And the devil who had deceived them was thrown into the lake of fire and sulfur, where the beast and the false prophet were, and they will be tormented day and night for ever and ever.
I don’t know anything about a lake of fire and sulfur. I don’t know anything about the false prophet or the devil-beast. I personally don’t imagine this to be a literal story about what’s going to happen in the end-times. There are definitely those who do, and I can’t claim to know. But the language is vivid, and frightening. And it says something about the writer, and the times when Revelation was written.
Yesterday at church, I heard a great phrase, used originally in a training seminar for people working with Alzheimer’s. Behind every behavior is a feeling. Behind every feeling is a need. The preacher was suggesting it’s also a great way to think about and understand things from Scripture. Behind every written story, there’s a feeling, and behind every feeling is a need. The writer of Revelation was in a persecuted sect of Jesus-followers. I can absolutely imagine talking about the future times, or the end of times in a way that described a battle with good and evil, sheep and green horses, and the devil-beast and a fiery lake into which evil is finally vanquished. Behind the fantastical writing, I can imagine, is a need for retribution, for a hope of goodness prevailing in memorable ways. The greater the current dramatic turmoil, the greater the need for a future, dramatic victory. Again, I don’t know if there is a fiery lake in the future, or if the devil makes an entrance in this world as a beast. But regardless, I sense the underlying urgency from the story teller.
This little phrase, behind every behavior is a feeling, and behind every feeling is a need, struck a chord with me. It offers a way to step back and explore the underlying needs, that surface as behaviors. Even my loved one, who cannot explain their actions, has feelings behind the behaviors. They may not be logical or linear to me, but they are absolutely real and clear to them.
We experienced some drama over the weekend, that resulted in our loved one calling the police, and us calling mental health crisis workers. As if that wasn’t enough activity, our loved one used social media to record the event live, so in addition to 2 police, 2 mental health workers, and the three of us present, there were another 1000 people watching and commenting on our crisis, as it was happening. Some of the social media voyeurs noted that they had searched social media and found me and my writing, closing an uncomfortable circuit, and offered my insights – albeit out of context, to the running commentary.
I mention all of this because at the time it didn’t make a lot of sense. There were many behaviors, in rapid fire, that I couldn’t understand. The easiest to understand were the actions and comments of the social media onlookers, who sought an evening of entertainment. But even in my house, it was hard to follow what was going on. The behaviors made little sense, both from my husband and loved one. Part of that is because I’m frequently stuck in my head, and logic fails at times like that.
But in hindsight, if I’d been able to step back and see the feelings behind the actions, or the needs behind the feelings, the evening might have gone much smoother.
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