I believe a lot of Christians approach faith as an intellectual exercise. This may be particularly true of those in Reformed traditions where having correct theology and being able to defend our beliefs has been elevated to the capstone of life. Seminaries often feed into this perception and can lead pastors to intellectualize their preaching and teaching. Certainly we want pastors who can study and faithfully interpret Scripture, but correct theology is not necessarily life-transforming.
I know I have fallen into this trap quite often. Some of us have personality traits and family origins that are more prone to this. I value and pursue knowledge of many different subjects, Scripture included. At the same time, a lot of the Christian authors I’ve read have implied that emotions are meant to be ignored. “Just preach the truth to yourself and your emotions will fall into line.” There may be a kernel of truth to that, but I’ve rarely found it to be that clear cut. Part of the difficulty comes from not knowing what I’m feeling or why I feel that way to begin with. It’s hard to come up with relevant biblical truth if I don’t know what wounds or misconceptions need to be addressed. I’ve slowly learned that simply trying to suppress the troubling thoughts or feelings doesn’t really solve anything. They still live to fight another day. “Denying yourself” doesn’t mean ignoring what’s going on inside.
Jesus invited us, “Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matt. 11:28). But if we are trying to deny our burdens, we may not even realize that we are in need of rest. It was prophesied that Jesus would be “a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief… Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows” (Is. 53:3-4). He never said “What you are feeling is irrelevant, just trust Me,” but He did remind the disciples that suffering would not last forever.
Even the great apostle Paul wrote at different times, “I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart” (Rom. 9:1), and “we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself” (2 Cor. 1:8). He didn’t downplay his difficulties, and he didn’t ask the churches to pray that he wouldn’t feel this way. He was able to say instead, “we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us” (Rom. 5:3-5). He acknowledged the pain while still clinging to God in faith.
How then does this impact our approach to faith? First, we need to remember that we can bring our true selves to God. He doesn’t expect us to sanitize our thoughts and come with heads held high and smiles on our faces. He knows where we struggle even better than we know ourselves. We can drag our broken bodies and wounded hearts to Him at any and all times.
Second and very practically, rather than pursuing prayer and Bible reading as an academic exercise, sometimes (or perhaps often) we can take time to examine our hearts and see what things are currently causing anxiety, sorrow, anger, and uncertainty. Then we can go to God with whatever our greatest concerns are right now. I think we often miss out on experiencing God’s love and grace because we don’t actually take all our burdens to Him.
The practice of self-examination goes back many centuries, and is not some kind of new age mysticism. Scripture tells us to examine ourselves preceding communion (1 Cor. 11:28), but it’s certainly not limited to that time or to issues of sin. Jesus said, “But watch yourselves lest your hearts be weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and cares of this life” (Luke 21:34a emphasis added). This kind of self-awareness is not selfish, but living humbly and authentically before our Lord and Savior. Since Jesus welcomed the little children with their unhindered and vibrant emotions (Matt. 19:14), how could He not embrace all of us the same way?
“All that the Father gives Me will come to Me, and whoever comes to Me I will never cast out” (John 6:37).
“If anyone thirsts, let him come to Me and drink” (John 7:37).
(These thoughts have been greatly influenced by things I’ve heard and read recently from Steve Cuss, Alasdair Groves, and Chuck DeGroat.)
© 2025 Dawn Rutan. Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture are ESV and all images copyright free from pixabay.com. The opinions stated do not necessarily reflect the views of my church or employer.
