As part of a women’s event I recently attended, I was asked an ice-breaker question has lingered in my mind, likely longer than was intended. The question was about a go-to comfort food, which was difficult for me to answer, as there really isn’t any that came to mind. My tendency is to interpret questions literally, and food does not provide comfort to me. Rephrasing it to something along the lines of “what is the food of choice if you’re going to eat your feelings?” makes it slightly more answerable (unfortunately for the group I was with, and the awkwardness that followed my disavowal of comfort foods, that rephrasing didn’t occur to me till later), but that’s what has remained with me for nearly two weeks at this point. Why would we eat our feelings? Why is that a situation that so many humans, at least in the US, recognize and resonate with? And if we’re not going to eat the uncomfortable feelings, how are they to be managed?
The quick answer is it resonates with so many because it works, but realistically, it works only temporarily. What happens after that? When the hot beverage, chips, brownies, or ice cream is gone, are the uncomfortable feelings still held at bay? Does the respite last for more than a little while? Frankly, I don’t think it can. We’ve done nothing to actually resolve the disquiet; we’ve only avoided it for a few moments. Even if, as some of my colleagues tell me is most effective, one turns to alcohol for relief from the rough edges of our experiences in a broken world, at some point the alcohol leaves the system and can’t possibly still be “helpful”. Assuming that we see the foolishness in constant eating or perpetual drunkenness, what are we to do?
This isn’t just a theoretical exercise. Even today, I’ve been plagued by distress approaching despair over a particular situation, a reoccurring concern to which there is no human solution. I’ve texted a friend to add it to the list of topics for future in-depth conversations, but that doesn’t solve it here and now. What do we do that can’t be avoided, numbed, or quieted for more than a few minutes?
The words of an old hymn come to mind: “I must tell Jesus all of my trials; I cannot bear these burdens alone; In my distress He kindly will help me; He ever loves and cares for His own. I must tell Jesus! I must tell Jesus! I cannot bear my burdens alone; I must tell Jesus! I must tell Jesus! Jesus can help me, Jesus alone. I must tell Jesus all of my troubles; He is a kind, compassionate Friend…..Tempted and tried I need a great Savior, One who can help my burdens to bear; I must tell Jesus, I must tell Jesus; He all my cares and sorrows will share…”
It sounds simple because it is, though it is not simplistic. This solution doesn’t dismiss the complexities of life here on earth, or minimize the sorrow, suffering, sadness, confusion, and depression that so often stalk our steps. It does acknowledge that there is only One Friend such as Jesus, who knows intimately all the darkness that our lives contain and has come through that without sinning in word, thought, or deed. He knows, and like a weaned child with its mother, we can quiet and comfort our souls in Him alone.
So what do we do with these uncomfortable feelings? We take them to Jesus, not because He takes them away, but because at His feet we are heard and understood and known. He doesn’t look away from the hard parts of our experiences, the pieces that threaten to shatter and undo us. He walks through the valley of deep darkness alongside us, sustaining us and seeing us through to the other side. We take our distress and anguish to Him because He does ever love and care for His own, and where else will we find words of eternal life? We go to Him because there is no other true comfort and rest for our souls.