Are Feelings & Emotions The Same?
What happens when we deny them or are defined by them?
For a long time, I believed there were only two ways to handle emotions: deny them or be defined by them.
Some churches taught me that emotions were unreliable, something to be suppressed in favor of truth.
Culture, on the other hand, told me that emotions were everything, that following my feelings was the highest form of authenticity.
So which is it?
Should we deny our emotions in the name of faith?
Or should we embrace them fully as the guiding force of our lives?
The Difference Between Feelings and Emotions
Before we go further, let’s define something many of us have never been taught:
Feelings and emotions are not the same thing.
Emotions are instinctive, physiological responses. They are immediate and subconscious—your brain reacting to a situation before you’ve even thought about it. They are physical. Our bodies react before our minds do (e.g., heart rate increases, stomach tightens, face flushes). They are subconscious. You don’t have to decide to feel an emotion—it just happens.
Feelings are how you interpret your emotions. They are shaped by your personal experiences, beliefs, and environment. Feelings take longer to develop. Unlike emotions, which happen immediately, feelings evolve as we process what happened. They are influenced by context. Two people can have the same emotion but develop very different feelings based on their personal history. They can be changed. While emotions are automatic, feelings can be adjusted through perspective, reflection, and reframing.
For example:
If someone yells at you, your body may respond with anger (emotion).
But whether you feel insulted, defensive, or indifferent depends on your past experiences and personal interpretation.
If a friend cancels plans last minute, your body may respond with disappointment (emotion).
But whether you feel rejected, understanding, or relieved depends on your past experiences and personal interpretation.
Why does this matter? Because our emotions are not within our control, but our response to them is.
This is why God never condemns emotions—only what we do with them.
Jesus felt emotions deeply—anger, grief, compassion—but He always responded from a place of wisdom, not reaction.
Scripture acknowledges every emotion—from joy to rage, from peace to despair—but it also teaches how to process them through truth.
Which brings us to the real issue: We don’t know how to feel emotions well.
Emotions Are Not Moral Categories
Emotions themselves are not inherently good or bad, righteous or sinful (moral categories). But for many of us, church culture taught us differently.
"Don’t trust your feelings."
"Your heart is deceitful." (Jeremiah 17:9)
"Walk by faith, not by sight." (2 Corinthians 5:7)
And whether it was said outright or just implied, the message was clear: “Negative” emotions are dangerous. Suppress them. Ignore them. Override them with faith.
Faith, we were told, means:
✔️ Always being confident.
✔️ Always being joyful.
✔️ Never doubting, never fearing, never feeling uncertain.
And so, we learned to push away anything that didn’t fit.
Fear? That means you’re not trusting God enough.
Sadness? That means you don’t have the joy of the Lord.
Anger? That means you need to check your heart.
But emotions are not moral categories—they are indicators of what is happening inside of us.
Anger tells us something is wrong.
Sadness tells us something has been lost.
Frustration tells us something is not the way that we want it to be.
Instead of allowing the emotions to be an indicator to dig deeper into what we are feeling and understanding ourselves better, we often suppress them in order to appear faith-filled and strong. But suppressed emotions don’t disappear - it gets stored.
Unprocessed anger doesn’t vanish—it turns into bitterness.
Unprocessed sadness doesn’t go away—it numbs you to joy.
Unprocessed fear doesn’t dissolve—it morphs into control.
A “faith-filled” life, we were told, should look like perfect peace, unshakable trust, and unwavering positivity.
But if that is what walking by faith truly means, then why did Jesus—who had the greatest faith—feel so much?
He wept when Lazarus died (John 11:35).
He felt sorrow and anguish before the cross (Luke 22:44).
He flipped tables in anger when the temple was turned into a marketplace (John 2:15-16).
He was moved with compassion when He saw people suffering (Matthew 9:36).
Jesus embraced humanity fully—and to be human is to have emotions.
If we only ever felt confidence and joy, that would mean:
We would never grieve loss. Which means we wouldn’t truly love, because love and grief are intertwined.
We would never feel compassion. Which means we wouldn’t care when others are hurting.
We would never feel anger at injustice. Which means we wouldn’t stand up for what is right.
We would never feel fear. Which means we wouldn’t know when to be cautious or protect what matters.
In other words, we would be disconnected, detached, and emotionally absent.
That’s not spiritual maturity—that’s emotional avoidance wrapped in religious language.
When we ignore our emotions in the name of faith, we don’t actually grow in faith—we just become disconnected from ourselves. We learn to numb, to override, to silence anything that feels too messy, too inconvenient, too unholy. But faith isn’t about perfection—it’s about presence. And when we stop being present with our own emotions, we stop being present with God.
Instead of bringing our real, raw selves to Him—the doubt, the fear, the grief, the anger—we bring a polished, performative version. We come to Him with pre-rehearsed prayers, curated emotions, and a well-maintained image of what a “strong believer” should look like. But the thing is,
God doesn’t meet us where we pretend to be.
He meets us where we actually are.
And this is why some people deconstruct—not because they’ve stopped believing in God, but because, over time, the weight of suppressed emotions becomes too heavy to bear. The cracks start to show. The grief we were told to move past lingers. The questions we were told not to ask grow louder. The anxiety we spiritualized as “just a lack of faith” becomes unbearable.
Eventually, it erupts. And when it does, we don’t know what to do with it.
We’re caught between two identities—the person we’ve been told to be and the person we actually are. And for many, that internal dissonance feels impossible to hold.
So they walk away—not because they don’t love Jesus, but because they were never given permission to wrestle. They were never told that faith could coexist with grief and that questions don’t disqualify them.
What if spiritual maturity wasn’t about having fewer feelings
but about knowing how to process them in truth and love?
What if the breaking point wasn’t meant to be an exit—but an invitation?
Because God never asked us to bring a polished version of ourselves to Him. He asked us to bring everything—the tears, the doubts, the fear, the mess—so that He can meet us in it, not despite it.
“I Feel, Therefore I Am”
If suppressing emotions disconnects us from ourselves, then allowing emotions to control us completely disconnects us from truth.
Instead of emotions being indicators, they become dictators—governing our decisions, shaping our identity, and distorting our understanding of reality.
And in a generation where we were either taught to suppress emotions or idolized being in control of them, we now hold this kind of emotional expression like a prized possession—as if finally expressing everything we feel, in real-time, without filter or reflection, is the ultimate sign of authenticity and freedom.
Because after years of being told to ignore, override, or spiritualize our emotions, it feels revolutionary to finally let them lead.
We were told not to be sad. Now, we let ourselves sit in grief without rushing to “find joy.”
We were told not to question. Now, we give ourselves permission to wrestle with our doubts.
We were told to “trust God” when we were anxious. Now, we name our anxiety for what it is and lean into it instead of shoving it down.
We were told to stop being angry. Now, we allow ourselves to feel it, to express it, to let it fuel change.
And at first, it feels like breaking free from a prison we didn’t know we were locked in. It feels liberating.
Because in many ways, it is.
But Eventually… Something Feels Off
At some point, we start noticing something unsettling.
At first, embracing every emotion feels like breaking chains—but over time, it starts feeling like drifting without an anchor.
We sit in our sadness, letting it wash over us, but find ourselves stuck
We ask hard questions and we let every question linger but become a cynic of any truth
We let our anger burn, fueling much of what we do, even if it leads to destruction
This kind of emotional absolutism prioritizes feelings over facts and comfort over growth. Suddenly, instead of saying, “I feel this way,” we say, “This is who I am.”
This is where emotions stop being healthy messengers and start becoming false identities.
When feelings take over, we don’t just believe we are what we feel—we believe our feelings are the most reliable source of truth.
If I feel rejected → Then I must not be worthy of love.
If I feel distant from God → Then He must not be near.
If I feel angry → Then my anger must be justified.
But feelings are not facts—they are responses. They are shaped by:
✔️ Past experiences
✔️ Trauma
✔️ Fears and insecurities
✔️ Learned behavior
Which means your emotions may be based on old wounds rather than current reality.
Fear can tell you to run when you need to stay.
(Maybe you're afraid of abandonment because of past experiences, but in reality, this situation is safe.)Anger can convince you to cut people off when you need to work through conflict.
(Maybe your anger is justified, but the relationship isn’t beyond repair.)Loneliness can make you settle for relationships that are harmful.
(Maybe you feel alone, but rushing into an unhealthy relationship isn’t the solution.)Happiness can cause you to chase temporary highs instead of lasting joy.
(Maybe something feels good in the moment, but is it leading you toward the life you want?)
It turns out, giving emotions free rein doesn’t always lead to freedom.
And instead of feeling more whole, we start feeling less stable.
Because while denying emotions disconnects us from ourselves, being ruled by them disconnects us from truth.
And that’s when the real work begins—the work of not just expressing emotions, but understanding them.
From Expression to Discernment
For many of us, the journey of faith and emotions has swung like a pendulum.
We suppressed.
Then we expressed.
Both has left us wanting more.
Our emotions are not burdens to overcome or pools to drown in. God, in His wisdom, created us as emotional beings. Every emotion we experience has a purpose—it is meant to guide, not define, us.
Anger is a signal that something isn’t right, inviting us to seek justice or help right a wrong.
Fear is a protector, making us pause with caution and and assess before moving forward.
Grief is a teacher, reminding us of what we love and what we’ve lost.
Frustration is a motivator, pushing us to find solutions, make changes, or set boundaries.
Loneliness is an invitation, pointing us toward deeper connection—with ourselves, with others, and with God.
Guilt is a guide, nudging us to take responsibility, make amends, and grow in integrity.
Shame is a signal, asking us to examine whether we are believing lies about our worth.
Longing is a reminder, revealing the deeper desires placed in us for something greater.
Disappointment is a redirection, showing us what expectations need to shift or what is no longer serving us.
Each of these emotions carries a message—not to control us, but to point us toward deeper wisdom, healing, and purpose.
What Discernment Looks Like
Discernment isn’t about dismissing emotions—it’s about learning how to hold them with care, curiosity, and wisdom alongside God.
It’s about slowing down enough to ask the deeper questions:
What is this emotion trying to tell me?
Is this feeling helping me move forward or keeping me stuck?
How do I hold space for this without letting it control me?
What is God revealing to me through this emotion?
If there’s one thing we can learn from the stories of Joseph, Job, Peter, and the Israelites (who all have seasons of suffering), it’s this:
Emotional growth and faith are not always instant.
Healing is not linear.
And there is no one-size-fits-all formula.
So wherever you are in this process—whether you feel lost, whether you feel like you’re making progress, or whether you feel like you’re still wrestling—If God is with you in it, you are exactly where you need to be.