I don't feel like it

When I was young, I remember saying, "I don't feel like it." What I remember is my parents responding with something along the lines, "Since when did we only do what we feel like doing?" (Since so much of my interior life and memories has been retold through a story where I am the heroine, this may or may not be true memory. The problem with telling stories about real people is that I sometime confuse in my memory what really happened. So, just in case you are wondering, I stopped telling stories to myself that have real people in them.)

Now as a parent and as a student life coordinator, I encounter this sentiment, if not these exact words regularly. It seems that it is human, though perhaps we notice it more in our culture, that we define reality by how we feel about it. We define ourselves by how we feel about ourselves. We define our friends and enemies, our work and play, our responsibilities and even our faith, by how we feel about them. Then we expect others to take us at our word and accept our reality.

The more I am aware of this tendency in my children and students, the more I see this tendency in myself. My world is based on how I feel about it, which is often far from reality. (See italics above.) This is one of the reasons I love science and math. It keeps me rooted in reality, giving me a foundation for my stories to stand on. But this is also why I love theology, as in the study of God. It keeps me rooted in something besides my perception of my feelings. This is why I believe in absolute truth, even if I don't know it in its entirety (and thank heavens, I don't).

The definition of the world must be based in something besides myself. I need to be constantly pointing those in my world to that foundation. So when my child complains about practicing the cello, instead of getting frustrated by his lack of focus, I can remind him of the bigger truth that suffering produces perseverance, and perseverance produces character, and character produces hope. And hope does not disappoint because it is based in the character of God.

And when my student says, "I can't do this," instead of letting them give up or make excuses, I can say (with all compassion and grace), "If Paul who went through a lot more than algebra class says, 'I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me,' what makes you think that Jesus can't help you through algebra. Let's ask him for strength and perseverance."

And when I get mad and yell, or close my door and hide from my children, I can remind myself, "What is the reality of this moment? Does their misbehavior justify my lack of control or feelings of failure? Who am I in Christ? I am a new creation. The old is dead. Christ lives in me. Let his love shine into their lives, not my feelings about the matter."

I am not saying that feelings are always wrong. I am not saying that we should hide our feelings, or stuff them away. What I am saying is that they shouldn't be trusted to define our world. That is too heavy a burden for them to carry. That isn't their job. Emotions, feelings, sensations are all gifts of God to be interpreted and sanctified by him, just like every other part of the human essence. They provide the ability to connect with other humans; they fill our human experience with richness and depth. But they are not the basis of interpreting our world. (Don't use wallpaper for your foundation.) Only God's truth is strong enough to bear that load.

Tracing this idea through scripture, using Psalm 118:22 has provided a very beautiful picture. God provided deliverance for the Psalmist, through an unexpected means - something rejected becoming the most important part.

I will give you thanks, for you answered me;
    you have become my salvation.

The stone the builders rejected
    has become the cornerstone; 

the Lord has done this,
    and it is marvelous in our eyes.

Jesus puts the pharisees on the spot by using this verse after telling the story of the vineyard tenants. The tenants injured the servants and messengers, but then killed the son of the landlord. Jesus pointed out that they were the ones who rejected the stone, and because of that, they will be crushed. Quoted is Luke's retelling of the parable, in Luke 20:15-18

“What then will the owner of the vineyard do to them? He will come and kill those tenants and give the vineyard to others.”
When the people heard this, they said, “God forbid!”
Jesus looked directly at them and asked, “Then what is the meaning of that which is written:

“‘The stone the builders rejected
    has become the cornerstone’?

Everyone who falls on that stone will be broken to pieces; anyone on whom it falls will be crushed.”

But for those to do not reject the stone, but accept that He is the foundation for the world, salvation is offered. Peter in Acts 4: 11-12, says it this way,

Jesus is

“‘the stone you builders rejected,
    which has become the cornerstone.’

Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved.”

Through this foundation, we are saved not just from the wrath of God, but from ourselves. And in being saved, we become like Christ, stones being built into a temple - a dwelling place of God himself. Peter, whose name means "rock" must have liked this picture because in 1 Peter 2:4-5, he wrote,

As you come to him, the living Stone—rejected by humans but chosen by God and precious to him—you also, like living stones, are being built into a spiritual house to be a holy priesthood, offering spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.

That is a solid foundation. It provides an interpretation of the world that allows me to define my emotions, not let my feelings define me. It allows me to be stand firm in temptations, without being crushed by them. It provides "grit" and perseverance when things get rough. And it is a solid place to stand when I feel overwhelmed by the oceans of responsibility, failure, and expectations.  

Sonnet

The weight of day seeps down from head to neck
Like oil or grease with spreading filth and slime.
"You failed" is whispered. "Give it up. What time
Have you not made a bigger mess and wreck."
A laugh feels hollow, empty as a chest
Once built for treasure, now forgotten, lost,
Promise of hope, it stands unfilled, tossed
Ashore, its looks deceiving, off’ring rest.
And yet, what if, the oil once overfilled
With grime picked up from use, could be made clean
Anointing those held captive with new hope?
Then could the empty casket be rebuilt
Deluged with joy; a belly laugh, it's sheen?
Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy, this is seen.