On the Way: Feeling

“Emotions are important messengers but terrible masters,” is a phrase we’ve used often, particularly when we engage in conversations that might be challenging for us because our emotions might be running high. In reality, this phrase can be applied to all centers of intelligence. It’s terrible to be mastered by our thoughts and bodies as well. While we shouldn’t allow our emotions to overtake us, it is necessary for us to lean into them, to try and understand what they’re telling us, especially if we are feelings repressed, because it leads us to wholeness.

Proverbs 3:5 gives us a short reminder to not solely rely on our own preferred intelligence center (and maybe even a challenge to lean into the heart center).

Trust in the Lord with all your heart,

    and do not rely on your own insight.

The places we naturally operate from aren’t bad, they aren’t wrong. We need Head and Body center folks. But no single center is going to lead us to shalom on its own. Feelings get a bad wrap a lot of the time, but they are just as important as thought and body experiences. Culturally, this might be the most difficult center to appreciate, so we may have to work harder to integrate.

This week, we hear from Autumn Schulze who engages the feeling center as a way to navigate memory and trauma - deeply connected to our spiritual formation -  as life takes us down the path of emotional awareness in the world.

On the Way: Thinking - Justice in Education

When I was coaching teachers with a non-profit organization in the city during my first two years here in Indianapolis, I was a part of a team that was very into “knowing itself.” We took all sorts of assessments (never with the consultation of a professional), and spent countless hours in team meetings analyzing the data about ourselves - trying to find out how our team could work more efficiently and effectively. One such exercise was to take the Strengthsfinder assessment. We looked at our results as a team, having never seen our individual data prior to the meeting. In this meeting, I learned that four of my top five personality themes fall in the “Relationship Building” category. During that meeting, this was laughed off as not surprising. I had a reputation for being the caring person on the team. For not hiding my big feelings - I cried a lot. My performance data with my teachers leaned positive because of my teachers’ indicating that they knew I cared about them and their kids on their surveys. 

There are simply some folks that are easy to read when it comes to their centers of intelligence, or the places that they primarily operate from. My preferred center of intelligence is the heart center. While this particular language is most commonly found in Enneagram literature, it shows up across a variety of disciplines. I have had several descriptors applied to me: feeler, empath, highly sensitive, etc. All of these point to the same thing. I use my feelings as my guide in life. I make decisions based on my feelings, I build relationships based on my feelings. I am often, if not always, conscious of the feelings of others (a lot of times even more than my own).

But this is only one center of intelligence. There are also the head and gut/body center. Sometimes, these folks are just as easy to spot. Thinkers, whose preferred center of intelligence is their head, spend a lot of time there. Logic and analytics can be really important to them and provide much more meaning than emotions. Body centered people use instinct to guide them. They may simply know the right thing to do. They feel it in their gut. 

This doesn’t mean everyone is imbalanced, but that most people prefer one of these centers of intelligence over the others. It also doesn't mean that we don’t use or engage the other centers at all, but that it often takes intentional work to do so. While we have a dominant center of intelligence, we also have a repressed center. Knowing this information doesn’t mean that we get a pass on engaging our repressed centers. In fact, working within and from our repressed centers is an opportunity for us to work toward shalom, or wholeness, within ourselves. Just as we are always working toward the wholeness of the kin-dom of God, here and now, we are invited to work toward wholeness in our own selves. By integrating our repressed centers, we are able to see the fullness of Christ within us. The ways that our gifts and Goodness can meet the world. When we meet the world as whole people, knowing ourselves in the fullness of how we were created by God, then we are best suited to follow the Spirit and embody Christ.

As a heart centered person, my repressed center of intelligence is my head center. I am not a thinker. It doesn't mean that I don’t think. It means I, and other feelings folk, have to be intentional about our thinking. We have to make sure we are making room for our thoughts to join the conversation when we are making decisions and processing things. It means that for me to experience the fullness of God, I need to let my thinking join my feelings. I need to trust my thoughts as a guide just as valuable as my feelings that are so easily harnessed.

(By: Britney Yount)

Questions for Shared Story:

1. What does a week in your life (under regular circumstances) look like? 

2. Do you see your work/what you give time to connecting to the larger story God is rewriting in the world, moving toward shalom/justice in a broad or specific sense? How so?

3. Thinking isn't your specific repressed center, but it's also not your primary intelligence center. As a person that primarily uses your body/gut center of intelligence, how do you utilize thinking to address your work?

Communitas: The Spirit of Community - Communal Intercession

I have to admit, although I highly doubt this will come as a shock to most people that know me, that intercessory prayer has been a challenging practice for me. Endless conversations and readings and it’s still murky. But I realized that I’m not ready to throw it away.

If you haven’t recently, read John 14:1-14. The familiar story ends with Jesus promising to answer prayers done in his name. When I read it, I felt a little of the heat that comes sometimes with anger rise up in me. A reminder of why I have struggled so much with this type of prayer. I felt angry because Jesus says, “if in my name you ask me for anything, I will do it.”

But I did, I did ask. I asked and you didn’t answer.

There have been so many times that I have called to God with a specific prayer, only for the heartbreak to come that I was trying to ward off. The death, the pain, the sadness, when whatever I begged would or wouldn’t happen doesn’t, or does. So, I felt angry and also sad, when I was reminded of these moments. Hopes and desires and even needs, laid before God, and at the time, felt like they were ignored or forgotten.

When this has been our experience, why might we still engage in prayers of intercession? 

Because it’s what there is left to do. 

Jesus says we will do the work he has done, and even better. Before instructing us on prayer, he reminds us that we have agency. There will be work to do. But when the work is done, or we can’t do it anymore, we can pray. We can invite God into the situation. We can join with the Holy Spirit.

Whether I understand God as able to do something I pray for or not, I know that God desires to do it. I’ve shared before that when presented with the theological question of whether God can be all powerful or all loving, I understand God to be all loving, and so not omnipotent. While God may not be able to do something, God still wants to do it. I don’t know what the limits are. All I know is the Spirit will show up. So when there I’ve done all of the work I can do, this is what I have. So, I still pray for God’s intercession.

Last year, around this time, I was working in a hospital as a chaplain. I had struggled all semester with the amount of intercessory prayer I engaged in for the role. One weekend, when I was the only chaplain on duty in the hospital, I responded to an emergency call for a seven month old being brought in by ambulance. The baby was unresponsive, the paramedics had gotten a heartbeat back on the way to the hospital, but lost it again just as they arrived. I stood there, with nurses and doctors and paramedics, and in a moment when no one was asking me to pray, it’s all I could do. I asked over and over that this baby would live. That when his parents arrived, we could tell them they’re baby would be okay. But he died. When his mom arrived, I had to tell her that he didn’t make it. I held her while she cried. I cried with her.

I asked and asked, in your name.

Not much later, I had another weekend shift where I was alone. I was called to the children’s hospital to be with a mother whose daughter was ill. When I arrived I learned that the little girl was in an induced coma due to some kind of brain injury. The mother was distraught. I asked her if she would like for me to pray with her and her little girl. We each held one of her hands and I prayed that God would heal her. That we know God was with her, that God loved her, God grieved with her. While praying, the little girl moved, then shouted. She woke up. She couldn’t speak because she was intubated, and I ran and got the nurses who immediately came to give her medicine to get her back to sleep. They didn’t know how she woke up. I was shocked. But the mother was not. She was so calm and kept saying God was showing us that her little girl was still there. I went to check on the little girl a couple of days later. Within days of first being with her, she was able to talk and was recovering swiftly. I spoke with her doctor and was told that her injury was such that they were not sure she would survive when she came in. She was transferred to a rehab unit after two weeks, with a full recovery predicted. She asked to pray with me every day I got to see her. This was more than I imagined was possible when I prayed.

I asked and I asked, in your name.

There will be things we ask for in prayer that may not be possible. But even if they aren’t, God still wants to do them, so we still ask. The Spirit moves with the desire of God to do Good, even when there is only the smallest fraction of a possibility. So we pray, even in the mostly unlikely of circumstances, even when everything tells us that something is impossible. We boldly ask God to intervene. Knowing that the Spirit will move toward Goodness, even when conditions don’t allow for what we pray for.

We ask and we ask, in your name.

(By: Britney Yount)

Palm Sunday - A Grand Entry

While we’ve been moving toward the Cross during this Lenten journey, we’re going backwards a bit for Palm Sunday to the story traditionally told on this day. 

Read Mark 11:1-11

This is a moment of celebration.  A moment of joyful anticipation.  The man that is the Son of God has arrived and the people are so excited.  They welcome him.  They make grand displays of laying down their clothes for him, and the animal he rides, to walk in on.  It’s a red-carpet affair.  My bible gives this passage the heading, “Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem.”  It feels like he’s won something.  That we’ve won something.  Maybe it’s the recognition of his value.  That his teachings and miracles have finally proven socially and culturally significant.

Imagine it. 

Imagine hearing about Jesus for so long.  Learning about the things he has said, the things he has done.  Maybe you know someone that saw him teach once.  Maybe you have.  Maybe you know someone that was healed or fed by him.  Maybe you were.  And he’s here!  He’s in your town and everyone is going to see how wonderful this man is.  Everyone is going to get to experience his Divine presence.  This is a jubilee.

Things are going great!  Any doubts you might have had about Jesus can be put away.  Look at everyone around you and how they receive him.  You’re a part of this incredible movement and adventure that connects to Jesus.  It feels great and it’s so easy.  You praise and worship without hesitation.

Okay.

I must confess that I felt angry while reading this passage.  It’s supposed to be a celebration, and I feel like I’m the person against the wall at the party that refuses to join in the fun.  Because I know what’s coming.  I know how quickly this is going to come crumbling down.  And I think I felt this way, because, like last week, when I realized that I had the capacity to play even the villainous roles in the story, I see myself in this story too.  And my fickle nature is on display.  My capacity for betrayal and harm just as much as joy and support.  

Things aren’t hard, at this moment, for folks that support Jesus.  There are those that worry about him, and plot against him, but nothing’s too out in the open yet.  Jesus knows he is going to die, but it seems that others haven’t been on board with his predictions.  From this scene, it’s unimaginable that Jesus would be condemned and murdered in a matter of days.

When things aren’t hard, it’s the easiest time for us to let Jesus in.  I’m pretty sure I’ve heard this idea in sermons since I started going to church in junior high.  And here I am, two decades later, and I’m getting angry at this story.  I’m angry because it reminds me that I still put conditions on my connection to Jesus.  I know that when things get hard, I’ll feel like Jesus broke his part of the deal.  That I can and have turned my back on him just as decisively as I have cheered on his entry to Jerusalem.  

What keeps us from turning toward Jesus when things get hard?  How might we recognize this betrayal of Jesus as a betrayal of ourselves?

Christ is present in the hardest moments, just as Christ was present at this celebration.  It is our work to be present to Christ in both.

This week is Holy Week.  This joyful and triumphant entry into Jerusalem is headed toward a violent end.  While we may not be able to feel the joy and celebration that is described in our passage from today, perhaps we can still be aware of our posture toward Jesus.  

This week, imagine staying by Jesus as he walks to his death.  Read Mark 15:21-47.  Be reminded that when we experience darkness, we are not abandoned by Christ.  Offer that to Jesus.  

Notice any discomfort.  Notice the moment you want to disengage, turn away, leave.  It’s hard to sit with suffering.  But remember that Christ does it for us.

Stay

Britney Yount

Darkness of Justice - Roman Style - and the Adding of Insult to Injury

I’m swimming in feelings these days, as I’m sure many of us are.  As a counseling intern, I know there are no negative feelings and I spend a significant amount of time helping people name anger, sadness, and guilt.  This week, I waded through all of them over the phone with my patients while also trying to manage what was my own.

Perhaps this week, you’ve felt similarly.  This week may have brought weariness, grief, and challenge.  I’m hopeful that it also brought moments of joy, as well.  What are you feeling right now?  Take a moment to notice where your thoughts and feelings are.  No need to hold judgement about wherever you are, but as we read a familiar, but also emotionally charged passage, pay attention to what feelings show up for you.  

Read Mark 15:1-20

When reading this passage for the first time, I found it was so easy to be angry at the crowd that condemns Jesus.  At Pilate, who knows this is all a charade grounded in jealousy, but seeks to please a crowd, rather than do the right thing.  I felt the anger come, and mingle with the anger that seems to have settled in these days.  And then sadness, swift and forceful, as Jesus is beaten and humiliated.  Grief as Christ is abused and shamed.  The very injustice of a system designed to provide justice.

In that place, it was very easy to connect this story to our world.  The systems of supposed justice that crucify Christ on a daily basis, encouraged by the voices of the crowd.  It took no effort to get there.  And I felt comforted knowing that the Pilates and crowds of the world are the ones in the wrong.

But then.

While I placed blame on these characters, I realized that I could find myself in all the roles in the story.  And despite knowing what these weeks are leading to, knowing that we are walking towards death, it wasn’t till now that the heaviness of this season gripped me.  I recalled the times that I made a poor choice to please others, like Pilate.  I remembered hurt I have caused others, reenacting the crucifixion when I have failed to love.  And I went back to the times that I have felt ashamed, and hurt more than I thought I could bear, perhaps just a tiny bit, like Jesus.

Can you place yourself in the story?

Can you imagine yourself as Pilate?  Confused by what might be going on, but so concerned about what others think of you that you do what they tell you to.  

What comes to mind?  What does that feel like?

Can you imagine yourself as a member of the crowd?  Swept up in the frenzy, condemning someone, with or without a grasp of what you’re doing.  Or even ignoring the other, the Christ among you.  The ways we have contributed to suffering, or been a bystander.  

What comes to mind?  What does that feel like?

Can you imagine Jesus?  Betrayed, humiliated, hurt, afraid, confused.  Can you imagine yourself in that place?  

What comes to mind?  What does that feel like?

I think we have all been Pilate, a crowd member, and we have all been Jesus.  It strikes me as significant that we can recall and imagine what Jesus felt, as the Christ, and know that we too, carry Christ.  To know that God was with him then, and is with us now.

Even as those that embody Christ, we have still been Pilate.  We have still been the crowd.  And, even so, God is still with us, just as present in the darkness as anywhere else.  Rachel Held Evans said, “Even here, in the dark, God is making all things new.”  In the dark, we are reminded of the times we have harmed and been harmed.  We may have ignored these moments for a long time, we may have forgotten, we may not have realized that was what was happening at the time.

What are you feeling right now?  Take a moment to notice where your thoughts and feelings are.

What if we read this story not knowing what was coming in a few weeks?  No knowledge of the resurrection.  We often call on God to be our lights in the darkness; to brighten our paths.  But there is no light here.  That doesn’t mean that God is absent, though.  God is present, even when there is no light.

May we remember that we are not abandoned when we walk into the dark.  May we feel the full companionship and love of God in this season.  May we walk courageously toward the Cross knowing we are not alone.  Amen.

Britney Yount