February 21, 2011 When Man's Laws Get in the Way of God's

A friend of mine works for a company that has a military contract in one of those jobs containing a need-to-know clause…and I clearly do not need to know. Details are sketchy at best, but occasionally something pops up in the news that we’re able to discuss. Recently, events in Egypt prompted a conversation about Africa, Islam, and Christianity. My friend brought up the fact that in some African countries, it is against the law to proselytize. Christian missionaries know the law, agree to abide by it, and then enter the country to do exactly that. It had made an impression…a very negative impression. If anyone should abide by laws, it should be Christian missionaries!

I pointed out that the organization we had worked with many years ago took a more respectful approach. In countries that prohibited the preaching of the gospel, workers would enter the country and set up housekeeping, rather than an overt ministry. As they befriended nationals, questions would be asked and answered. In that way, they were able to stay under the radar while still sharing biblical truth.

Despite this approach, however, workers in the organization have been arrested. In fact, some of the staff we worked with in India had been arrested in Nepal and were required to periodically appear in court—as much a way of generating revenue from the seemingly endless fines as making a religious stand. They had shared the gospel in some way that had brought the law upon them, and they faced the consequences with neither regret nor self-righteous anger.

Religions are, by their very nature, intolerant. A devout Buddhist believes that Buddhism is The Way. A devout Hindu believes Krishna holds the answers to life. Animists, Muslims, Christians…if a person is sincerely convinced of the truth of a particular belief system, it is understandable that there would be no room for entertaining dialogue or discussion in which differing belief systems are placed on the same level playing field. But if we truly believe that our way is The Way, what is intimidating about listening while others share their own beliefs? At the worst, we are more convinced of our own beliefs in light of the error we hear. At best, our sharing sparks a desire in others to find out more about this Jesus person.

How does a committed Christian share the teachings of Jesus in a nation that outlaws them, or with people who are skeptical? In my friend’s case, the missionaries who chose to break the law of the land welcoming them across its borders were poor testimony to the gospel. Perhaps they were. Or perhaps they had such a genuine desire to see lives saved spiritually that they felt breaking man’s law was worth it for the sake of following God’s law of love. It is not for me to judge, even when I might have gone about things differently. Motivation is the key, and one person’s motivation can be completely different than another’s.

A conflicted young man confessed to me some years ago that he had contemplated suicide at one point. Only the fact that this would be a poor witness to his loved ones prevented him from following through. He felt it would have communicated that God was somehow powerless to help him in his situation. He didn’t believe that—he was mostly just tired of the struggle—but he didn’t want to be the reason others gave up on seeking the Lord.

The desire to be a “good witness” routinely offers certain guidelines and boundaries to our behavior. Missionaries faced with laws in other lands may well decide that breaking them would be a “poor witness.” Still, there are times when it may be more spiritual to “color outside the lines.” Some Christians would never consider entering a bar, or talking to a prostitute, or any number of other “worldly” activities…and yet, Jesus neither placed such restrictions on us nor lived by them himself. The religious people of his day repeatedly condemned him for being a friend of sinners, hanging out with the ungodly…yet without sin. Peter was told not to preach by those in charge, but went ahead boldly, aware that he was putting himself in harm’s way by doing so.

Personally, I believe that we should never try to put God into a box. We shouldn’t present God with our own agendas and demand that he make them work. Send me anywhere but there, Lord. I’ll follow you, but not to a place that isn’t safe and clean. I will show love to the non-believer, but only the ones that smell nice and belong to my own social strata. I would never do THAT…that couldn’t be the Holy Spirit! Get behind me, Satan.

Our agendas must be a constant source of entertainment in heaven. The best laid plans of mice and men will always go astray, while the Holy Spirit uses even our ridiculous ideas for his ultimate purposes. The “I would never do that”s and the “God would never tell me to go there”s don’t even register as blips on the screen of eternity. We are neither important nor powerful enough to foil his plans, even when we think we are doing it all for God.

Does that mean we should throw caution to the wind and do whatever we wish, trusting that God will work it all out eventually? Of course not. The laws of God are pure and righteous, and we are always on better, more solid, ground, when we obey them. However, when we substitute man’s laws for God’s and try to label them anew, we are in no better shape than when we blatantly disobey. And when we fail and fall and take wrong turns and go out of our way to do the wrong things for the right reasons and the right things for the wrong reasons and the wrong things for the wrong reasons…we really CAN trust God to make it right and to use our weaknesses and folly for his glory.

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“By faith Abraham, when called to go to a place he would later receive as his inheritance, obeyed and went, even though he did not know where he was going”

(Hebrews 11:8, NIV).

I have moved a lot in my life—South Carolina to North, North Carolina to Florida, back to North Carolina for short spurts, to India and back. In St. Lucie County, Florida, alone, I lived in 14 different houses. When we moved to Lillington in 2005, I thought we would be here forever. When we moved into the house we are currently in, I thought it was the last house I would live in, the last move.

Abraham may have thought his location was secure as well. He and his wife Sarah (at the time, of course, they were known as Abram and Sarai) had been in Ur all their lives. They knew their neighbors, hung out with the same folks every evening to watch the stars, knew the best guy to go to for a tent repair or new camel.

And then God upset the fig cart. He has a way of doing that.

When we moved to North Carolina this time, the only people we knew in Harnett County were our daughter and her husband. It was strange, after living in one location for most of the previous 38 years, to go to the grocery store and not see a single familiar face. Everyone was a stranger—friendly, but unknown.

Getting involved in a great church and community theater, putting the grandkids in school, eventually going to work part-time…these things expanded my frame of reference. When I go to the post office, I am greeted by name. There are friends I regularly meet for lunch. My number is logged into numerous cell phone contact lists; numerous contacts are logged into mine. The number of Facebook friends locally exceeds, probably, the number who lives elsewhere.

I’ve settled in. I’ve gotten comfortable. And you know what that means.

My husband decided around Christmas time that when our house sells (assuming it does) he believes we should return to Florida. His parents and two brothers are there. Our oldest son is there. Real estate is definitely a buyer’s market there, potentially enabling us to check off all the items left on Dave Ramsey’s baby step list and move us into financial freedom. All good reasons, but the most important is that he believes it is God’s leading. He was so adamant that he would never live in Florida again (it was the heat), he says that simply the awareness of newfound desire to return is compelling evidence.

The ancient Jews journeyed, long after their forefather Abraham paved the way in faith, to the Promised Land. It was a land flowing with milk and honey, but there were also giants in the land. The “promise” wasn’t of a life of ease and plenty, but the place with and in which God chose to bless them.

During our recent study of the book Radical we got into a discussion of the saying that goes “the safest place on earth is in the center of God’s will.” As it was presented in the book, “safe” doesn’t always mean safe from harm or conflict. God has sent many, many people into harm’s way for the sake of the gospel. Foxe’s Book of Martyrs contains some of their stories, but the real record will only be known in heaven. All over the world, Christians suffer and die because of their obedience to Christ. Every day.

Still, would a person be “safer” outside of God’s will? Safer, perhaps, in terms of length of life or absence of hardship, but the blessing of God transcends these things. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the best place to be is in the center of his will…even if it means packing up the household AGAIN and launching out into the deepest depths of south Florida.

Of course, a move this time can not possibly be expedited prematurely, outside of God’s plan and purposes. We can not move until our house sells. Abram and Sarai pulled up tent stakes, loaded down the animals, and they were out of there—the Gillettes will need considerably more prep time.

And too, returning to an area with which we are familiar, containing a ready-made set of family and friends, has its frightening aspects. There are giants in the land! We have enjoyed living in a quieter area, contending with less traffic, being a part of a community that lives its faith more openly than in more metropolitan parts of the country. I have family who live close by that I hate to leave. I’ve made what I hope are lifelong relationships that will be difficult to see change, to insert greater distance. A whole new set of personal challenges await. Knowing I can trust God...when I am in that frame of mind...means seeing these challenges as new opportunities for God to work out his purposes. The problem is, my trust level fluctuates.

During winter, a farmer looks over seed catalogues, plans the upcoming growing season, sharpens his tools. In a way, this season of our life is not only actual winter, but also the same sort of preparation time. We’re throwing things out, packing up nonessentials. My husband is (obsessively!) looking online at homes for sale in Florida. It could take another year to sell; it could take a week. There is that feeling of “being ready” at all times that is at the same time exciting and exhausting.

Change is not always good (as we frequently see after elections) but when God changes direction, we can always trust, as Abraham did, that he knows exactly what he is doing. Even when we do not. Which is, actually, why it requires faith in the first place.

P.S. Within hours after writing this, an offer was made on our property. It looks like change is imminent!

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January 24, 2011 The Blogger Takes a Holiday

I’ve been writing these essays for awhile now, religiously submitting them every two weeks, but I missed my deadline completely on January 17. I suppose I could blame it on Martin Luther King, Jr.’s birthday, but for the first time in several years, I was not out early to enjoy a Unity prayer breakfast.

My husband, whose work only shuts down for Thanksgiving and Christmas, had worked over the weekend and had Monday off too. Instead of fostering better racial relations in the community or attending a parade in the surrounding area, we cleaned out our garage.

It took all morning. “Are you ever going to use this again?” “How much is this worth?” “What is this?” Once motivated to de-clutter, David’s enthusiasm borders on obsession. No, it is an obsession. Which is why I insinuated myself into the process. Otherwise, the cradle my father made for our first child (the one with the broken piece we haven’t seen in years) would have very possibly ended up on the discard pile. (“But we don’t need this!”)

The afternoon was spent, on a computer just slighter younger than I am and with less-than-lightning-speed Internet service, posting items to sell on craigslist.com and monitoring e-mail from potential (and gratifyingly numerous) buyers.

Later in the week, when a black gentleman navigated the adventurous road leading to our house in order to pick up one of the freebies (a punching bag formerly used for anger management) I thought about the Big Picture as it related to Monday’s national holiday.

Our home, far off the main road, is in a predominately black section of the county. At least for several square miles, we represent the minority. We’ve never had a problem, never felt unwelcome, never been threatened or ostracized. How different might our experience have been had we lived prior to Dr. King and the civil rights movement and had we been a black family moving into a predominately white area?

Sometimes, because prejudice, fear, hate, and anger can still be passed on to children regardless of changes in law and public policy, we forget how far our country as come. And because the United States is a relatively young nation, we lack the historical perspective older world powers possess.

To China, India, Europe, 148 years is a drop in the proverbial bucket. That’s how long it has been, though, since Lincoln’s Emancipation Proclamation freed slaves in America. The Civil Rights movement came a hundred years later – I’m older than it is.

And yet, in this relatively short period of history, so much of the nation’s ugliness has been eliminated. Jim Crow laws that seem now so ridiculous, so small-minded and stupid, are extinct. Dr. King didn’t do it himself, of course. He was joined by others, blacks and whites who were raised up at a crucial time for a crucial purpose, but his was the voice that unified their concerns and translated them for the rest of the world.

God has always seemed to prefer raising up one individual to prove himself strong on the behalf of many. Esther was a foreign queen who risked her life to save the Jews. Paul was transformed from a hunter of Christians to a teacher of Christians. C.T. Studd left his homeland and wealth to spread the gospel. Billy Graham saw his vision for taking a simple message to the world fulfilled.

God chooses, the word says, “the low and despised in the world, things that are not, to reduce to nothing things that are, so that no one might boast” (1 Corinthians 1:28-29). He chooses those who are, by others’ standards, weak and foolish, young and inexperienced. Low and despised.

Young and foolish? Sounds like a lot of folks I know. Weak? Sounds like me. Made available to God’s will and empowered by the Holy Spirit, however, he can do wonders through anyone.

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January 3, 2011 Seasons

TO EVERYTHING there is a season,
and a time for every matter or purpose under heaven:
A time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to pluck up what is planted,
A time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to break down and a time to build up,
A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance,
A time to cast away stones and a time to gather stones together,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
A time to get and a time to lose, a time to keep and a time to cast away,
A time to rend and a time to sew,
a time to keep silence and a time to speak,
A time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.
What profit remains for the worker from his toil?
I have seen the painful labor and exertion and miserable business which God has given to the sons of men
with which to exercise and busy themselves.
He has made everything beautiful in its time.
He also has planted eternity in men's hearts and minds
[a divinely implanted sense of a purpose working through the ages which nothing under the sun but God alone can satisfy],
yet so that men cannot find out what God has done
from the beginning to the end.
I know that there is nothing better for them than to be glad
and to get and do good as long as they live;
and also that every man should eat and drink
and enjoy the good of all his labor--it is the gift of God.

(Ecclesiastes 3:1-13, Amplified Bible).

The beginning of the year seems a good time to look at the Teacher’s immortal words above. For thousands of years these verses have been set down on plaques, woven into tapestries, stitches onto samplers, recorded as pop music, quoted in and out of context…seldom lived by.

I don’t know about you, but I have a tendency to want to have things change NOW, not wait for the proper season. I planted those seeds yesterday! Why is there no fruit?

I’m good with the whole “there is a time to be born” thing, the laughing, the embracing. I can sew, stack stones, keep, speak. I can enjoy dancing without being “a dancer.” I want to live, encourage, and nurture a peaceful environment. I don’t love well enough, but I easily buy into the need to work on that area. But a time to die? To pluck up what has been carefully cultivated? I don’t want to lose or mourn or weep or hate or kill…and yet there is an appropriate time, biblically, for all of those things to occur.

There is a season for everything.

There is a time for every matter.

We usually read the words so quickly, but “every” is an awesome idea. It means ALL. EACH. If we have settled in our minds and hearts that God exists, then we must also believe that everything is under control.

Did you lose a job? Get evicted? God is still on the throne.

Is your marriage in trouble? Your children making poor choices? God is still on the throne.

Are you struggling with a decision? Wishing life was different? God is still on the throne.

I’m right there with you. At this moment, I am keenly aware of many things in my own life and in the lives of those I love that I cannot “fix” even if my desire is to do just that. Looking at them from every possible angle until I have a crook in my neck, there are no words I can say to make them all better. There is nothing I can do to straighten the tangles out—broken relationships impossible for me to restore. Physical and financial difficulties completely beyond my abilities and means.

And yet, if I believe the words of Ecclesiastes, I must accept the fact that in God’s plan, there is a time for that sick loved one to die. The estranged couple I pray for may need to “refrain from embracing.” That family in need make be going through a God-ordained “time to break” for reasons I could never imagine. A dream may need to die. Even hate and war and killing have their place in the universe.

For what it’s worth, I don’t get it most of the time. I fume and worry and overthink things until the crook in my neck turns me into a pain. But God makes “all things beautiful” in his own time. Happiness isn’t the only thing, but apparently the creator of the universe ranks it fairly high, where his children are concerned. “Be happy and enjoy (your)selves as long as (you) live,” he is telling us.

Through his word, it is as if God says, “Eat, drink, take pleasure in the things and people and emotions and senses I’ve given you. Just realize that in my plan, there are cycles of growth and decay, life and death, building up and tearing down. Things will happen that do not promote ‘happiness’ today…but you can trust me with tomorrow. I will still be on the throne.”

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December 20, 2010 Another Year Under a Widening Belt

“Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Colossians 1:27).

“Those who obey His commands live in Him and He in them”
(I John 3:24).

Writes Max Lucado:

“Take note of the precious preposition ‘in.’ Christ isn’t just near you or for you or with you; he longs to be in you. God offers you the same Christmas gift he gave Mary-- the indwelling Christ. Christ grew in her until he came out. Christ will grow in you until the same occurs. Christ will come out in your speech, in your actions, in your decisions. Every place you live will be a Bethlehem and everyday you live will be a Christmas. You, like Mary, will deliver Christ into the world. “

What a frightening thought that for some people, the Christ I deliver to them in my words and actions could be the only Jesus they experience! This weekend I celebrated my 53rd birthday and can say with discouraging confidence that the Christ I have delivered to family, friends, and strangers over the last half-century and change is not the Christ I long to encounter at life’s end.

That Jesus is always, always merciful. I have harbored, on far too many occasions, a well-covered desire for punishment to befall those guilty of real and supposed offenses against me or my loved ones. They have it coming, don’t they?

That Jesus is always, always loving. If I’m brutally honest, there is a pitifully short list of people I have deemed worthy of my love; in contrast, Jesus’ list includes every person on the planet. I have spoken biting words of sarcasm when he would have softly whispered, “I love you even now.” I have let resentments build and boil over when his love would have …has…covered a multitude of sins (see 1 Peter 4:8).

The Jesus I want to be like is holy. Holier-than-thou isn’t the same thing, unfortunately! My sins may look, compared to some and through equally sinful eyes, not too too bad. But if the standard is Christ, his holiness shining through this weak vessel has been effectively diluted and filtered out by my cares for the world, my selfishness, my unholiness. To be holy is to be set apart, kept for God’s purposes. How many purposes have been put into place, and fulfilled, by…me? Apart from God, not set apart for him. The Bible calls all that stuff wood, hay, and stubble, destined to be burned up. Only what God has wrought in our lives will stand the test of fire (see 1 Corinthians 3:12).

The Jesus who will greet me one day loves justice. Although it seemed, growing up, that I never got away with anything, I have. If I’ve been consistently caught with my hand in the cookie jar, I owe it to God’s loving discipline, not my own desire to stick to the straight and narrow. And if people could read my thoughts, as God can, and does? As horrible as my words and actions have been for five decades, my thoughts have been far worse. I do not want justice for myself because it would mean extreme punishment, even death (see Romans 6:23).

And yet…when I was younger, I would look at my elders and sometimes hear them speak of regrets. They wished they had gone further in school, taken another job, moved to another city, married someone else. They wished they had committed their lives to the Lord sooner. They wished they had taken better care of themselves.

At 53, I would love to go back to school and further my own education—but apparently it is God’s will that I be around to help my grandkids with their homework. Instead of gaining head knowledge I may never need or use, I have the opportunity to teach them every day. My lessons aren’t always positive, but it is a positive part of life. And nothing can stop an inquisitive person from learning, whether inside university walls or not.

I missed out on a career while homeschooling and raising four children, but those years represent the happiest (and busiest) time of my life. My jobs, when I finally ventured outside the home, have been rewarding.

When I was a child, we moved from the mountains of North Carolina to Florida’s southeast coast; I grumbled the whole way, determined not to like my parent’s choice. Had the Lord not led us there, I wouldn’t have married my husband. Four wonderful children would not have been born. Ditto for three grandchildren. And who would have guessed I would travel to Jamaica, India, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Thailand? That I would have preferred staying longer on foreign soil doesn’t rob the richness of our experiences.

My parents took us to church whenever the doors were open, and made sure that we were raised in an environment of unconditional love and faith. Even though I didn’t have a deep enough understanding to commit myself to Christ until I was a teenager, I know that the decision was honestly my own.

When I started writing this, I got choked up with a sense of my shortcoming and faults. Clearly, I’ve got lots of work to do…or rather, the Lord’s completed work (see Colossians 2:9, 10) may need many more years to shine through this thick skull and carnal shell. On the other hand, I’ve finished up smiling at the gracious things he has allowed me to experience. I have known mercy. I have known love. I have known the joy of accomplishing tasks and reaching goals. I haven’t been rich (by my standards) but I also haven’t been poor (again, by my standards).

I’ve fallen down more times than I care to say. But the Lord has always pulled me back up to my feet, brushed me off, and said, one more time, “Follow me.” No matter how many times he says it, it is never with impatience, as if he knew I would fall in the first place. Hmmm.

So, I guess it’s one of those paradoxes of life that while I have many, many regrets as to my own choices of behavior, I have no regrets at all in the way the Lord has led me during the last 53 years. There are things I don’t understand and will probably never understand this side of heaven. I still get angry about some of the things he has allowed to happen, still pout occasionally and feel sorry for myself that Life refuses to treat me as the center of the universe. But I can truly say that in all things and at all times, his grace has been and continues to be sufficient.

He might have suggested exercising a little sooner, though.

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December 6, 2010 I Do's and Didn'ts

On December 4, 1976, a man and a woman stood before family and friends. They had entered through different doors—he, with his groomsmen; she, on her daddy’s arm. They had never been so dressed up in their lives, and were unlikely to ever do so again.

The minister addressed the congregation: “Dearly Beloved, we are gathered together here in the sight of God – and in the face of this company – to join together this man and this woman in holy matrimony, which is commended to be honorable among all men; and therefore – is not by any – to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly – but reverently, discreetly, advisedly and solemnly. Into this holy estate these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together – let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

No one said a word.

At some point, the minister continued, “Do you, David (for that was the name of the man, almost 26) take Ellen (for that was the name of the woman, or rather teenager…not quite 19) to be your wife – to live together after God’s ordinance – in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and continually bestow upon her your heart’s deepest devotion, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto her as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” David answered, and he meant it.

But he hasn’t always lived up to his words, not really. He hasn’t always even done his best. He has broken that vow on countless occasions, and rarely even said he was sorry when he did. His wife has, at times, felt the opposite of his intention that day—felt unloved. She has been full of sadness along the way and he would tell you that he has been one of the main causes. His violence to the vows has been, however, relatively mild. Sins of omission. While he has not always cherished, he most definitely has kept her around, when lesser men would have chosen to do otherwise.

“Do you Ellen take David to be your husband – to live together after God’s ordinance – in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you love him, comfort him, honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in sadness and in joy, to cherish and continually bestow upon him your heart’s deepest devotion, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” she said. I said it, and I meant it. But I haven’t. Not even close. I haven’t done my best to love and comfort. I have dishonored him, dishonored our marriage. Caused him sadness, made things worse. Mine have been more the sins of commission—hurtful sins of thought, word, and deed. I have not always forsaken others, certainly not myself and my own selfishness. And yet, I am still here, kept by the strength of a commitment made long ago, a commitment made strong not by my own will or David’s, but by the grace and according to the will of God himself.

Thirty-four years ago this month, we stated other vows as we exchanged rings. There was special music and candles. We kissed. The minister introduced us as Mr. and Mrs. David Gillette, and we walked down the aisle, this time together. This time, leaving through the same door and out into a new life and world. Two made one. Mr. and Mrs.

Over Thanksgiving I had the pleasure of visiting with a young man at whose own wedding our oldest son had been a groomsman. I remember sitting beside my sister-in-law as we watched the group—so young!—go through the ceremony. At one point I leaned over to her and whispered, “Do you think we should tell them?”

She knew exactly what I meant.

Weddings are wonderful, full of joy and hope and love. We get all dressed up, but truly, metaphorically, we never get that dressed up again. Reality takes over. Bills mount. Children come, and when they come, sometimes they misbehave. Sometimes they get sick. Sometimes they die. Jobs are changed and lost. Houses are rented, bought, sold, repaired, burned to the ground. With every harsh word, there is someone waiting in the wings to make it, it would seem, all better again.

Statistically speaking, about half of all marriages end in divorce, even among Christians. The amazing thing is not that this is true but that it’s only half…a full 100 percent of marriages exist between fallen, imperfect men and fallen, imperfect women. There is not a marriage anywhere, at any time, that does not—or will not—face challenges. That any of us survives is a testimony to God’s awesome keeping power.

Surely it isn’t the words we spoke, or the clothes we wore, or the rings we slipped on slightly trembling fingers. We often forget that in the midst of all the preparations, the flowers and engraved invitations, that God himself was invited to the wedding too. “In his sight.” He has a vested interest in marriage, it being his idea and all. He will, given even the slightest of opportunities, work wonders in the area of beating the odds.

There are a whole bunch of folks who never thought David and I would make it to Anniversary #34, the two of us and our children included. But we did. And, barring tragedy, we will make it to #35 and beyond.

Mind you, it won’t be easy. It won’t ever be easy. Husbands and wives, David and Ellen, and you and your spouses, will break our vows in little ways and big on an annoyingly regular basis. Each break results in a frayed edge to the fabric of marriage, a rip, an unsightly gap, a nasty stain.

Fortunately, God has always been in the mending business. Not every rip in the fabric of a marriage can be restored, certainly, but as long as there is a willingness to look back on those vows, as long as even a whisper of their original meaning remains true, miracles can still happen. Every day.


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November 22, 2010 Emotional Stew

Today is the anniversary of the assassination of President John F. Kennedy. I was just a little girl when the television announcer interrupted regular programming with the news, but I well remember being bundled into the car with my mother to go to school and pick up my big sister. It was a time of national tragedy—not the last I would observe in my own lifetime, or the greatest, but certainly my first experience with seeing the adults around me so affected by the death of a person they had never met.

A friend of mine was a new mother when she heard the news while scrubbing her kitchen floor, and she dissolved into tears. Her life had been full of difficulties, suffering, abuse, neglect, yet she had never shed tears for herself. Now, alone on the linoleum, hearing the radio’s somber report, she began to sob. All the heartache building up for two decades overflowed.

This has been an emotional week for me, but for no apparent reason. I heard of someone’s work woes in another state and teared up. A dog was lost; I cried. A completely unrelated situation dissolved into a flashback regarding something that occurred thirty years ago and it was all I could do to fight back the emotion that suddenly welled up. I hurt for friends who were hurting, boohooed at a teacher’s conference, excused myself from a group of people to go off by myself and cry in the hallway.

Hormones? Stress? The stubborn and permanent undercurrent of grief that is always just under the surface? Vitamin deficiency? What was wrong with me?

Actually, nothing. Emotions are not wrong. Or right. They just are. It’s what we do with them that brings positive or negative consequences. Christians sometimes downplay the importance of emotions, lumping them in with the flesh (bad flesh! bad! bad! die to the flesh!) forgetting that God himself is a God of emotions.

The 19th century writer and preacher Charles Finney wrote that “the Bible ascribes love, hatred, anger, repentance, grief, compassion, indignation, abhorrence, patience, long-suffering, joy and every other affection and emotion of a moral being, to God.” The Psalms and writings of the Old Testament prophets are especially profound in their descriptions of God’s heart rejoicing over his people’s return to him…or grieving over their betrayal and rejection of his love.

The Bible also has a lot to say about our emotions, which makes sense. We are made in God’s image. If he is an emotional being, so am I.

I for one, take great comfort in this. Some ideologies try to promote a worship of God that is innately cerebral. Yawn. The God who created duck-billed platypuses (platypi?), rainbows, blue morpho butterlies, constellations, and sex is not a God of drudging dreariness. We try to limit God to so many words on a page while he calls us to look up as he paints a sunset. He delights over us! He wants us to delight in him! Delighting is an emotional experience!

Other emotions are not as welcome when they show up, but they are no less important, no less valid. I’m thinking that in God’s design, the sadder side of emotion has a cleansing purpose. “A broken and contrite heart” the psalmist wrote, “God will not despise” (Psalm 51:17). The woman scrubbing her floor had never addressed the deep pain within her, had never gone to counseling, had never “opened up” about the tragedies of her childhood or those she faced at that time. Kennedy’s death lifted the lid off her emotional box, so to speak.

This week, maybe that’s what happened on a smaller scale in my own life. Perhaps once in awhile our emotions need to overflow as a stopgap—not a substitute for dealing with the deeper issues in our lives, but a temporary device to let off a little steam until such time as we, with God’s grace, are called to devote the necessary time and attention to them.

It’s never just about the Hallmark commercial.