Can You Feel It?

Cool, collected, calm, robotic, never showing emotion—the perfect Christian, right? 

WRONG.

In Christian culture (or perhaps just human nature), we have embedded the notion that it is not okay to feel any emotion for the sake of not being controlled by them or being weak. And instead of processing our emotions with God, and letting Him speak truth into our lives, we become fake people. 

Through the name and abuse of “faith,” we wear a plastered smile that covers a crumbling interior. It’s a facade that says, “everything is okay.”

For me, my fake-self was birthed on a cold January morning in 2001. Whether it was cold temperature-wise, I have no idea. But the events of that day left an icy sting I still feel today.

I remember sitting on the couch, watching TV as my mom was on the phone in her room. I wasn’t really paying attention to her, but overheard, “I don’t know how to tell him.” I thought nothing of it.

Coming out of her room, my mom, with red and puffy eyes, said she had something to tell me. She knelt down on her knees in front of me as I sat on the couch. 

Choking back tears, she told me my dad passed away. He had become sick and died in his sleep the night before.

At ten years old, my childhood ended.

My mom and I dealt with the loss in different ways. She succumbed to depression and became sick. I kept all feelings locked away and didn’t talk about my dad’s death. 

I can remember crying at night in my bed, and literally choking down the tears and forcing myself to think about anything else. And it worked—or so I thought.

We fell into both sides of the ditch. My mom felt the loss to the fullest, and let if engulf her. I created a false self that said, “it doesn’t really matter, it’s not that big of a deal—that’s life.”

You can’t fix a problem that doesn’t exist. And because I chose not to deal with it—not to feel the loss—God had no way of healing me. 

And now, 17 years later, I am just beginning to open up that wound and let God go to work.

My fake self has been so good, that there are some people reading this, who have known me for years, but have no idea my dad died.

But what the church—and the world needs—are people who are real.

Ask someone at church how they’re doing, and I doubt you’d get any answer other than “good” or “I am blessed in Jesus’ name.” 

In reality it might be, “I’m struggling with not feeling good enough,” “I just got in a fight with my husband,” or maybe “I feel behind in life, like I’m stuck and not going anywhere.”

I think some of this has to do with human nature—it can be hard to be vulnerable. Or maybe, like me, you’re an internal processor and keep everything shoved inside.

And then, some of it has to do with church culture—the image and belief that a Christian can’t feel any emotion and must be this stoic, wise sage at all times.

But guess what? That’s not the picture we get from the Bible. 

Jesus was quite distraught in the garden before being crucified. He also wept when his friend Lazarus died. David seems like a basket-case of emotions in the Psalms. We were created with emotions and meant to feel them.

Now, before you yell at me, there is a fine line between feeling and dealing with your emotions and being ruled by your emotions. We shouldn’t be controlled by those emotions, but we are meant to acknowledge them, feel them, and then process those emotions with God and godly friends.

When we go to prayer, we need to be honest. Sometimes we’re mad or upset with God, yet we pray, “all praise be to the Holy One seated above every throne...” This doesn’t fool God, who knows what’s in your heart. So why not be honest? Why not deal with the problem? “God, what’s going on!?!? It feels as if you’ve abandoned me and I’m all alone…”

Look at King David in Psalm 142, and you’ll see a man who bleeds emotion from the quill of his pen.

“I cry out loudly to God, loudly I plead with God for mercy. I spill out all my complaints before him, and spell out my troubles in detail: as I sink in despair, my spirit ebbing away, you know how I’m feeling, know the danger I’m in, the traps hidden in my path. Look right, look left—there’s not a soul who cares what happens! I’m up against it, with no exit—bereft, left alone.”

But David, don’t confess those words over your life! Don’t you know the power of your words?!?

David, and I, know all too well the danger of not freaking out, or being emotional in front of God. It is only by David acknowledging the truth of his circumstances and what is going on in his heart that God can speak into David’s heart an even higher truth:

“David, why are you sinking in despair? Don’t you remember that I have always been with you? ‘There is not a soul who cares what happens?’ Rubbish. I care deeply about what happens to you. Who do you think helped you overcome the lion, the bear, or Goliath. Who do you think caused Saul’s spear to miss your head? Who chose you and set you aside to become king? Who forgave you of your darkest sins? I have always—and will always—be at your side. I will always care for you, protect you, and love you.”

What issue have you not dealt with? As I open up my wound and deal with it, I challenge you to do likewise. I’m not excited at all to do this. But, I have refused to feel and deal with the pain of my Dad’s death long enough. The call on my life, and on yours is too important for us to stay broken. Jesus became broken, so I could be made whole, and I intend to take Him up on his promise. Will you do the same?

Below is an awesome video on dealing with and handling emotions:

About the Author

Hi, my name is Justin Dalme and this is my blog, "Anchor Leg." I started this blog to encourage people in their walk with God, have fun, and share what God is constantly teaching me. Based out of Boise, Idaho, I am a proud graduate of Boise State (go Broncos!) and I work as a journalist, photographer, and videographer. I love living in my beautiful state, with snow capped mountains, crystal-clear lakes, gaping canyon gorges and more to explore. I encourage you to take a look around, read a few posts, and join me on this adventure of life.