The Redemption Project - Sorrow

In a devotion this morning, I read about anger. The piece focused on the importance of feeling the emotion of anger, of not burying or avoiding it. And while I know the place the writer was coming from, it didn't seem to fit this present moment.

No one, anywhere, seems to have any issue expressing anger. The President is angry. Congress is angry. The news, left or right, is angry. The angry rants from others incites that same emotion in me. And while I'll admit some people are burying their emotion under loud voices, I'm not seeing anyone who's having an issue holding back on confessing and expressing anger.

There is a place for it, certainly. Injustice, greed, hatred all do and should give rise to feelings of anger, righteous anger, within us. These things are evidence of a world as it should not be. They are evidence of a realm where we put ourselves before one another. These things demand our voices, spurred by anger.

But something's not working. As noted, everyone's angry, top-down. And nothing's changing. In fact, rather than change for the good, rage continues to grow. Everyone appears to find yet another reason not to listen to one another. We come up with more and more extreme means to get our point across. Maybe it's time for something new.

In the Gospels, Jesus looks toward Jerusalem and gives voice to a lament. O Jerusalem, how I've longed, he says, to gather you as a mother gathers her young. His words are a reaction. But they are not spoken in anger. No, his words come from sorrow, a feeling of sadness tied to regret.

Regret can get a bad rap as it's often associated with a feeling tied to our own actions. But, at heart, it's a feeling born out of disappointment. So, sorrow is sadness that comes from disappointment. It is not the simple disappointment of missing out on something, but an emotion that follows moments when we see someone, including ourselves, choose hate over love, ignorance over wisdom.

It's not as empowering an emotion as anger, not initially. The white-hot fire of anger spurs us to speak, to yell, to act. Sorrow, however, is more akin to grief, which weakens us as it reminds us of how little control we have over the world.

But sorrow, like grief, does that amazing thing that anger cannot. While weakness seems the opposite of what we need, it opens that door to greater strength. It reminds us that changing, redeeming the world is not all on us, as individuals. And in remembering, we find a new sort of strength, one more powerful than anger's fire that does not consume us in its flame.

And from its darkness, light begins to dawn.