On Emotions

I've noticed that people of liturgical traditions seem to be wary of emotions in worship in general.  The other night at our big worship celebration of two churches joining in ministry, a woman of a Pentecostal tradition made a remark about our service: she found it quite ordered but she still felt the Holy Spirit's presence in a powerful and emotional way.

The worry in liturgical traditions with such emotionalism is that it is anti-rationalistic. But perhaps the better way to see the situation isn't to see charismatic worship as anti-rational but as a critique of excessive rationalism.

The heart has ways of knowing that the head knows nothing about.

For many, going to church can be a heady experience, only occasionally a heart experience.  It is so easy for our faith to be cerebral, rationalistic, intellectual, and propositional. But when we encounter spirituality at deeper levels, we can realize how stunted and limited rationalism can be with regard to growth and change.

If you have ever truly encountered someone more mature in faith than yourself, you know that they know something about the faith that you know nothing about. It is not a knowing with the head or intellect, it is a knowing in the heart. 

Modern psychology has pointed out to us that our emotions often function as pre-cognitive filters in how we interpret and ascribe meaning to the world. Emotions, in many ways, are primary. Cognition is often secondary, given the task of making sense of the emotional data. You have to explain to yourself, after the fact, why you feel the way you do. You have to "make sense" of your feelings.

Yet, emotions make our world. And if emotions make our world then attending to the emotions is a critical, perhaps even the central task of Christian discipleship. Discipleship is more a matter of training our emotions than of changing our minds. And, as often as we are in want to interpret some emotions as "weak" or some as "strong" those labels are fairly arbitrary.  Emotions are what they are.

Consequently, as a result of worshipping in many different communities, I've come to focus more and more on orthopathy (right affection) than upon orthodoxy (right belief), and even upon orthopraxy (right practice). 

For me, as a person and pastor, this has been an important shift. As we know, many so called contemporary or "cool" Christians have shifted focus toward right practice over right belief; however, this can be problematic.

First, when we think of "practices" we tend to think of social justice, as we should. But we don't, as a rule, think of praying, fasting, and worshiping in this category.

This is why, in my estimation, many Christians, despite their focus on social justice, still struggle with being kind, gentle, forgiving and loving human beings. If we aren't attending to the affections in our pursuit of social justice then we are prone to becoming harsh, angry and judgmental. Or just burnt out. Joy rather than righteous indignation has to be what carries us forward.

This lack of attention to the practices of doxological gratitude is also why I think many Christians chronically struggle with spiritual dryness, listlessness and cynicism. In short, when we disconnect our affections/emotions from the church and the practice of doxological gratitude, we often fail to attend to the heart. 

How might we surrender to this in new and deeper ways this Lent? What barriers and postures are we maintaining that cover up our heart and emotional life? Where might God be trying to expose light into dark places so that real healing and liberation can take place?

A prayer from Walter Brueggemann:

The intrusion of pain,

the eruption of anger,

the embrace of rage,

and then bewilderment and wonderment and awe.

Our lives in faith are situated among the poets:

The poet talks about,

swords to plowshares,

spears to pruning hooks,

and unlearning war.

But answered by a shadow poet who bids us,

plowshares to swords,

pruning hooks to spears,

be not a weakling! (Joel 3:10)

The poems conflict us, as we are conflicted,

sensing and knowing better,

Knowing better, but yielding.

Do not deliver us from the clashing poems

that are your word to us.

But give us courage and freedom and faith...O Prince of Peace.

Amen.