Books That Helped: Untangling Emotions, Chapter One

Mike Leake

downloadI’m not all the way healed of depression, anxiety, poor thinking, etc. but I have experienced substantial healing. The Lord used several people and several resources to provide this healing. I thought it might be beneficial to walk through some of the resources which helped. Today we will cover chapter 1 of Untangling Emotions.

Summary:

I felt sad.

I didn’t want to feel sad.

And so I would put myself on a quest to feel better. And it was killing me, because I was pursuing the wrong goal. Negative emotions aren’t always bad. When we experience them our goal isn’t to terminate them but to listen to them.

I felt like something was wrong with me because I wasn’t always cheerful. That’s why a paragraph like this one was so helpful:

Unlike our assumption that the most faithful people will be the most carefree and emotionally upbeat, Scripture is full of aching, grieving saints who tear their clothes and sit in the ashes when their world get upended. The basic logic in the Bible is this: if you care about others and the kingdom and mission of God in this world, you will be and you should be full of sorrow when you or those you love are injured, suffer loss, or die. (24)

Not only does the Bible command things like joy but it also lifts up things like lament as an appropriate response. “Our negative emotions, like God’s, play a necessary role in our lives. They tell us that something is wrong.” (27) We have to enter into not only the joys but also the pains of God’s love. (28)

Comment:

This was helpful because it encouraged me to look into my negative emotions. Even if they weren’t accurate or rational it opened my eyes to the possibility that some of the things I was feeling should be embraced rather than denied. What this did was it moved my target away from trying to feel only one way, and it opened up a new target—“What is the most God-honoring emotion in this moment?”

Quotable:

“Only those who love the Lord enough to open their hearts to the pain in his world will be able to enter into his joy as well.” (28)

How I Hope My Easter 2021 Journal Doesn’t Read

Mike Leake

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Sunday, April 4, 2021.

If one were placing a pin to chart what led to our demise, there would be several points within our history where a pin could be dropped. But in our more recent history one could certainly place a pin upon the weeks shortly after the COVID-19 stay-at-home issues were lifted. It was a time of great chaos in our rush to get back to normal.

When this virus first began we all assumed it would cause many churches to close their doors. We had figured it would be primarily for economic reasons. There was no way, we thought, that giving in a pandemic could keep up. But something phenomenal happened. Many churches cut excess and at the same time giving actually stayed relatively steady. Financially the church was sustained.

Churches actually grew closer to one another in the midst of being physically separated. As more and more white space grew on our calendars we began to realize what was actually significant. We started to call people again. We found ways to do the things which were really significant to us, but there were many things which never happened and we found ourselves okay with that.

We began developing small groups with deep and meaningful relationships. We truly needed one another in this time. We became creative in expressing love. We no longer relied upon a handshake, a hug, a nod, or being in physical proximity to one another. We had an ache within us for our fellow man and we innovatively pursued one another. Love was a verb.

And somewhere in the midst of all this we began to learn the language of lament. Our bickering diminished and we began to experience joy which had long gone dormant, having been choked out by the cares of the world. We felt as if our lives were not our own. Our days felt numbered. ‘Who knows what tomorrow will bring’ was both a crushing and a freeing truth for us.

And families. It was phenomenal to see fathers opening up Bible’s within their homes. There was a learning curve, for sure. But family worship became a thing. We weren’t sure how to navigate some of this theologically but there was something sweet about a parent holding grape juice and crackers and shepherding family in the Lord’s supper.

Yes, COVID-19 became a time when we pulled closer together as a church but also our little churches (our homes) became strengthened. And I don’t have time to mention the creative ways our people sought to engage our community, love our widows, care for the orphan and fatherless. The church was the church.

Then we returned to normal. Or tried.

Ballparks opened up. They opened up a shortened baseball season. Football season started on time. Schools opened back up. Our schedules once again filled up with activity.

It wasn’t a smooth opening either. We endured months of political back and forth as we held our general election still in November. Blame for COVID-19 response was passed around, nobody grabbing a piece for themselves. Conspiracy theories ran rampant. We’re more fractured than we’ve ever been. Some folks are still afraid to hug or go out into public. The fear is still there and that created much tension in the early stages. Some were eager to get back quickly others were more reserved. Everybody was emotional. And so the bickering went to a full rage.

Today is Easter. Our sanctuary was packed this morning. We had been planning this tremendous celebration for a couple months. Many folks had a part. And it went beautifully. As far as production quality we knocked it out of the park. We had a great worship experience. I think the sermon was engaging. Next Sunday we’ll do it again…but just with a few less visitors.

I might come in a little later on Monday morning before we gear up for our next big event. Our calendar for Spring and Summer is filling up quickly. For the past couple of weeks I don’t think I’ve eaten a single meal with my family around the dinner table. And I’m not alone in that, we’re all playing catch up. It’s been tough to get back to normal, but we’re trying.

After awhile we’ll be pretty much back to where we were before COVID-19. A fractured people, filled with rage, suspicious of one another, broken families, pulling ourselves up by our own efforts and self-dependence, who occasionally go to church which is mostly centered around an experience instead of a lifestyle.

We’re trying so hard to get back to normal…

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There Is a Reason Your ‘Worship At Home’ Doesn’t Feel the Same

Mike Leake

photo-1508349356983-7838c2b04eb2We’ve held “online services” for a month now. I am still not adjusted. And I’m not growing to enjoy it. Yes, there are things that I’m learning. There are ways in which I believe this season has the potential to help us for the long haul. But I’m still not okay with not physically gathering as the church. Nor should we be. It wasn’t meant to be this way.

There is another aspect which I have missed considerably. Namely, worship through song. Now don’t hear me wrong. Our praise team has done a phenomenal job of still putting a few songs together each week for us to worship through. They’ve been fitting and helpful. But, it’s not the same. At all.

Part of this might be that I can’t carry a tune so I need louder music around me to actually feel like I can squeak out a few notes louder than a mumble. But I also believe there is a theological reason why your singing along with the television isn’t the same thing as your experience on Sunday morning. And I hope we remember this and carry it with us even after this thing is over. You and I are meant to “sing to one another” and you cannot do that as well in your home. It’s hard to live out Ephesians 5:18-19 in your living room.

As we sing theologically rich songs, like some of those precious hymns, we are proclaiming and teaching the excellency of God from one generation to another. Or maybe as we sing some of the emotionally encouraging modern songs we are encouraging one another to hold fast to Christ.

We must not forsake either dimension of worship. To only sing vertically is to forget that we were saved into a people. It isn’t just me and Jesus. My relationship with God is intimately connected to the vital companionship I share with my brothers and sisters. So we need to sing songs together. And to one another.

Likewise if I only sing horizontally I will be missing the personal aspect of my relationship with God. And eventually we won’t have much to sing. Our worship ought to be corporately Godward. There shouldn’t be a deep split between the vertical and horizontal. As we sing about the Lord and to the Lord we are doing this together and encouraging one another.

If there wasn’t a horizontal aspect to worship then we could have easily moved it to our living room without missing a beat. But we haven’t and we cannot. There is a horizontal dimension to our worship, and we would do well to remember this when we’re no longer providentially hindered from gathering.

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Photo source: here

Parts of this article originally appeared here.

The Pain of Celebrating a Physical Resurrection Virtually

Mike Leake

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“Even if I knew that tomorrow the world would go to pieces, I would still plant my apple tree.”

The above quote is often attributed to Martin Luther, but you’ll be hard-pressed to track it down in any of his writings. But it certainly seems like something Luther would say. His favorite Psalm was Psalm 46 and this is the type of thought which would come from one heavily influenced by that psalm. Regardless of it’s author, is it true in a pandemic? Does that quote hold up now that it feels like our world is going to pieces?

I think it does. (I stick by this, even today). In fact, I believe what “Luther” said is informative for how we respond in the midst of a pandemic. We are called to be faithful to the ordinary means of grace even in extraordinary times.

But I’ll be honest, I’m struggling as a pastor with what this looks like. How do I meaningfully feed the flock when we cannot gather in person? It’s true that we can preach a sermon online but we cannot give a hug. I think both are pastorally necessary. There is a reason why God became flesh. There is a reason why the risen Christ told Thomas to “put out your hand, and place it in my side.”

And so we find ourselves scrambling to try to make things as normal as possible. Easter is special and so we want to do special things to encourage our folks. But with every innovative idea we realize that it’s still not as good as physically gathering. So we ache, still. And we cannot change that reality. Nor should we try. The incarnation happened for a reason.

Yes, I’m deeply saddened that we will be celebrating the resurrection “virtually”. The hardest part about celebrating the resurrection “virtually” is that the resurrection is a very physical event. (John 20:27)

So, pastors, I know we really want to give hope and assure our people that everything is okay. And, it is. The tomb is, empty. And that’s right. Always hope. BUT that doesn’t mean there isn’t deep mourning taking place as well. Christ was physically resurrected and we weren’t meant to celebrate that virtually.

This doesn’t mean we fight and rail against our government for taking our Easter celebrations from us. It means we learn to sit in the ashes of this thing, whilst doggedly clinging to resurrection hope. There is beauty from ashes. And that’s what the resurrection teaches us. This year we feel the ashes more than the beauty. But God is doing something even in this. He is teaching us lament. And that will, in the end, help us celebrate more fully too.

This is where we come back to that apocalyptic apple tree. It takes away our scrambling. It reminds us of the power of ordinary in the midst of extraordinary. The empty tomb was first heralded by ordinary women engaged in an ordinary activity. The power is in the resurrection itself. Though we are filled with grief, we know our church buildings can remain empty because the power isn’t found there. It’s in the empty tomb. And that’s still vacant.

The word still goes forth with power even virtually. When we engage in those ordinary spiritual disciplines we find power even in the midst of chaos. We plant apple trees still, because it’s the ordinary that we are called to do.

And this is comforting because many of us are wearing ourselves out on the front end of this thing as if it’s a sprint and not a marathon. Yes, there are legs of our marathon where we had better run a bit faster—but we never lose sight of the need to pace ourselves. And we must keep in mind that the center of what we do is the proclamation of the risen Christ—in whatever medium we can find. And surviving this isn’t up to our creativity or our innovation or making sure we are producing online content that could shame Hollywood.

Our call is to humbly and graciously and winsomely preach a resurrected Jesus. That’s your apple tree.

But let’s not pretend like this doesn’t hurt.

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Photo source: here