What would you like to rest from right now?
Have you ever felt the fatigue of trying to be nice when you are actually quite upset at someone else—and maybe for good reason?
Perhaps there is an easier way than trying so hard.
Long ago and far away, I was involved in planning a big event. There was a meeting and some discussion that resulted in agreement on one particular detail that aligned well with our organization’s objectives.
(And with one of my own highest personal values).
When the time came to rehearse, I showed up on time and was surprised to see that the practice was already well underway—and that the coordinator had completely disregarded our prior agreement.
Something inside of me flipped upside down and anger spilled all over the place.
Forcing a smile I managed a very superficial greeting and joined in, going through the motions while chairing a committee of conflicting thoughts in my head about what to say and how to react.
I opted for nothing and neutral (which was the wisest choice at that point in time) and left the moment we were finished.
Those angry feelings propelled me as I anticipated unloading my burden on someone else—but Ricardo wasn’t home yet. I reached for my phone to call a family member, only to realize I’d left it behind in my haste to get out of there.
Exhaling, I changed, crawled into bed, and looked up at the ceiling. I really wanted to complain to someone.
“Well, God,” I said, “I guess I’m going to have to talk to you about this.”
Apparently I assumed that this meant praying for strength to wrestle my angry feelings into submission and to return to a state of niceness towards all people.
Pulling the covers close, I considered reasons why the coordinator might have made such a change without even telling me. There was at least one understandable explanation, but I didn’t buy it and it didn’t make me feel any better.
“OK, God, how do you want me to view these people—how do I see them through your eyes?”
I was completely unprepared for what happened next.
In response, a thought not my own—that still, small voice—whispered:
“Ask me how I view you.”
I began to weep, overwhelmed by the compassion and gentleness of that answer and the continued whispers. The following thoughts flooded in and my anger evaporated.
“I am proud of you. You wanted what was good. I approve of you. I appreciate your work. I have your back…”
They say anger masks deeper, more uncomfortable emotions like sadness, embarrassment, and hurt, and although I hadn’t paused to recognize what was hidden in my anger at that moment, the awareness of God’s feelings for me brought comfort and relief.
And, just like that, I was no longer concerned about the coordinator and the team. I didn’t agree with the decision and disappointing outcome, but I felt free.
The Apostle John (who wrote letters imploring readers to love God and each other) spells out the starting point:
“We love him because he first loved us” (1 John 4:19).
Knowing you are loved and feeling understood changes everything.
Now, years later, this experience also speaks to me about the freedom and rest that come from being our own separate selves before God alone—which also makes it easier to relinquish control over situations and people.
I’ve been thinking about that this weekend as we celebrate Gabriel’s graduation from university. Releasing another person to become themselves—especially when that person is your precious child—can be tricky, but that separateness opens up so much space for everyone to learn, grow, and love.
And still we grow closer in love, because even in our separateness, nothing can separate us from the healing, bonding love God.
“For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (the Apostle Paul in Romans 8:38-39).
May love surround you and yours.
Until next week,
Alicia