SCRIPTURE:

Ecclesiastes 3:4 (ESV)
4 a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

Philippians 3:10 (ESV)
10 that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, 11 that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead.

DEVO:

Recently, my wife Kristi and I spoke with a girl who lost her brother in a car accident. She still was very fragile, raw, and wounded. In the course of our conversation, it became very apparent to us that she was afraid of letting herself process all of her emotions for fear of breaking down. She explained a few situations where she went to church or began a conversation or started seeing a counselor but had to leave abruptly when she began to feel the emotions rising up. One of the things she kept saying is that she knows she needs to be stronger for God. 

We challenged her that the next time she finds herself in one of those situations, rather than running away, she needs to lean into it. We encouraged her to let all the emotions wash over her. I pointed her to a book by Pastor Levi Lusko that I read shortly after my wife was killed called Through the Eyes of a Lion. One of the more profound concepts he writes about in this book is one he terms "Running Towards the Roar.” Let me unpack it:

Most of us have seen a National Geographic or Discovery Channel special of lions hunting in the plains of Africa. What you may not know is that it’s not the males but the females -- the lionesses -- that are actually the hunters. The males are inherently too slow and lazy. Sounds not unlike the human species!

The male does play a specific role, however. He will get on one side of a watering hole where gazelles or wildebeests have chosen to bath. He will sit as tall as he possibly can, flare his mane, and let out a ferocious roar that would shake the nerves of any living creature within a fifty mile radius! The roar is supposed to scare the prey into running away. What the prey doesn’t know is that the lionesses have strategically placed themselves on the opposite side of the watering hole. So when the wildebeest is running away from the roar into what they think is safety, they are actually running straight into an ambush. If they would have run towards the roar, as counterintuitive and frightening as it may seem, they would have been able to scamper away into safety. The male lion's “bark" is much more dangerous than his bite.

Scripture says that our enemy, Satan, prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking whom he could devour. The reality is, if you are a Christian, you are not in danger of being devoured by the enemy. He has no claim over your life. You are a new creation, and you are no longer a slave to the curse of sin and death. But the enemy can -- and he will try to -- scare you into being devoured by pain and fear. In fact, his intention is to steal, kill and destroy. He wants to steal your joy, kill your hope, and destroy the purposes God has for your life.

What people will often do when they encounter a trial, a tragedy, or a painful experience is they will try to run away from the pain. Pain is terrifying. It’s messy. It sneaks up on you and can cripple you in an instant. It knocks the breath out of you. But it can’t kill you. Most people are fearful of stepping into the pain, letting their heart feel the full weight of it, working through it, and giving it over to the Lord. It makes you feel too exposed and vulnerable. And so they never actually come to a place of healing. What people try to do, instead, is box up the pain. They run away from it. The only problem is that by doing so they are running straight into an ambush. Months, years, even decades down the road it will sneak up on them and take them out. When you try to box up your pain, it booby-traps you later - this time with even more ferocity.

My family and I have decided to adopt Pastor Levi’s approach. Instead of running away from the pain we’ve decided to run toward it. We’ve decided to embrace it. We’ve decided to deal with it head-on. So when I’m driving down the road and a song comes on that reminds me of Amanda, instead of turning it off as fast as I can, I’ll listen to the whole thing. I may weep uncontrollably the whole time. On one occasion I had to pull the car over to the shoulder because I was crying so hard I couldn’t see the road in front of me. But that’s ok!

When people want to talk about Amanda, I gladly talk about her. I don’t shy away from conversations. It doesn’t matter how awkward or painful that conversation may be. When I get caught up daydreaming of a memory of Amanda, I let myself feel the full weight of the void. I don’t want to bottle it up and push it away. I don’t want it to booby-trap me later!

Perhaps the greatest example of running towards the roar I was faced with in my healing journey was going back into my house where Amanda was killed. As much as I didn’t want to step back into that living room where I found her, I knew I couldn’t keep that boxed up. So three months after she was killed, I returned to the house. As I walked across the threshold of the front door once again, I put worship music in my earbuds, walked over to the spot that I had found her, laid down, wept and prayed. And I’ll tell you, something miraculous happened. About 45 minutes of running towards the roar and I was better. I had released it all. The darkness that, in my mind, had hovered over that location was now taken captive by a risen Savior and I wasn’t afraid of it anymore. Initially when you run towards the roar it’s excruciating; but eventually it’s healing.

That’s the advice Kristi and I gave that girl that day. And that’s the same advice I would tell you.

For some reason -- whether for fear of the unknown vastness of what we may be stepping into or we feel like it’s not permitted -- we’ve been indoctrinated to avoid feeling the depth of our pain and grief. American Christianity has told us that keeping a straight face somehow shows a fortitude or faith. In actuality, it doesn’t prove either. What it does is numb your emotions. Numbing may sound nice when the alternative is feeling intense emotional pain, however you and I are incapable of selectively numbing. What I mean by that is you can’t choose to numb a certain negative emotion and all the while choose to turn the positive ones on at will. If you decide to callous-up and numb grief and sadness, you will by default also numb your ability to feel joy and elation. Numbing may keep you from the painful sides of this journey, but it also keeps at bay the delightful ones that God wants to bring you.

A concept in scripture that we don’t practice well in the Western world is lamenting. To lament means to mourn deeply. In ancient Judaism there were practices of mourning that included ripping one’s clothes, pouring ashes all over oneself, and ceasing all activity (including work) for a period of time to mourn. This intense and dedicated mourning process actually enabled the people to work through their loss in a much quicker timeline than what we’re able to in today's culture.

We tend to do the exact opposite of the ancient Jewish people. We numb. We distract. We avoid. When what we should do is mourn, and mourn deeply. Take the dedicated time, like Job did, to let all the emotions erupt from your being. As you build a capacity to endure the negative emotions head-on, your capacity to experience the positive ones will also increase. Scripture tells us, “weeping may last through the night, but joy comes in the morning (Psalm 30:5 NLT)”. The prerequisite to experiencing the joy is first entering into and enduring the weeping. If we’re going to be raised up to experience Jesus’ resurrection, we must first face this season of suffering.

QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION AND JOURNALING:

1. Have you ever let yourself feel the full breadth and depth of the emotions of your journey?

2. If so, how did you respond? What did physical grief look like for you? If not, what is keeping you from entering that path? 

3. What kinds of triggers might you have that you need to run toward instead of away from?

PRAYER:

Lord, help me to recognize the parts of my grief that I’ve not yet stepped into, and help me to have the courage to face them. I want to share in the glory of your resurrection, but in order to do so I know I must feel the full weight of suffering, as you did. Please give me the strength to do so.