Posted on: 9th October 2025

An important part of our discipleship is self-control as a fruit of the Spirit. In psychology we talk about self-regulation, especially of emotions. One way we regulate difficult emotions is to avoid them experientially. We do that by keeping very busy. A favourite verse in scripture is Romans 14:17 which the lovely Taizé song paraphrases as ‘The Kingdom of God is justice and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit.’ 

One of my favourite books is Otter Country by Miriam Darlington, where the author spends a year travelling the UK looking for wild otters. I wrote a review of her book for The Baptist Times, and the author was so pleased she sent me a gift in the post. When I opened it, it was a little container of otter poo. I have used that gift ever since as an example of experiential avoidance (as we avoid difficult emotions). In my talks I ask people if they would like to sniff the jar of otter poo and many people say no, experientially avoiding it as they assume it will smell horrible. In fact, it has a very pleasant smell, very much like Jasmine tea.

What is interesting is that we don’t just avoid difficult feelings like sadness, anxiety, fear, anger, we also avoid positive emotions like joy and happiness. This is because we once felt happiness, and it was taken away from us, and we can’t quite believe that if we allow ourselves to feel happy it won’t be taken away again. And so, we live on the edge of happiness. Perhaps as children we were told ‘not to get our hopes up’ or ‘nothing good ever lasts,’ and so we dampen down positive feelings rather than allowing ourselves to feel them.

I realised that being a child at boarding school had taught me this pattern of dampening down. I remember we would fly to Kenya for the holidays from the UK. The first night in my bedroom in Kenya would be a strange one. I would wake up on that first morning of the holidays, as light streamed through the curtains with a sinking heart imagining I was still at school. Suddenly I would realise this was a different sort of light and I would be filled with a sense of elation – I was home.

The first night at boarding school reversed the process. I would awake imagining I was home, with a light heart, and then realise with a sinking feeling that I was back at school. And so, I learnt to live on the edge of happiness.

Now I allow myself to savour feelings of joy and happiness rather than fearing them, not pushing them away, or clinging to them but appreciating them fully. Perhaps that’s an insight that emerges for you as you read this. My prayer for you and for me is the last part of that beautiful Taizé song, slightly paraphrased, ‘Come Lord, and open in us the gates of joy.’