Resurrecting the God of Love

Some days can get intense, and we feel overwhelmed. It’s easy to imagine how that plays out. For example, if a busy mom with a demanding job finds herself stretched thin— resolving complaints from clients, working with annoying colleagues, and trying to figure out how to correct the latest program mix-up—she is primed to lose it. If on top of all that, her youngest is unruly that evening, the child stands a good chance of catching a scolding that stings with the bottled-up anger of the mother’s rough day at work.

In our own ways, we have been there. We too may regret what we say or do when we are carried away by overwhelming feelings. But the road to a loving life starts with a patient and attentive respect for our feelings. It might take us a while to put our finger on just what those feelings are. Learning to pause and notice our feelings is not a onetime accomplishment; it can be a gradual stumble along the right path.

Over time we recognize the situations that push our buttons. Maybe we don’t like being told what to do or what not to do. Perhaps we are impatient with the arrogant or patronizing. If we pay attention to whatever trips the switch inside us, we can learn what it feels like when we are beginning to give in to our feelings. This is the moment to take a step away from the brewing conflict.

The step might be deliberately holding our tongue, taking a breath, and letting the moment pass without lashing out. The step might be literally walking away or saying something neutral that neither aggravates the situation nor lessens it.

Managing our feelings in a spiritually and psychologically mature way asks more of us than making a mental note in

passing. Self-management requires patient commitment, a reflective spirit, and regular practice. The self-discipline involved is much like the focus of a dedicated athlete, dancer, or musician.

² We may gain powerful perspective on our personal truth through journaling.

For many of us, the practice of journaling is an especially effective way to get in touch with our feelings and what those feelings say about us. Writing in a personal journal is not the same as recording daily activities or keeping a health log. Journaling is strictly private, so there is no need for lengthy details or self-conscious phrasing. In a journal entry, we write candidly about how we feel and what we’re thinking—not every day but when the Spirit moves us, perhaps especially when we know we’re dealing with turbulent emotions.

The act of writing coaxes us into naming our inner experience, sometimes in ways we hadn’t registered before. As Thérèse described her autobiographical writing, “It is like fishing with a line; I write whatever comes to the end of my pen.”60

The process of writing offers discoveries and awareness. In the privacy of our journal, we can be unsparingly honest with ourselves and with God. We may find tears welling up when we name a painful loss or betrayal. The urge to write something down comes when things aren’t sorted out inside. Something may bother us, something not right. At other times, the overwhelming experience of joy or gratitude may prompt

us to write, or an approaching event or life transition might demand our attention.

Whatever moves us, we begin by noticing what is stirring within, responding to whatever question starts us writing, such as: Which feelings have me in their grip, pushing me around? What is that about? What is my heart’s yearning?

The process of journaling for a few minutes or half an hour is a focused way to engage in the reflection that makes inner freedom possible. We come to know our personal vulnerabilities, the pain in our hearts, and the desires that fill us. We may gain honest insight into how we can do our best to love others without doing violence to our limited selves. We grow into the spacious joy of our truth in God.

Journal writing isn’t for everyone. Whatever form of reflection we choose, regular practice opens our hearts to the slow work of healing on our journey to emotional and spiritual maturity.

² Not taking things personally is a form of emotional self-discipline that makes space for our inner freedom.

When we take things personally, we act as if whatever is going on is essentially about us. We put ourselves at the center of a drama someone else is creating and allow ourselves to be invaded by the feelings that have been stimulated. Perhaps we jump in and take a side in a debate that other people are having. Or we may feel flooded with excessive distress or guilt over a national or international crisis. Perhaps we get tangled up in the angry or anxious feelings of a friend

or relative, forgetting that the situation they are facing is theirs, not ours.

Not taking these things personally means not letting the emotional energy of the other individual or the situation take over our inner experience. Not taking things personally means keeping an inner distance, a capacity to observe what we’re feeling and to make a decision about how or whether to act.

Sometimes it’s best to let go of a desire to make a big deal of something, such as the aggressive driver cutting us off on the highway or the clerk locking the store in our face, two minutes before closing time. On the other hand, if we determine that we have at least a small role to play in a situation—for example, a political issue—then we can do something that represents our values and trust others to do the same. If we find ourselves listening to another person who is dealing with many challenges, we can offer empathy and support while doing our best to keep our emotional balance.

Noticing our feelings and, when we can, taking ourselves out of the center of a drama requires patience, practice, and a willingness to not give up on ourselves. What we know from her writings is that Thérèse learned to move from being at war with her feelings, to being curious about them, to reflecting on the truths they might be telling her, and finally to creatively responding to a situation with as much self-possession as she could manage. Inner freedom is the heart quality that invites our best self to take the lead, released from the grip of any initial feelings that might arise when we are provoked or upset.