The Storm: When Emotions Collide

The Storm: When Emotions Collide

“Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble, and He brought them out of their distress. He stilled the storm to a whisper; the waves of the sea were hushed.” 

Psalm 107:28–29

     It might sound odd, but I love storms.  Not hurricanes or floods, but I love sitting in my enclosed back porch, watching the rain fall, hearing the sound of thunder, watching the leaves blow.  I am a hopeless romantic because I have always wanted to dance in the rain.  Storms can be so beneficial because they provide rain, can cool temperatures, and show an awesome display of God's power.  Storms can also be destructive.  I remember when a storm assaulted our home in West Virginia.  It destroyed our roof, our power was out for almost two weeks, and we lost all our food in the freezer.  Grief can be a lot like a storm.  It can be gentle, reminding us of the beautiful things about our loved one. To the surprise of many, grief isn't always tears or sadness; sometimes grief is laughter and smiles.  But other times the storm of grief feels like it's tearing us apart.  It can hurt, hurt down to the bone.

     Grief often feels like standing in the middle of a storm. The winds of sorrow whip against your heart, the waves of loneliness crash over your soul, and the thunder of unanswered questions shakes your faith. As a widower, I know what it is to feel the storm raging inside—anger, confusion, despair, and longing, all colliding in ways I never expected.  A grief storm is a combination of emotions, each emotion by itself so taxing that it wears you out, but combined together, it seems like it will destroy you.  That is one of the hardest adjustments, the difficultly managing intense emotions that overwhelm you.  Not just intense emotions, but emotions that are unfamiliar unless you are grieving.  These emotions aren't ones that most people understand, and thankfully so.  I'll give you an example: most people grieving want to die and be with their spouse, BUT a large majority would never hurt themselves nor have suicidal thoughts.  The zest for life dims and you have to fight for positive emotions that were otherwise natural and normal.

     There are days when the storm is quiet, and I can almost see the sun breaking through.  I remember the first time that I really laughed.  It was roughly a month after my wife passed away.  I was connecting with another person who lost their spouse, and I found myself laughing and smiling.  Those were normal for me prior to losing my wife, but they became foreign over the course of her cancer journey and passing.  I missed the jovial, happy moments.  But then, without warning, emotions rage again, and I’m tossed about by the pain of what I’ve lost. It’s in those moments that I remember Jesus asleep in the boat while the disciples panicked (Mark 4:35-41). They cried out, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?” I’ve asked the same of God—“Don’t You see me here? Don’t You care that I feel like I’m drowning?”  Some of you reading this might ask, "How can you question God and ask Him does He really care?"  Theologically, I know God cares.  But when life gets hard, you start asking hard questions.  You get honest with God.  God's big enough for my fears, my doubts, my anger, my resentment, my depression, my anxiety, and the list could go on and on.  I've asked God, do you care.  The old hymn says, "yes He cares, I know He cares."  My brain knows it's true, my soul knows it's true, but my heart wrestles with this from time to time.  It's not an indictment against God.  It's not a lack of faith or doubting God.  It's faith facing unbridled human emotions.

     But just as He did then, Jesus speaks now. He does not always remove the storm immediately, but He whispers peace into my spirit: “Be still.” The sea inside me doesn’t always calm right away, but His presence reminds me I am not abandoned in the waves.  The storm still rages.  It's been nineteen months since a cancer diagnosis, nine months since she passed away, and while the storm is calmer, it still remains hard at times, unpredictable too.  I haven't expected the storm to end, but I have come to trust His unfailing presence along the way.  He is unrelenting in His love for me.  He won't let go of me.  He holds me in the palm of His hand.

     If you are grieving, if your emotions are raging like a storm, know this: you are not alone in the boat. The One who commands the wind and waves is with you. He sees your fear, your pain, and your questions. And He is strong enough to hold you until the storm settles.  The Lord knows the storm that rages within you.  Some days the waves are big, the current almost too strong.  You might even wonder if you can make it one more day.  You desire to die and go home to be with your loved one.  In those moments, ask Jesus to speak peace into your hurting  heart.  Ask Him to hold you and to remind you that He will not fail you or abandon you in this storm.

Reflection

• What “waves” feel strongest in your grief right now? Fear, loneliness, anger, or something else?
• How might God be inviting you to cry out to Him in the middle of your storm instead of trying to weather it alone?