing space, for we’re being real about how we feel.
Our soul must feel to be freed to heal; if it’s to be released of the baggage it’s asked to pick up and carry because of life’s tumults. But if we negate our soul’s access to our feelings we force those feelings downward into the crevices of our innocence that were never designed to deal with such junk.
When I refer to ‘innocence’ I mean those parts of ourselves that can only operate under the premise of truth.
We were, from the beginning, designed that way. Nothing’s changed. We need to deal truthfully or we end up with a whole lot of healing to do. The way life ‘happens’ to all of us, it’s inevitable. Spend time in an abusive relationship where truth cannot be lived, for just one instance, and we end up conditioned by lies, and with much healing to procure.
When we endure loss and enter grief for a time, before we adjust to the new normal of an enduring sadness that is accepted, we’re not harmed by the grief if we’ve been real about how we feel. Indeed, in the seedbed of loss, grief is the teacher of composed resilience that’s able to withstand greater pressure and pain than before. Grief, when met the appropriate way, augments emotional maturity.
The right response to pain is to be real about how we feel. It’s the application of courage, the expression of faith, and the commitment to persevere under trial.
Healing is about as simple as being real about how we feel. That way God honours our honouring of the truth.
© 2016 Steve Wickham.