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.
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