It is not a topic that I want to read about. Nor do I wish to write about it. There are certain feelings I try to avoid, but unfortunately, some of those feelings don’t make a similar effort to avoid me. Instead, they will at times seek me out as if they want to rest in my company.
I don’t mind inviting happiness, joy, or excitement over. I’ve even grown to develop a comfortable relationship with fear. I see past it, to the transformation beyond.
But sadness, anger, and hopelessness are feelings I have yet to grow comfortable with. Though I logically know they have lessons to teach me, I’d still rather ignore them. When they take up residence in close proximity to me, I can’t seem to think straight. Like the child who can’t stand to be left alone in the dark, I forget that the sun will sooon rise
So I’ve been thinking about the message of Easter. How Easter represents the pinnacle of hope. The resurrection. Life overcoming death. I have to assume that Christ’s friends and followers undoubtedly wrestled with hopelessness on that Saturday after His crucifixion. Their friend had been slain. Their leader had been defeated. Their hopes had been pierced.
But in the midst of their hopeless sunset, a daybreak was brewing. Without their knowing it, a boulder of depression was being rolled in the darkness. Light would sooon shine. Hope would soon be revealed.
So I’m trying to resolve that if unwelcome feelings drift upon me without invitation, I have an anchor to cast. If the sunset of sadness tries to overwhelm me, I can count on the Son to soon rise. If the twilight of anger hems me in, there is comfort in knowing that dawn approaches. If the spectre of hopelessness is shrouded in dusk, I can stay afloat in the assurance that He has daybreak formed already.