I woke up angry. Hurt, disappointed and angry. I also have a deadline. I am supposed to be writing about the love of God in Christ alone. So ironic. How do I connect to the love of God with the emotion of anger coursing through my veins? Today is a very human kind of day where no one filled the dishwasher or offered to help with the groceries. Someone borrowed the car and brought it home empty. The garbage cans are still sitting at the end of the driveway, and it was garbage day four days ago. Someone took the last bit of coffee cream, leaving me with skim milk.

I could share this with someone. I could weave this tale with a friend or post something in an eerily passive way on social media. I would see those likes and comments of validation, knowing that others share or at least understand my emotions.

Here's the thing. None of that would transform my hurt, soften my disappointment or soothe my anger. For a few moments, I would feel great. I'm sure one of my besties would come alongside me and say, "heck ya, that wasn't very respectful to you!" Or, "how dare they do that!! You sure do have a right to be mad! I would be mad too!" My chin would jut out, my shoulders would drop down, and I would stand taller, feeling vindicated and understood.

... for about ten minutes. And then, suppose there is no resolution to the initial hurt? Suppose I have to continue interacting with all of the "someones" who are a part of my irritation? I could so easily pick up my hurt and disappointment the moment I am in their presence.

Sharing this pain for the world to hear will not clear the fog away to connect with the love of God, and it will not heal my heart. When I am wrestling internally, I know I need the perspective of someone who both loves me and loves me enough to tell me the truth. My end goal is to have authentic, meaningful, loving connections with my people. To see and be seen and to be accepted and supported.

I have learned not to sit in emotional dark places alone. The darkness is where unresolved hurt festers. Instead, I go to my quiet place where Jesus waits with me.

This is a loose transcript of a typical conversation:

Me: I am pretty mad
Jesus: I see that
Me: Ok, more than mad ... I am angry
Jesus: I know
Me: I want them to know how hurt I am
Jesus: Tell me ... I know them well ... they might not be able to hold your hurt, but I can.
Me: I think it would feel better if they knew how they hurt me.
Jesus: Because you want them to hurt too?
Me: (busted) Maybe ... I am just so frustrated that my bones ache. I always have to be the first to make amends ... so, not this time. I am going to hold out.
Jesus: OK, I will wait with you.

(Pausing in His presence)

How does a conversation like this continue for you? Does the voice of Jesus in your head condemn you for feeling this way? Does He quote some Bible verse about "not letting the sun go down on your anger" or forgiving your brother and "turning the other cheek?" Does Jesus sit and stare at you with judgment in His eyes?

This is the real, rusty and relevant, rubber hitting the road of relationships. Relationships are messy and often reactive. Maybe you and your spouse always get along. Maybe your children are always respectable, obedient, and lovely -- both privately and publicly. Maybe you don't ever say something out loud you later regret? Maybe your family is free of awkward moments of discomfort and conflict? Maybe it is just us? Maybe my ordinary, messy life is not typical?

I know that isn't true. I know I am not alone because I work with people whose lives are messy. Every day people are constantly falling into pits that they dug for themselves, and then they experience heartache and disappointment. I sit across from them while they tell me their stories of pain. I witness them telling of trauma histories that have turned my stomach in knots. Then, through empathy, I start to feel anger and deep sadness for the victims. I feel their pain. I know the ache of a human heart that lives with hurt, disappointment, and loss. I also know it is not enough to undo our aloneness or to feel understood -- we need to experience transformation. Healing and wholeness can so often feel just out of reach.

We need to know the power of Christ in us. I can help others feel through the waves of their emotion and allow them to linger longer in the peace that comes when the waves cease. But Jesus is our Peace. He is the calm in our storms. He is so passionate about pursuing us to bring heaven to earth, so we experience the transformation of our hearts and minds. When I allow the power of His resurrection to course through my veins, something shifts inside me.

His divine power has given us everything we need for a godly life through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. (2 Peter 1:3)

His power in us is the life-giving grace that floods our burdened hearts with peace, grace, and long-suffering. His power living in us allows our hurting hearts to lay down the pain and take up hope in restoration and repair. We have everything we need in Him.

He reached down from on high and took hold of me; he drew me out of deep waters. He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me. They confronted me on the day of my disaster, but the LORD was my support. He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me. (Psalm 18:16-19)

Lean into this truth. Jesus offers us the gift of His presence for eternity. What is the end goal of Jesus? The restoration of all things and to have us near Him forever. He saves. He rescues us from our messy selves and places us in a safe space away from the darkness of our sin and pain.

Our hope is in Christ Alone.

Tracey Dahl, M.A. is a writer and Registered Clinical Counsellor (RCC) in Langley, BC (Canada). She is married to Ryan Dahl (Founder of PraiseCharts) and the mother of four grown children. In Christ Alone was written by Keith Getty and Stuart Townend.