Holy Connection

The final frontier for many of us is not “outer space,” but the journey inward, an intricate web of emotions that fire neurological soundings throughout our physical self.  Here mind, body, and soul work together to optimize our health, if we grant permission.  While we may assume our health is a priority, often our emotional health is left unchecked. The fast pace of the workplace, family life, gym membership, and other activity that promise positive outcomes, quickly absorb every ounce of our energy.  Somehow, we program ourselves to believe if we pack enough “good things” into our calendar, we will escape sickness, sadness, and an emotional meltdown. When an unpredictable crisis occurs, we push through, accomplishing what “needs doing.” Our strategy: treat emotions as holy ground – “No One Can Walk Here"– or we shove our emotions aside to the stockpile of “things to ponder on a rainy Saturday.” Meanwhile, we steamroll through the day and our physical self graciously absorbs the shock of frustration, despair, and anxiety.

This lifestyle has been modeled well for us, “keep going, don’t stop, circumstances will work themselves out, 'Life is Good'”.  Yet clinical research reveals the fallout from this non-stop way of life eventually catches up to us in the form of breakdowns -- mental, emotional, and physical. For example, putting a lid on my emotions increases my sarcasm, tendency to blame others, and my dependence upon caffeine.  As I’ve listened to clinicians and psychologists urging the masses to slow down and process grief, loss, and trauma, I’ve witnessed the physical correlation of emotional repression and unprocessed grief. Without experiencing this firsthand, I may have remained a skeptic. Allowing myself space to feel the full extent of sadness is not wrong. Embracing the anniversary of a death, or other type of loss gives my body time to catch up with my mind so the two remain connected. Inviting God into this space helps me recognize sadness as a spiritual emotion instead of an alien invasion to my “happy seven enneagram” self. 

Psalms 46:10 says, “Be still and know that I am God.” There is a healthy knowing that comes in silence and not in words . . . but first I must be still. In Hebrew the words “Be still,” are translated “to let go” to “relax.”  As I quiet my mind, and soul, and breathe deeply, I sit with God. No questions, no comments. It’s a sacred time to “let go,” to settle in with God, and relax. His peace stills my mind with rhythmic waves, and His Spirit bears witness to a wide range of emotions. Each one, He holds, He examines. This a sacred moment of communing with God.  Inviting God into my loss is holy ground. In this communion my soul is enlarged, my mind is renewed, and I gain traction to move forward without the residue of bitterness.  As an Associate Pastor, I want to “be fully present” as I listen to others’ stories of pain. Granting myself a cushion of time to process grief enables me to focus with greater empathy in listening to another person’s narrative without comparing it to mine.  I cannot hold another person’s story, until I can hold my own.

Keeping a pulse on emotional health also occurs in my faith community of Life Group. Doing life with others who share similar spiritual rhythms is balm for my soul. Beth Miller, author of What Loss Can Teach Us, explains, “To be well we need the healing presence of others to help us release what we are carrying in our bodies.”  In our Life Groups we lift one another up in prayer, and feed one another the Word of life which fills us with courage to persevere.

Throughout the journey to the inner self, my soul has broadened the scope of what it can hold and still declare the day, the week, the month, “to be good.” Learning to create space for loss has reconnected my mind and emotions to my physical self. The struggle between what was and what is has become a new lens in life as I recognize that loss requires as much attention as a new birth.  Through loss and grief God is recreating something new. He is transforming my soul to hold more than I ever thought possible – more of Him.