I am in a season of grieving, grieving for letting go of what I hoped for a long time...grieving for the hope I once had and had lost.
When there are disappointments in life, when things I hoped for don't turn out as I had hoped, or even worse, when it turns in the opposite direction, it’s painful. Those feelings are difficult to bear...so I learned to bury them and numb them. There are so many “helpful” things for this in this world that encourage humans to be detached from our feelings: media, busy life, addiction, etc…Even the words of “comfort” we give each other often focus on “look at the bright side” and “get out of it” soon.
I often treat my "difficult feelings" as dangerous beasts I must run away from to survive.
It is hard to address those "beasts" because I fear they will crush me.
...Would they?
What if they are not "dangerous beasts" but vulnerable creatures deeply wounded and crying out for help? What if they need gentle and loving care to be healed?
What if allowing myself to feel is the beginning of healing?
I am relearning how to allow myself to feel to be healed.
In my learning journey of sitting with my own pain and sitting with the pain of others, I find hope. And this hope begins with 위로.
위로 (we-ro) is a Korean word that can be translated in English as “consolation,” an act of comforting those in trouble.
When I allow myself to feel and turn to God in prayer with those feelings, the first image of 위로 I have is a space of safety.
This 위로 is gentle. It provides a safe space so I can be who I am.
This kind of 위로 comforts me because it does not rush me to escape from where I am but makes a space for me to feel what I need to feel.
Then, I thought of Jesus, who would understand the very feelings of humans and the pain; the pain of being betrayed, hated, misunderstood and disappointed.
So, I had this second image of 위로, which is compassion:
The 위로 of Jesus understands.
The 위로 of Jesus desires to mend us and heal us.
I can sit with my own pain and others because I have a hope, the hope of restoration, the hope of healing, the hope of transformation.
And it all begins with 위로 that offers a safe space and compassion.