That鈥檚 what we鈥檙e diving into on the blog this month: how to open ourselves to the nurture and care that is required to sustain our calling as fully embodied people committed to the movement of hope and healing. It might be worth pausing on that last sentence. What comes to mind when you hear the word nurture? Somewhere along the way, many of us have internalized an assumption that the need to be nurtured is something to be outgrown, something no longer experienced by people who are competent, mature, and capable of effecting change in the world.

We believe, though, that the deep need for nurture is a central part of the human experience, and it is essential to the art of growing in wisdom, empathy, and clarity of calling. As we lead, care for others, and respond to the needs around us, the reservoirs we draw from will run dry if we are not open to receiving care from God, ourselves, and each other鈥攗ltimately leaving us burned out in our work and cynical about the possibility of meaningful change.

We hope you will join us in this conversation as we hear from alumni, students, faculty, and staff about how their particular identities and stories shape their work in the world, and how they receive nurture and care along the way. May we remain curious about whatever resistance might emerge, about those places in us that might feel shame about our need for nurture, and may we continue learning to open ourselves鈥攊ndividually and collectively鈥攖o the care that fuels our formation and sparks creative, courageous work in the world.

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I haven鈥檛 been sleeping well lately. I can鈥檛 seem to make it through the night without some strange dream clawing at my psyche.

I climb out of bed and try to settle myself again with a book or an hour of scrolling through Instagram. I know that it doesn鈥檛 really help, but it comforts me.

Sometimes I can hear my daughter shifting in her room, a sleepy momma slipping from beneath her door. She can sense me, my little werewolf, I joke to myself. Her favorite book to pull from my shelf is . I haven鈥檛 read it yet; I bought it years ago because someone said it reminded them of me. Maybe she and the Universe are conspiring to get me to pick it up.

Maybe I will; I do a lot of things because she wills me to somehow.

From day to day, parenting is painfully mundane. It鈥檚 a lot of routine and repetition; the same games, the same books, the same lessons. My iPhone has become my constant companion, ready to entertain me at any moment my daughter might happen to look away. Despite reading multiple articles on the subject, I recently decided to give up checking my phone while I鈥檓 with her based on her behavior鈥攏ot outbursts or tantrums, only her own growing desire to whittle away her hours in front of a screen.

It鈥檚 been a difficult sacrifice to make, putting my phone away while I鈥檓 with her, and I have yet to make it through a day successfully. My social media accounts do more than keep my boredom at bay; they help me to feel involved in the outside world, keep me from getting too lonely. They also overwhelm me, distracting me with their content long after I鈥檝e put my phone down. And, I鈥檝e realized, they keep me from facing the darkest parts of myself.

I don鈥檛 have very nice things to say, or rather think. I didn鈥檛 grow up in a home dripping with affection鈥攆or anyone, really. My family taught me how to protect and defend myself; my step-father would quiz me daily about what I noticed on my walk home from elementary school.

You always, always have to be aware of your surroundings,聽his voice echoes when I find myself getting too familiar with my environment.

My mother isn鈥檛 an unkind woman, but one for whom things, people, are rarely good or good enough. Her nature comes easily to me鈥攎y inheritance, maybe.

When I鈥檓 online, it鈥檚 easy for me to direct my hatred at unseen others: strangers who add antagonizing comments to the posts of friends, old high school classmates gleefully announcing their Go Fund Me donations toward Trump鈥檚 wall. I project my doubts onto other artists who are just starting out, and worst of all, I pour out my bitterness over the artists who are succeeding and who I deem lesser than me. I count these amongst my ugliest thoughts.

Without my digital scapegoats, my vitriol has the clearest path to its true target: me. The first thought that popped into my head the day that I started my screen-free experiment was, Boy, you鈥檙e a shitty mom. It was closely followed by its sibling thoughts about my appearance, my work ethic, my abilities, the invalidity of my dreams. There was no real reason for these thoughts, nothing in the moment to motivate them to come. They don鈥檛 really need a reason, they live with me, are a part of me. They鈥檝e just been waiting for a quiet moment to speak.

鈥淲ithout my digital scapegoats, my vitriol has the clearest path to its true target: me.鈥�

If my time at 天美视频 taught me anything, it鈥檚 that all of us feel this way. Some more than others, but all of us still. It鈥檚 part of what it means to be human in this world. We all have shortcomings, doubts, and fears, and they are ready to contend with us. Some have merit and some don鈥檛, but we will never be able to distinguish what鈥檚 true from what isn鈥檛 unless we face the parts of ourselves that bring us the most shame. There鈥檚 no healing, no transformation without reflection. It can be painful and we may not be ready at any given point; it could take years, a lifetime even. But we have to be aware that our self-contempt paints an incomplete picture of who we are.

I pride myself on being a woman with a keen sense of clarity about who I am, but I鈥檝e lived most of my life unable to see my own goodness. I鈥檝e needed to hear about it from other people. Even then, I found a way to disseminate their words, convincing myself that their view of me was obscured. But it鈥檚 time to take off my own blinders, to seek out the goodness others have been telling me is there on my own.

Those negative thoughts are less intimidating when I鈥檓 able to see myself more clearly. When partnered with a more benevolent self-perspective, they can lead me into compassion and empathy, instead of shame and self-hatred.

This too is part of what it means to be human in this world: the amalgamation of the darkness and the light inside of us. They don鈥檛 have to be at war with one another, they can live symbiotically.

I used to think that living a good life meant following this rigid moral code that God had prescribed for us, one in which there was no place for darkness鈥攐ften considered 鈥渋mpurity鈥� or 鈥渟in.鈥� But I鈥檝e come to believe that living a good life means becoming more human, softer, more given to making mistakes. More able to learn from them, too.

This paradigm shift is right on time. I can never teach my little werewolf how to be fully human until I learn how to be one myself.

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It鈥檚 worth remembering, though, that therapists are not the only ones who help foster healing in others by pursuing dynamic, life-giving relationships. Most pastors and chaplains could tell you that, for them, the categories of active listening, attunement, and transformative relationships make up a more-than-full-time job. It is the ministry of presence鈥攁 deep calling to walk with congregants, clients, and neighbors as they wrestle with the risk of connection and live more fully into their own relational identities. Our alumni practicing in their local contexts are a reminder of the vital importance of connection in ministry and the helping professions, and their work and stories are a constant inspiration to us.

(And just in case you hear 鈥渞elationship鈥� and think first and foremost about the particular relationship of marriage, here鈥檚 Emily McBroom鈥檚 [MDiv, 鈥�17] crucial, incisive presentation on )

鈥淢ost pastors and chaplains could tell you that, for them, the categories of active listening, attunement, and transformative relationships make up a more-than-full-time job.鈥�

In Martha Wood鈥檚 (Master of Divinity, 鈥�15) Integrative Project, we鈥檙e reminded that our earliest relationships shape how we develop our identity and style of relating鈥攊ncluding how we relate to God. If our childhood attachments are marked by experiences of abandonment or misattunement, our conceptions of God may feel very much the same. Martha argues, then, that in the work of Spiritual Direction, helping others foster a deeper connection to the divine is intimately connected to the need for healing in their human connections.

As they pursue relational healing that fosters divine connection, spiritual directors, chaplains, and pastors walk with others as they come face-to-face with their experiences of trauma. For her Integrative Project, Jessica Dexter (MA in Theology & Culture, 鈥�18) explored Jessica, who now works as an Associate Chaplain with the Mental Health Chaplaincy, argues that our biggest questions about God should not be written away with easy answers that deny the gravity of trauma. Instead, by wrestling in the midst of community with the pain of trauma and its very real, ongoing effects, we may begin to arrive at a new understanding of the divine.

In this work, it is crucial that ministers and leaders鈥攏ot just therapists鈥攔emember that spiritual health cannot be separated from physical and mental health. To forget that may amount to a form of spiritual neglect, argues Molly Erickson (MATC, 鈥�17) in her powerful Integrative Project about Molly鈥檚 thesis is that 鈥淪ome of the ways the Church responds to people with anxiety and depression can be classified as a form of spiritual abuse or neglect,鈥� ultimately exacerbating symptoms, furthering alienation, and damaging the connection to God. Pastors and leaders who hope to build healthy, generative community, then, must be willing to acknowledge and support the challenges and needs related to mental health. And this requires鈥攁s we鈥檝e said before and we鈥檒l say again and again鈥攐ffering a space in which the work of healing can unfold through the context of relationships.

While time spent in class is a crucial part of learning to offer that space, we know that transformative learning must also occur outside of the classroom, through embodied, day-to-day work with others. Just as the work of healing is intimately connected to human connection, so is the work of learning; it is through relationship that theory becomes practice. That鈥檚 why all of our students being trained for pastoral care, chaplaincy, and ministry leadership are required to participate in immersive field experience outside of our building.

In this video, Dr. Ron Ruthruff shares his dream that our city and world might be a laboratory of learning for students, a place where they are invited and trained to ask beautiful questions about themselves, their communities, and the Church. 鈥淧ractically speaking, that happens by getting students out of the classroom,鈥� says Ron. 鈥淭hat鈥檚 my dream: that we鈥檙e in the world, and that we鈥檙e in real places doing real work.鈥�

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鈥淭here is no one I am more inclined to speak with and learn from about marriage than Steve. His wisdom is astute, and his integrity is as true as his fly line is straight,鈥� writes Dr. Dan Allender, Professor of Counseling Psychology, in the book鈥檚 foreword. 鈥淚f I were to invite someone to read just one marriage book, including my own, I would recommend this volume.鈥�

Today we鈥檙e honored to share a conversation with Steve about what led him to write Reconnect, why disconnection in marriage is so common and so difficult, and his hopes for people who read the book. You can also listen to on The Allender Center Podcast, about the book and the fundamental components of recovering and sustaining connection where it has been lost.

Can you give us an overview of what Reconnect is all about?

This book really is about helping couples become more aware of the various issues that contribute to intermittent and sustained disconnection in their marriage. Reconnect was written to help couples develop new understanding, insight, and strategies to promote deeper connection and healing interaction in their marriage.

Why do you think disconnection is such a common experience in marriage?

Well, I think we each have different desires, hopes, wants, and needs鈥攕o of course this will create and lead to moments of disconnection in marriage. What鈥檚 missing for most marriages, though, is the process of reconnection when disconnection occurs. For most couples, disconnection is a familiar experience that occurs when we feel hurt. And, most often it occurs in the midst of conflict. When we feel hurt, we often withdraw, shut down, isolate ourselves, distract ourselves as a way to cope. Hurt essentially is the foundation of disconnection. And a failure to understand one another in the midst of the hurt is what perpetuates disconnection. Yet when we become aware of the hurt and move toward our spouse鈥檚 hurt without blame or judgement, understanding is cultivated鈥攚hich is the foundation for reconnection.

鈥淲hen we feel hurt, we often withdraw, shut down, isolate ourselves, distract ourselves as a way to cope. Hurt essentially is the foundation of disconnection.鈥�

How did Reconnect grow out of your experience鈥攁s a therapist, a professor, and a husband?

Over the years in my professional work with couples, I was noticing recurrent and common themes and patterns between couples鈥攁nd the central theme was a sense of feeling disconnected. And often, what was missing was how to recover, and essentially pursue reconnection. Most couples, including my marriage with Lisa, are often unaware of the dynamics that disrupt connection and unaware of the destructive effects of hurt, shame, and blame. Couples that are experiencing a sense of disconnection crave to experience reconnection but are often needing a roadmap of sorts to be able to return to one another in a way that facilitates reconnection.

What was the writing process like for you?

The hardest part of the writing process was simply taking the time to write. Writing is a terrifying experience. Writing this book has been one of the most vulnerable and transparent endeavors I have ever pursued. Mainly because I have written stories and reflections from my marriage with Lisa to help illustrate some of the common patterns within disconnection. Writing leaves us open to judgement and evaluation from readers, which is why it took me so long to finally write!

What kept you inspired as you worked through these ideas?

My good friend, colleague, and fly-fishing partner Dan Allender was such an influential and inspiring advocate to write. His persistent and consistent encouragement to put into writing my thoughts, ideas, experiences was absolutely essential in being able to finally write this book. And of course, my wife Lisa. She is such a wise, thoughtful, and insightful woman and has really helped shape and craft much of the understanding and clarity within the book.

What are your hopes for people who read this?

My hope is that couples will learn how to stay connected, especially in moments of conflict; that they will discover how shame is such a force in disconnection; that intimacy will be cultivated through their play with one another; and that they will discover insights, tools, and techniques that will help couples navigate the hopeful path toward reconnection.

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Grounded Theory Analysis allows the researcher to search for a central explanatory concept or core category which is intended to capture the essence of what has been studied. In this study, I could not escape an overwhelming concept that kept pushing to be named. I was reluctant to name it, because it is too human, and I was afraid it would sound too 鈥渟oft鈥� for research. But it refused to not be recognized. And it is this鈥攚hat lies at the heart of a psychoanalytic treatment is love.

It came up in three ways. First, interviewees stated it directly by simply saying, 鈥淚 love my patients.鈥� Second, I found myself 鈥渓oving鈥� my interviewees as I was 鈥渃aught up鈥� in how they expressed themselves with so much joy, care, and compassion for their patients. I found myself 鈥渢ouched鈥� by the intimacy that evolved in their work as they risked themselves emotionally and intellectually, wholeheartedly engaging the analytic process. Third, love came to be defined by the very kind of relationship analysts provide鈥攁 relationship that requires of themselves honesty and risk-taking, a deep immersion in the affective lives of the other, and a devotion to scrutinize non-defensively their own selves in an attempt to understand, feel, and grasp the internal and interpersonal world of another. The analyst is willing to resist the urge for self-protection, surrender certainty, and engage in the inevitable conflicts, misrecognitions, and ruptures, and to stay in the conflict until it is worked through. The analyst鈥檚 relentless 鈥渆thic of honesty鈥濃�攁 Freudian technique that Freud believed an essential requirement in the patient鈥攊s now valued by these relational analysts as a requirement also in themselves. It is this honesty that births an unusual authenticity rarely found in human relations, and the primary factor that engenders change and transformation in our patients鈥� lives.

As I vetted this study, I discovered that some analysts were uncomfortable with the word 鈥渓ove鈥� and some even stated that they didn鈥檛 love all of their patients, giving me pause to reconsider love as a core category. So how did it get included? First, it was in the data. Second, just as this research study was developed from a student pushing for clearer practices, it was also a student who encouraged me to include it. Students were aware of the research I was conducting, and many even participated in the literature review for the study. I told them about this thing called love, and that it was controversial. There was a student who had been in the class for two semesters and who had said little to nothing the entire time. I sensed his engagement, but was often curious about his silence. Now, at the end of the semester, having said our goodbyes, he approached me and quite intensely said: 鈥淒on鈥檛 ever shy away from love…You have brought it, you have lived it, I have bought it, and I believe it…And now, as a new practitioner, I have seen it. Don鈥檛 ever give up on love.鈥�

It should be made clear that we don鈥檛 鈥渄ecide鈥� to love a patient, and in fact, if love is in the air, we know that negative affective states are not far behind (and perhaps vice versa). However, isn鈥檛 the very tangle of the therapeutic relationship, where we experience the intensity of the full range of emotions, including love and hate, not some form of love?¹

He was handsome, confident, articulate, immediately fluid and charming in our interaction, eyeing me to see if I could be of any use to him. Socially sophisticated and gentle in his approach, I was quickly introduced to the intricacies of his life-drama and felt as though I was being auditioned to see if I would become critic or admirer. I sensed he wanted help, but he did not want to be revealed. He wanted to be seen, but not if it meant I might perceive him in any negative way. I was invited in to assist him in his difficulties in living as long as I did not disrupt the fragile persona that he had developed over his 40-plus years. We approached each other tentatively鈥攕keptics, if you will, wondering if we would find authenticity in the other or if we would part left with yet another false encounter. Yet we both stayed. Over time skepticism was replaced with trust and our lives enriched by the other.

Therapy is a profound relational experience that conjures up a myriad of emotion. I can easily report that I love my patients, and I respect their courage and willingness to enter the difficult work of therapy, but often I am caught off guard in that these are not merely words out of a textbook about empathy or unconditional positive regard, but are deeply held feelings that are alive within me.

鈥淭hese are not merely words out of a textbook about empathy or unconditional positive regard, but are deeply held feelings that are alive within me.鈥�

Such was the case for me with this man when I sensed something well up inside me and discovered that I felt a deep and abiding love for him. This love was not simply 鈥減rofessional,鈥� but was the kind of love that I feel for those I know best: love as a sensation not a concept. I felt excited, desirous, hopeful, emotional, and eager. I felt awe, the feeling of love that says, 鈥渢his is good.鈥�

I found myself disturbed by this love. Yet I also wanted to revel in it.

I was disturbed because I wondered if, in loving, had I lost my objectivity? Had I lost my way with him in such a way that I could no longer assist him in understanding himself? I was left asking, 鈥淐an I love him and be objective? And can I not love him and be objective?鈥�

As I sat with these feelings of love, I must admit I found myself less clinical in this session, less judgmental of his lapses of 鈥渕ental health,鈥� less energetic to go after his 鈥渦nderlying pathology.鈥� I felt a sense of celebration about the life that we had together so far. I was moved by how he was emerging from being a user and a manipulator of persons, to a lover of people. He was becoming a person who was discovering enough of himself that he was less driven to manipulate sex, women, and others to fulfill his needs. He was getting well. His work had been admirable. I was proud of him. There was cause for celebration.

I am acutely aware at moments like these that I may, in fact, be colluding with patients rather than interpreting underlying patterns of behavior. But this was not what I was experiencing at that moment. His earlier, more manipulative and hurtful way of relating had been tempered with genuine love. I felt his expression of love and, because I felt its genuineness, I too was moved to love.

I believe that my work with patients requires me to analyze and integrate the negative aspects of our relatedness. At the same time, I need to experience and celebrate with patients the lovingness that exists in each of us and often cannot find voice. The task before us, then, is how to connect with, surrender to, love, and be loved by our patients.

We all want to be loved, of course, but we often seek love in ways that it cannot be found. Almost always love is replaced with the need to be admired, taken care of, or desired鈥攁lmost anything except to be seen and known honestly for our real selves. And yet we 鈥渒now鈥� that when we are least defended, and when our more real self announces itself, then the Real (God) can be and is revealed. If we believe that God took human form in Christ Jesus, and that through the incarnation we are Christ to one another, then God鈥檚 own love comes concretely into our midst through our interpersonal interactions.

鈥淲e all want to be loved, of course, but we often seek love in ways that it cannot be found.鈥�

In this moment with my patient, I was reminded that shared knowing lies at the heart of fulfilled love; 鈥淔or now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to face; now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known鈥� (1 Cor. 13:12). On that day, love shone through. We were face-to-face and, although we did, and will, and do experience many other emotions, on that day love let me see not only the darkness but also the Light. And he saw it too. The news that I heard was the news of love, the news of a self that had long been neglected, that had not been able to give voice. I loved the loved, and the Beloved was with us. And we were both changed.²

¹Excerpted from , Edited by Roy E. Barsness for the Relational Perspectives Book Series. New York, NY: Routledge, 2018.

²Excerpted from 鈥淗onor, Wonder, Awe and Love: Sacred Moments in Relationship with Clients鈥� by Wayne T. Aoki, Roy Barsness, and Sam B. Leong, in Journal of Psychology and Christianity, 2001, Vol. 20, No. 1, 80-84.

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My surprised skin bumped into the chills of the new fall morning air. Inhaling deeply from its fresh coolness, I steadied my beating heart鈥檚 morning aches that were left over from last night鈥檚 racing internal discussion about a life and a death. A young 19-year-old woman hung suspended before my mind, with her long, coarse, strawberry blond hair pulled tightly into a knot behind her head. She鈥檚 an average height, not skin and bones, but there鈥檚 not much extra. Her eyes don鈥檛 mask the dark terror of the voices. This body holds at least 16 years of consuming trauma. Trauma has mapped itself well, topographically: old scars and new ones mark her dips in and out of reality. She paces nightly, in pj shorts and tank top, racing through her own internal dialogue with accusing voices, imprisoning her body in my plain sight.

The darkness of winter seems to have arrived too early. I am unprepared for its tepid response to my request for a bit more light. Average gray clouds hold in sadness, lust, anger, desire, joy, and anguish, engulfing Seattle in the inevitability of pending violence. It鈥檚 the edge of a knife. The sharp edge presses my skin to see if I am real. Wincing, I look at the complications of loving, caring, justice, and reality. Her body remains unmoved from my mind.

With limited shelters and limited resources available to commercially sexually exploited persons, the short list of helpful and innovative options grows shorter when mental illness haunts bodies infected by complex traumas. This young woman will make frequent visits to the hospital in hope for relief and, yet, return to her life with little protection from the realities of her invasive trauma. Mental health hospitals diagnose these persons with schizophrenia, borderline personality disorder, dissociative identity disorder, major depressive disorder, suicidal ideation, and more. The self-harming behaviors of cutting and the dreams of suicide are identified and categorized, and the diagnosis procured.

鈥淭he short list of helpful and innovative options grows shorter when mental illness haunts bodies infected by complex traumas.鈥�

Her shadow catches my eye. She walks down the street to wait for an Uber. The hospital door slams shut. She needs help and calls a friend.

The hospital releases her soul into a world of harsh expectations with little understanding of how in the hell she will come back from her severe mental illnesses.

I suppose, given the diagnosis, the hospital hopes that a plan of medication, therapy, and support will lead to healing. But without a buffer of time between the perpetual trauma and everyday life, hospitalizations, and a community that offers unconditional support, the commercially sexually exploited persons swim alone. They swim in dark, cold waters, gasping for air in systems unable to hold them compassionately.

Cutting edge therapeutic techniques are available to treat complex trauma; however, the skilled therapists are often financially bound to pay back student loans, bills, and to support a family. It鈥檚 difficult or nearly impossible to find social networks, churches, or systems that support the healing process of the lowest in society. And, most commercial sex workers are not white. They are Black, Asian, Pacific Islander, Latino/a, and bi-racial persons. When commercial sex workers walk into clinics, already stereotyped, reeking of addictions and death, only able to pay through state health insurance, there is not much hope to be held in those spaces.

These are the least of these. This is the trash run.

She sits, legs pulled to her chest, in the small shelter鈥檚 office, asking for grounding; she wants to get back to reality. Her phone buzzes just like mine, and her articulate analysis of her own internal reality questions my limited understanding. I mutter frustrations directed at a God who sees both of us. I resign to listen again to the accusing voices she narrates so clearly. We sit for less than 15 minutes because I am waiting on an Uber to take me home to a warm bed, husband, and four children. It is no consolation that I have spent precious hours away from my family to work here and get paid to chill with this woman and others. I don鈥檛 feel morally superior. I look at my watch one last time and excuse myself, telling her I am praying and hoping she stays safe. And with that, I remind myself that some would say I have completed my shift on 鈥淭he Trash Run.鈥�

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If you have been paying attention, you will notice that lately there has been a growing interest in certain circles about empathy. It has, thankfully, moved out of the privacy of the mental health consultation rooms and neuroscience research studies and into the classroom, the boardroom, and the bedroom. In fact, there really is no human interaction that will not be better because the participants are attuned to empathy and its place in the engagement.

Empathy, at its best, involves several elements. First, and how it is most broadly understood, it is the notion that one person (the listener, in this case) is able to be receptive to and feel the (usually painful) emotion of another person (the speaker), simultaneously holding that emotion in such a way so as to move thoughtfully to reduce the speaker鈥檚 suffering or distress. To experience empathy is, as Dan Siegel has put it, to feel felt. This is the first step toward moving out of painful emotion: to share it with an attuned, compassionate listener.

In real life, it amounts to the poetic cadences and language of a host of nonverbal and verbal attunements in which one person鈥檚 body language, facial expression, tone of voice, and eye contact (among other cues) align to match those of one who is afflicted and engage with his or her feeling not simply as an abstraction, but in an embodied moment in time and space. If you have had this experience, you know what I mean, and you won鈥檛 ever forget it.

Another feature of empathy is that it is a practice we necessarily must learn as human beings; we do not simply come by it naturally in the same way that we come by breathing. We learn about it by witnessing it being practiced by others or receiving it ourselves. Moreover, empathy moves us beyond compassion to kindness and human flourishing. In this sense, it is not just something that is intended to reduce pain, but also to increase hope, energizing us toward justice: we move to change our behavior on behalf of the plight of others who cannot change things themselves.

鈥淓mpathy moves us beyond compassion to kindness and human flourishing.鈥�

Hopefully, then, with empathy, we do not merely feel what someone else feels; we behave differently as a result. And most importantly, that behavior is more likely to be sustained on their behalf; it鈥檚 not just a one-off moment, but a lifetime moment. I am far more likely to make sustainable changes as a husband on behalf of my wife if I am truly in touch with what she is feeling than if I am doing what she asks mostly because I feel ashamed or guilty for not having done so before. As I like to tell patients, it is impossible for us to maintain sustainable behavioral change on behalf of another person in the absence of empathy. We can white-knuckle it for a certain period of time, but ultimately, unless we have made contact with the emotional state of another in such a way that our felt sense of mercy is mobilized, we will eventually regress to the mean of our previous behavioral norms.

All of this represents a posture in which one welcomes, says 鈥測es鈥� to the emotional state of another. So many of us have only experienced the dismissing 鈥淣o!鈥� to our afflicting emotional states, that when we encounter empathy it can feel like nothing short of a cold drink of water for a parched throat. In fact, one of our greatest problems, not least for people of faith, is our well-practiced manner of ignoring what we feel. And we鈥檙e so accomplished at this that eventually we not only are unaware of what we feel, by extension we become unable to sense what others feel. Naturally, it is virtually impossible, with this much neuroplastic reinforcement, to imagine a God who could actually feel what we feel. Don鈥檛 get me wrong. We might buy the theological idea that God can do that. But I am talking about the actual experience of feeling God feel what we feel.

The Hebrews wrote about this. They put down in words鈥攖o be kept and remembered, and to be re-experienced by those who followed鈥攖heir encounters with a God who they believed could take it. They threw everything they had at God. There is not one human emotional experience they refused to offer, be they experiences of joy or affliction. The Psalms are replete with the poetic rhythm and hum of a people who approached a God of empathy. A God who could welcome, receive, hold, and鈥攖hrough sheer force of God鈥檚 own perseverance in remaining with the deepest agonies of his people鈥攖ransform their hearts, their minds, their souls.

But many of us have never met this God. Our imaginations are paltry and afraid, atrophied as they are from so much time spent waiting for the microsecond-to-microsecond distraction of the shifting of the Internet as we peer soullessly into our screens. For our imaginations to be fired into life, we must first acquaint them with embodied experiences with other embodied people to which they can further appeal in memory and in reading the stories and poetry of the scriptures and the best literature; engage the depth and beauty of nature; receive all that art and music has to offer鈥攁nd so open the portals of our souls through which we may enter into the depths of our rawest terrain to join the God who has been awaiting us all along.

To whom do you run to be found? To be known? To offer your fragile, terrified self in order to have the cataracts of empathy cascade over you? If it鈥檚 not a real human, then it鈥檚 even less likely that it will be God, for we have a hard time imagining what our bone and blood do not know in real time and space. But the good news of the Gospel is that a real human has come to find each one of us, and is looking for us still. His gaze is waiting for you to see him seeing you. Hearing you. Feeling you. The One whose empathy can take it because he has already taken everything else.

At a time when our minds are becoming in many respects as disintegrated as ever, even as we swallow the illusion of greater connection through technology, as our social and political fabric feel like they are fraying apart at the seams, empathy that begins and ends with God鈥檚 good creation of our minds is just what we need.

God can hardly wait. He is already feeling how good you鈥檙e going to feel about it.

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