When We Roar

Amanda Macadam

(Note: if you missed the introduction to this series, be sure to read it first.)

As a naturally shy and quiet child I grew into womanhood with the “traditional” belief that female spirituality was rooted in respect and quietness.

But what happens when this posture becomes dishonest and there are no words to express the buildup of strong or negative emotions? What happens when we do not allow ourselves to bring these feelings forward in honest expression before God?

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Last November I was reading from Holy Listening: The Art of Spiritual Direction by Rev. Margaret Guenther. Guenther finishes her book with a chapter about particular patterns that she has noticed in her meetings with Christian women:

“Tentativeness (a kind of clenched-teeth sweet rage) may also result from a mistaken understanding of anger, since women are socialized to believe that anger itself if avoidable and wrong, and that its expression is sinful.”

I read those words in dismay. I had just returned from the funeral of my best friends son, the precious, Dino-loving, three year old, who had lost his fight with leukemia. I couldn’t say the word “cancer” without spitting it and wanting to hit something. I was aware that my anger sat boiling under lava encrusted layers of self restraint, and digging into it felt very risky. On one hand, I wrestled with my pride, who whispered persuasively that people would think I was just another embittered woman if I used angry words. On the other hand, how could I not be honest? I was at a loss for how to use my voice.

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Sprinkled throughout the Old and New Testament are beautiful passages that draw comparison to a woman calling out in labor. In Isaiah, the poetry reads,

“I have kept silent for a long time,

I have kept still and restrained myself.

Now like a woman in labor I will groan,

I will both gasp and pant.” – Is. 42:14

I’ve had the privilege to be in the room with women as they labored. Often, when a woman suddenly changed her vocalization to a deeper tone the attending midwife would look at us knowingly, as if to say, “Something is happening.”

So it is in this passage from Isaiah. After describing the covenant between God and the people of Israel, and singing a song of praise, God says “I will not hold back.” Then the passage transitions into a series of descriptions; God is a woman in labor calling out in full voice, God is tired of the blindness of the people who are trusting in idols and perpetrating injustice upon the earth, God is pouring out their anger as if in the heat of battle- fighting for the people of Israel to be redeemed. The lifting up of God’s voice is connected to the action that follows. Something is happening.

Somehow, when I was growing up, I completely missed the idea that expressing my anger could be like this, that my anger could be transformative.

Maybe this is because the American church doesn’t typically talk about God as being angry in a constructive way (only in a way that is used to inspire fear). Or, perhaps it is because we never talk about God as a woman in labor.

But, the point is that I missed it, and when I saw injustice and brokenness I would allow myself to feel sadness but not anger. It felt simpler to be a woman who was crying than to be a woman who was yelling.

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Whelp, 15 months ago I had my own unmedicated birth at a birth center in Cambridge, Massachusetts. I was in a large tub, pushing, and our midwife brought my hand down to feel my sons head as it was crowning. Suddenly, my voice changed. An unearthly roar came out of my chest as my whole body bore down and it echoed through the tiled walls of the room. Within three contractions, Elias was born into my hands. It was wet and messy and transformative. It was the first moment that I understood that I would do anything for my child, even pushing through the breaking force inside of my own body.

Women do not all have the same experiences, but- as we grow- most of us come to the point where we realize that we cannot hold back our voice. The question I keep asking myself is, will I let myself express my feelings truly and honestly before God, or will I keep “shushing” my soul and telling her to be quiet?

I think you know the answer to that question.

Sisters- may you know yourselves as deeply loved, and may you know that our mothering God is laboring over you, and may you not be afraid of anger that leads you to push towards the redemption of this world, and may you lift up your voice even as you reach your hands forward to receive life.

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Amanda is a New England Newbie, transplant from the weird land of Orange County, and is learning to think less, love more, and receive grace.

Song Choice: Hey Girl, by Lady Gaga and Florence Welch

Why: I chose this song  mostly because it features Florence from Florence and the Machine, no but really it’s because I love the idea- let’s lift each other up!

Check out Amanda’s song choice and more on the Stronger playlist on Spotify.