Dear Little Girl…The Feeling Isn’t the Problem
Dear Little Girl,
What if the feeling isn’t the problem?
What if it’s the warning light?
I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to change what happens after the fact.
The outburst.
The resentment.
The withdrawal.
The gossip.
The need to fix.
The urge to control.
But lately, I’ve been wondering if I’ve been looking too far down the road.
Because behavior is usually the last link in a much longer chain.
Before the reaction, there was a feeling.
Before the words, something stirred.
Before the spiral, a little light came on somewhere on the dashboard.
And maybe the work isn’t simply learning how to behave better.
Maybe it’s learning how to notice sooner.
I saw something recently in the story of Cain that I had somehow missed all these years.
Cain brings an offering to God. Abel brings one too. Abel’s is received with favor, while Cain’s is not.
And Cain gets angry.
Really angry.
Scripture says his face was downcast.
But before Cain ever hurts his brother, God comes to him.
And God asks a question:
“Why are you angry? Why is your face downcast?” — Genesis 4:6
God notices the emotion before the action.
He doesn’t shame Cain for being angry.
He doesn’t tell him to get over it.
He doesn’t tell him that a faithful person shouldn’t feel that way.
He asks him to notice it.
Why are you angry?
And then God warns him:
“Sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must rule over it.” — Genesis 4:7
I’ve always focused on what Cain eventually did.
But this time, I noticed the moment before.
The warning.
The pause.
The space where Cain still had a choice.
And, Dear Little Girl, I think there is so much grace in that space.
Because maybe our emotions aren’t enemies.
Maybe they’re messengers.
Anger might be saying, Something feels unfair.
Fear might be saying, I don’t feel safe.
Jealousy might be whispering, I’m afraid there isn’t enough for me.
Resentment might be covering grief.
Defensiveness might be protecting shame.
Rejection might be poking at an old question about our worth.
The feeling isn't necessarily telling us the truth about the situation.
But it may be telling us that something inside us needs our attention.
And that's where I am learning to pause.
Not fix it.
Not defend it.
Not immediately text someone.
Not call a friend so she can tell me I’m right.
Not build an entire case in my head.
Just pause.
What am I actually feeling?
Why am I feeling it?
And what does this feeling want me to do?
Because feelings can be incredibly persuasive.
They can make urgency feel like wisdom.
They can make retaliation feel like justice.
They can make gossip feel like processing.
They can make control feel like protection.
They can make running away feel like peace.
But a feeling doesn’t have to become an instruction.
James tells us to be “quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.” — James 1:19
Slow.
There it is again.
Space.
Room for a breath.
Room for awareness.
Room for God.
Maybe that is one of the places freedom actually lives—in those few sacred moments between what I feel and what I choose to do next.
I’m beginning to think God isn’t standing there waiting for me to fail.
He’s meeting me at the warning light.
Amy, what’s happening here?
Why did that hurt so much?
What are you afraid of?
What story are you telling yourself?
Before you respond, can we sit here together for a minute?
That changes everything.
Because I don't have to be ashamed that the light came on.
I just need to be willing to look under the hood.
There have been plenty of lights blinking on my dashboard lately.
Fear.
Resentment.
Scarcity.
Rejection.
The need to control an outcome.
And I'm learning that none of those feelings get to define me.
But they can teach me.
They can show me where something still hurts.
They can expose an old pattern.
They can reveal where I’m trying to find safety somewhere other than God.
And when I notice them early enough, I get a choice.
I can follow the old road.
Or I can pause.
Breathe.
Pull up a chair.
The original prayer chair that planted my seeds….
And ask God:
What is this trying to tell me?
Maybe spiritual maturity isn't never feeling angry.
Maybe it isn't never feeling jealous, scared, rejected, irritated or insecure.
Maybe maturity is recognizing the feeling before it grabs the steering wheel.
Dear Little Girl,
your emotions are messengers, not masters.
Listen to them.
Get curious about them.
Bring them into the light.
Bring them to God.
But you don't have to hand them the keys.
There is still time to choose.
There is still room to respond differently.
There is still grace at the door.
A Question to Journal On
What warning light has been showing up on your emotional dashboard lately?
Before you try to make it disappear, ask yourself:
What might this feeling be trying to tell me—and what would it look like to bring it to God before I act on it?
A Prayer for the Pause
Dear God,
Thank You for meeting me before the reaction.
Help me notice what is stirring inside me before my feelings become actions I regret.
Teach me not to shame my emotions or be ruled by them, but to bring them honestly to You.
When anger rises, help me pause.
When fear starts telling stories, help me pause.
When rejection hurts, help me pause.
When resentment begins building its case, help me pause.
Give me wisdom in that sacred space between feeling and action.
Help me remember that I still have a choice.
And when the warning lights come on, remind me that You are not waiting for me to fail.
You are already there, inviting me to sit with You.
Amen.
With hope and healing,
Worthy
