You know that feeling when you eat too much pasta? Or crusty garlic bread? Especially the cheesy kind... so, so good as each gooey bite goes down but then you're left with the inevitable carbohydrate hangover; heavy, sleepy, and a tiny bit sick... I can't help but think of the very hungry caterpillar who had eaten too much and then had a stomachache. I think it's this icky feeling that makes those paleo crossfit people feel so pretentious about their dietary choices. I could get on board with that if not for my waffle affinity. I digress.

Anyway, that heavy stomach feeling? How does that translate when you have too much input of information? I feel emotionally hungover. It's my tendency to input input input when anything major happens in the world... if there's a terrorist attack or natural disaster, I obsessively check CNN, NPR, BBC (and any other conglomeration of letters representing news) for the latest updates... sad, pacing, praying, fretting. It's not that I necessarily feel any fear for myself or my family so much as a heaviness, a weariness. A reminder, once again, that things are not as they should be. A reminder, once again, that our only hope is in Christ returning to set all things right again.

I don't mean to be uber spiritual. I just really want to empty my brain from the heavy, carby input... to process in a way that isn't alienating, demeaning, contentious. It's in these times that I wonder, what would a nonreligious person do (WWANPD)? How does the nontheist handle this emotional hangover? Is their hope built on nothing less than the next political leader? Or the next G7 summit? Maybe there's an avoidance? Hiding? Abdication of personal responsibility? None of these a hope that is living. All made of dust. All here today, gone tomorrow.

I am grateful to serve a God that is in control. I am grateful that, at the end of the day, when my brain hurts from earthquakes, mass shootings, bombings, sex trafficking, I can rest in his sovereignty and his justice. I can honestly close my eyes and remember that things are not spinning out of control, like they feel, but rather falling into place. I can do my best to live peaceably with all in my small world and still pray for the world at large. I can be sorrowful yet still rejoice. I can kiss my kids, wipe their noses, change their diapers and cook dinner, knowing that Jesus is still on the throne and that what He has for me in this moment is for His glory and my good.

I just need to be reminded sometimes.


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