I'd rather hurt...

As of late, me and the other ladies in my office have been singing (and swooning over!) "I Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum. It captures the aching and the longing women are so susceptible to in romance. There's something truly hot about it.

Aside from the fact that I just love the song, there's one particular line that has captured my attention lately. At one point the music cuts out and the lovers sing to each other:

"I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all."

It's an interesting assertion. Definitely counter-intuitive. But there's something about it that rings true.

In his book Behind the Glittering Mask, the former president of Southeastern, Dr. Mark Rutland (one of my personal heroes!), takes on the seven deadly sins in the format of a debate between Michael and Lucifer. As they take on the subject of sloth, the content of Michael's rebuttal is enlightening.

He asserts that the reason that the apathy and even refusal to be moved to fervor that are characteristic of the slothful are counted such a sin is because they are so contrary to the nature of God. He describes God as pure being of ardent passion. When He is delighted all of heaven tremors from the sheer weight of His divine joy. When His wrath is unleashed the mountains melt like wax. He is the antonym of apathy; there is nothing about Him that lends to disengagement. He is Love. He cannot but care. Mere mortals cannot conceive of the absolute passion that is the heart of God. (Paraphrasing here.)

So perhaps the reason that we are so aghast by a person who blithely refuses to engage in the proper manner... a person impervious to passion, unyielding to wonder... is that a refusal to stand in awe, a refusal to care, a refusal to act when action is justly called for are so contradictory to the nature of God: passion in action. The Love that leads to the cross; it's who He is. And sloth is a contradiction.

So perhaps there's something of the image of God in us that speaks through a line like: "I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all." Or perhaps one like: "It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." Perhaps there's something closer to the heart of God in preferring pain over apathy. Perhaps it's one of the ways that we look like Him.

I'm beginning to understand something like cutting oneself because it's the only thing that provides an escape from perpetual numbness as perhaps a perversion of this aspect of God's image in us.

We are made in the image of a God of passion and action. And there's something truer to who we are in His image about embracing the aching than refusing to feel.

God weeps. He rages. He loves. He redeems. But He never sits enthroned in apathy refusing to be moved by the love or scorn of His beloved.

There is something nigh unholy about the beloved, being made in His image, in exact opposition, refusing to engage, sinking into a state of unnatural anesthetized emotional coma.

To bring it down to earth: there are many painful situations that have arisen in my life lately. And a part of me wants to escape to a hammock in Mexico. And I am not altogether decided against that inner whisper... But calling me back from the salty breeze that promises peace in the back of my mind is one silly lyric: "I'd rather hurt than feel nothing at all."

Though it seems an easy escape from the pain I cannot check out. I cannot cease to care. God in me is moved. God in me cares. And I cannot pretend to freeze impenetrable to the world around me. In the end, it's better to hurt than to cease to feel. I am, after all, my Father's daughter.

It's just Monopoly money...

"Replace fear of the coming winter with faith in the living God. After all, it's just monopoly money. It all goes back in the box."
- Max Lucado