A friend died this morning. I wonder where he is flying. I am shocked, saddened, and a little envious. When I die, my enduring anticipation is that I will be released from the confines of my own brokenness. I know I am not currently as God intended -- but by grace I slowly grow to become what he made me to be, and do what he calls me to do. When grief enters in, I am caught in the tension of desiring to retreat into myself versus needing to talk about it. Here I am talking about it. It strikes me that we are made to communicate ... its a part of normative health. Retreat into one’s self is destructive. Already we are slightly diseased in our souls, and when we build barriers and walls around our inner self we are simply creating a environment for the disease to deepen. Talking is like taking a knife to a festering boil, we lance it to let the disease out, and so allow healing to begin.
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Why?
Probably the best therapy is to express yourself. Why do you think psychiatrists make you lie on the couch and talk, while all they do is murmur "hmmm", "uhuh", or "go on"? Archives
May 2017
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