Embracing Your Emotions Might Be the Most Spiritual Thing You Do.
Your strong emotions reflect the divine nature of God and invite you into holiness. Yes, all of them.
I recently lost my emotional support animal.
That morning, I woke up earlier than I should have. It was before dawn and still dark outside. Exhausted, I felt myself drifting back to sleep, and then I felt the Spirit whisper. You should check on your dog.
He wasn’t on the porch where he should have been. As I flipped on the back-porch light, the yard flooded with dim light, and I saw him lying in the cold, wet grass at the bottom of the steps. My heart descended into my stomach.
I knew this day was coming.
Please don’t let him be gone already, I silently prayed as I slid the door open and said his name. No response. I forced myself to stay calm. Walked over to him. Looked for signs that he was still breathing. His eyes were glazed over. His head didn’t lift, his tail stayed still. His paws were cold. But, he was breathing.
I had to use a blanket to carry him into the house. He didn’t struggle. I’d lifted him many times before, but this time the weight of him was almost more than I could bear.
I had been preparing my heart for this for weeks. I had repeatedly told myself I would remain calm, stay strong for him, help his final moments be as peaceful as possible. And, I had expected more warning.
By the time the vet arrived, he was having seizures and his breathing was labored. While my mind wanted his pain to end as quickly as possible, my heart was screaming for things to slow down.
“You’re a good boy,” I said, gently petting him as she placed the IV.
I stroked his neck, his face, ran comforting hands down his shoulder and along his back, wanting him to feel me, wanting him to know how much I loved him, silent tears flowing down my face as I prayed Jesus would channel peace and love through my hands and not the screaming pain, the building pressure threatening to break out of my chest or crush my heart all at once.
And, then he was gone.
I took a slow, deliberate breath and let it out slowly. And, I heard myself whisper, “oh, I’m going to miss this fur.”
A few months later, I was making coffee in my kitchen for a friend. As I turned to fill her cup, I said, “I don’t think I realized it, but I think he was my emotional support animal.”
Without hesitation, she reassuringly exclaimed “of course, he was!”
My emotional need for him nor his certification for the role had ever been formalized. But, after losing him, I felt the loss run even deeper than I had consciously expected.
“It didn’t occur to me how often my first line of defense to cope with anxiety and emotions was walking the dog, hiking with the dog, petting the dog,” I said.
For a moment, I thought of all the long hikes in the woods we had taken together, all the time I spent lost in prayer, nearly oblivious to his presence. I had taken for granted the grounding sound of his collar jingling, the way his fur bounced in rhythm with his prancing paws. He was my constant companion, my silent witness.
My friend responded, “yes, sometimes you just needed to pet him and bury your face in his fur.”
That fur. Yes. Oh, how I miss that fur.
A wake of impactful events and emotions surrounded and followed the loss of my sweet puppy. I got sick with Covid, published a book, navigated difficult conversations with family members. In the wake of illness, loss, and stress I was processing grief and battling some anxiety. Through it all, I had also gained some weight. Overall, I was doing alright, but the list of things I needed to “work on” felt like it kept getting longer.
A few days ago, I decided to drive up into the mountains and hike one of my favorite trails. Hoping to decompress some en route, I started praying in my car. I was surprised at the weight of the emotions that began rising quickly to the surface. Complex and heavy, I felt a resistance rise up against my desire to untangle and work through them.
And, then I thought about how empty the back seat of my car was without my dog. How lonely I felt all of a sudden. I felt cords of grief wrap around the other emotions, braid through them and tighten.
And, then a stronger emotion I’d been holding in took advantage of my weakness and distraction, bursting into the forefront.
Anger.
Ugh. Where was this coming from? I don’t feel good. I should shut all this down. I should resist these emotions. I shouldn’t give in to anger. I should think about something else. Something happy.
I wish my dog was here. I wish I could pet him.
Oh, how I miss that fur.
I felt Jesus whisper into the voices in my head. “Your dog, he was a good blessing, wasn’t he?”
Yes, such a good blessing! I miss him so much. I wish he was still here.
A few minutes passed, as I allowed the tears. Blessed the grief. The comforting presence of God surrounded me, as I drove down the highway. With Jesus. My constant companion. My eternal witness. I felt the fists of grief around my heart loosen and release.
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“What else were you feeling?” Jesus prompted.
Renewed resistance. It’s complicated. It’s just a mess. I don’t even know where to start.
“Come on. Do the work. What are you feeling?”
I think I’m angry.
“Why are you angry?”
I felt frustration rising. I don’t even know?!
Then, I remembered a chart of emotions a friend had shared with me recently that stated anger is a reaction of protest to the threat of loss. That loss can be past, present, or future.
I had just been grieving a loss. But, this was different.
What is the loss, then? What is it I feel like I am losing? I asked myself.
As I dug deeper, I realized a primary source of my frustration and anger was over a recent conversation I had with a family member about a particular event that was harmful and painful for me. We had different experiences and memories. Assumptions were made. Details were questioned.
But, why does this matter? I know and understand that this is normal. Fifteen people can see the same event and give witness statements with vastly differing descriptions.
So, why is it bothering me? Where is the threat? How does this relate to loss?
Was the relationship threatened because we didn’t remember things the same way? Would it impact our ability to move forward toward restoration and healing, because we recalled things differently? Could this particular story ever be redeemed, when we couldn’t even agree on the details of what happened.
Then, Jesus asked, “why do the details matter?”
And, then I understood. There it was. The source of my anger. I had spent nearly half an hour going over and over the details. Pulling at all the emotions. Feeling invalidated, frustrated, discouraged, hopeless. Questioning my reality, my worth. Feeling small and defeated and flawed. But, it wasn’t about the details.
As I poured out my unfiltered feelings and thoughts, I dove deeper and deeper into humility and honesty with Jesus.
As I poured out my unfiltered feelings and thoughts, I dove deeper and deeper into humility and honesty with Jesus.
And found truth.
It wasn’t about the details.
What mattered was the impact. What mattered was that I had been hurt, harmed. The details didn’t make a difference. They should have been cursory, but they had taken the focus.
The loss was me. I didn’t matter. My feelings didn’t matter. The objects, the environment, the order of events, all the details were swirling and shifting, but I had been erased from the picture.
I had every reason to feel angry. Then. Now. And, later.
It was then that Jesus was able to speak comfort and truth back into my heart. He reminded me that even if I was wrong, it doesn’t make me less loveable. He reminded me that my feelings are real. They do matter. I matter. He reminded me that He is the redeemer of stories, and I am not. I don’t have to come to my own defense. He is in control, and He gets the final say. I am not alone.
And, He reminded me that redemption can take time. Healing can take time. Grief can take time. Losing weight can take time. Anything big and worth doing takes energy, effort, and time. It’s not easy, quick, or painless. And, that’s okay. He is with me for as long as it takes. His grace is enough to cover it all. And, He has me.
Growing up, I believed that strong emotions including fear, anger, jealousy, frustration, sadness, and depression were considered to be “bad” or sinful emotions.
We often talked about not being led by our feelings or letting our emotions “get the best of us.” Take every thought captive and make it obedient to Christ. Change your attitude. Quit whining. Persevere. Don’t be self-focused. Think about noble, worthy things. Be anxious about nothing. Just trust the Lord.
But, how do we really “take every thought captive?” You have to catch it first! What happens when you disregard and deny your emotions and feelings? They don’t dissipate. They follow you around. And, so does the devil, prowling behind you like a lion, seeking someone to devour.
We talk about “casting our cares” on the Lord. But, it takes time and effort, intention. It also means we have them. And, it isn’t a spectator sport.
When we hide our emotions from ourselves, God, and others, we deny the power of God to speak comfort and truth into our hearts.
Think about how different it might have been if Eve had gone to the Lord in the garden and told Him about the serpent, admitted her feelings and emotions. What if she had told God that she desired this wisdom she had heard of? What if she told Jesus that the serpent said He was lying, and she was skeptical? What if she asked Jesus, will eating this fruit really kill me? Imagine what the Lord’s response might have been and how it might have led her into comfort, confidence in her creator and His love, and invited her toward holiness.
What if Cain had gone to the Lord and talked to Him about his jealousy over his brother, if he had allowed the Lord of our shame to relieve his own?
What about Judas?
When we hide our emotions from ourselves, God, and others, we deny the power of God to speak comfort and truth into our hearts.
When we expose our emotions and feelings, bring them boldly out into the light and seek understanding from the Lord, wisdom from godly counsel, and comfort from others, we take a step toward holiness.
God created us to experience life, to experience strong emotions. God Himself says He is jealous for us. He wept. He gets angry. God is a highly sensitive emotional being! Our strong emotions allow us to participate in the divine nature of God. They are gifts given to us to prompt us to seek comfort, love, and truth.
Our strong emotions allow us to participate in the divine nature of God. They are gifts given to us to prompt us to seek comfort, love, and truth.
How do we get from worry to worship, from fear to faith, from anxiety to peace?
We follow the guides God gave us. We let our emotions spur us on in our journey toward hope and wholeness.
Jesus said, “Seek me and you will find me, when you search for me with your whole heart.”
More often than not, I have found Jesus and learned to know Him better, when I have had the courage and humility to bring all of my emotions into His presence, not just the ones I’m comfortable with or proud of.
As long as we have breath, we’re going to have strong emotions. As much as we might like to not be led by our emotions, that’s just not how the brain works. (click here to listen to a great podcast on why engaging your emotions and story is important.)
We are always going to be led by our emotions. It’s how we choose to honor, respond and act on them that determines whether they will lead us toward holiness and freedom or into sin and slavery.
We are always going to be led by our emotions. It’s how we choose to honor, respond and act on them that determines whether they will lead us toward holiness and freedom or into sin and slavery.
Jesus wept over the death of Lazarus, right before He raised Him from the dead. Before the flood, God says He was grieved He had made man, simultaneously knowing that we were predestined for redemption and adoption as sons. Jesus wept over Jerusalem. He sweat drops of blood while praying for us before His death and resurrection. In anguish, He asked the Father to take the cup from Him, even though He knew the joy set before Him on the other side of the cross.
And, He expressed and shared these emotions openly with us.
If the omnipotent Lord of the Universe experiences strong emotion, surely we who are created in His own image can join Him.
Have the courage and humility to bring your emotions to Jesus and one another. Let Jesus comfort, teach, speak truth into, and bless your heart. Let Him teach you to sing with your whole story and your whole heart and with great emotion.
Jeremiah 17:9 says the heart is deceitful above all things. Proverbs 4:23 says the heart is the wellspring of life. Which is it?
Both.
Jesus is teaching me that no emotion is beyond the reach of His love. When you get to the heart of how you feel, you will realize how beautiful and holy all of your emotions are. And, how they are pointing you toward love. Begging you to seek grace and freedom. To live.
When you get to the heart of how you feel, you will realize how beautiful and holy all of your emotions are. And, how they are pointing you toward love. Begging you to seek grace and freedom. To live.
So, friend. How are you feeling right now?
I dare you to honor it. Follow the emotion. See where it leads you. Invite Jesus and the family of God to speak truth and love and encouragement into the far reaches of your heart. For only then can you step into redemption, move toward holiness.
Jesus wants to transform your broken heart into a wellspring of life.
Can you feel it?
