Anyone who has raised a child knows something of raw emotion and brutal honesty: the tantrums, the howls of despair, the way a mood can change in seconds for no apparent reasons, how giggles of laughter can turn to screams of unhappiness. They know that meltdowns occur for apparently inexplicable reasons, not to mention as a response to the most awful word in the English language (‘no’). A child shows us what unfiltered, unprocessed and unregulated emotions look like. Joy is infectious (there’s nothing quite like a toddler’s belly laughs), but misery and despair can be present almost simultaneously. A child’s ability to express their feelings can feel overwhelming to watch.
Although as adults we get better at understanding and regulating our emotions (hopefully!), the same maelstrom of emotions assail us daily. We feel hope and despair, joy and sorrow, frustration and patience, anger and kindness every day. The ‘four seasons in a day’ syndrome used to describe English weather applies here too. This tumult of emotions is played out regularly in everyone’s life, even if you do look like a stormtrooper to the outside world.
When their brother died, even after a direct plea to Jesus for help, Martha and Mary knew the devastation of bereavement. (John 11) Martha felt bitter disappointment and frustration (‘Lord, if You had been here, my brother would not have died.’) But she also had hope (‘Even now, I know that God will give You whatever You ask of Him.’)
Hope, it seems, can sit alongside feelings of despair, confusion and desperation. These feelings can co-exist. We can bring ALL our feelings to God at the same time. ‘Brutal honesty with God is the sign of a fighting hope, not a fading one.’ (‘Living Hope’) Keep hoping, even if other emotions are there as well.