When Emotion Becomes Sin: How spiritual language reframes warranted anger as moral failure and protects institutional control.
by Jennifer Glen
“If it weren’t for our emotions, reason wouldn’t exist at all.” - Jonah Lehrer
Have you ever heard the exhortation declared in your faith community that goes something to the effect of “you can be angry, but you cannot sin in your anger”? This sentiment is roughly connected to the first part of Ephesians 4:26, where the author says, “be angry, and do not sin”. More times than I can count, I have heard this rebuke proudly proclaimed to shut down a negative expression of emotion from individuals who have become aware of behavior that would reasonably warrant such a reaction. I could take the time to research the contextual implications of this simple, yet dogmatic phrase held for a first-century audience in Ephesus. We could dissect the chapter to narrow down the specific situations in which this verse might apply to us today. I’m not planning to do that here. And I would propose that such care is not taken either when this verse is used to silence others for communicating anger.
What is actually being implied here? Because let’s be clear, verbally expressing anger, however it may look, in response to information that warrants it is not, by itself, an act of sin. The implication must be something else entirely. The implication is that communicating anger is itself morally questionable, and by extension, that feeling anger must be sinful. And if the implication is not coming from the text, then more than likely it’s coming from a deliberate purpose to shame.
We already know that shame is a powerful ally within environments that breed spiritual abuse.
Using Scripture to suppress or shame another’s emotional responses is a tactic often used in faith communities. Especially when the victim begins to recognize patterns that give them pause, and when they notice the words coming from the stage are in alarming contradiction to the actions going on off the stage.
When We See This Pattern in Church Systems
Reframing the emotion of anger is not simply an isolated misuse of Scripture; it goes deeper. Often, this concept of suppressing anger using the specific verse in Ephesians 4 is coupled with teachings around rejecting bitterness and “guarding our hearts” from the “root of offense”. Moreover, if the anger happens to be directed toward a harmful leader, then it most certainly comes on the heels of a feisty “submitting to authority” sermon. When this happens within spiritually abusive systems, it becomes less of biblical interpretation and more about behavior management and curated optics. In this case, it would be wise to ask the following questions: “Who benefits from the minimization of warranted anger? Whose voice is being stifled in this scenario?”
The focus quickly shifts away from why the anger exists and lands squarely on how it was expressed. Once that happens, the original issue of the harm that provoked the anger in the first place quietly slips out of view. This perspective shift is not accidental, and it is not neutral. It works almost exclusively in favor of the church leaders or systems that have caused harm, because it reframes the problem as a failure of appropriate reaction rather than a failure of the leader’s integrity.
In these moments, the person expressing anger is no longer treated as someone responding to wrongdoing, but as someone creating it. Familiar phrases are then deployed to shut the conversation down altogether: this is gossip, pray more before you speak about this again, stop being divisive. Each one redirects attention away from accountability and places it onto the person who dared to speak up. Spiritual language is used to protect institutional image and not to protect the vulnerable or harmed. When anger is consistently reframed as a moral shortcoming rather than an appropriate response to harm, it exposes more than a misunderstanding of Scripture. Whether intentional or not, this seemingly exposes a system working behind the scenes, invested in preserving its own authority above spiritual safety. What is being protected is not unity or peace, but the stability of leadership and the image of the institution. By redefining warranted anger as sin, the focus is strategically shifted away from harmful behavior and onto the person who exercises the courage to name it. This is how control maintains itself in plain sight: not through overt force, but through spiritual language that disciplines emotional expression, discourages curiosity, and conditions people to silence themselves before those responsible are ever asked to account for their actions or complicity.
The daunting journey of recovering from spiritual abuse often begins with acknowledging the emotional wounds inflicted by manipulative systems or leaders.
Anger is not the danger in these environments. Awareness is. Anger is often the moment someone realizes that what is being preached does not align with what is being practiced. It is the emotional response that threatens stability because it demands honesty. We know that shaming anger has never prevented abuse or sin. But it has, and will, prevent exposure. Shaming emotion slowly strips away agency. It begins with doubting yourself, no longer trusting your instincts, and finally spiritualizing your own suppression. Over time, what is left is a community that is orderly, compliant, and emotionally disabled. Sadly, the result often is a group of people able to be controlled with minimal effort.
Let’s be honest, if a faith community cannot tolerate anger without resorting to shame, it is not committed to truth. The optics may appear that it is by repeating talking points that sound genuine and remorseful. Until once again reality begins to seep through the cracks, and it becomes clearer that a narrative is being formed, and control of image is the foundational goal.
And as it turns out, the brave ones who were silenced for speaking out in anger were not fighting against unity. No. They were and still are attempting to preserve it. Because at one point, they believed, wholeheartedly, it was worth preserving.
About the Guest Author:
Jennifer Glen is the founder of a grassroots effort devoted to nurturing healing for those recovering from the wounds of spiritual abuse and bringing clarity about its impact. Having walked her own journey through the lingering effects of controlling religious environments, Jennifer leads with empathy and a steadfast belief in the power of restoration.
A proud mother of five and wife to her best friend, she is deeply committed to ensuring victims of spiritual abuse are believed the first time they speak up and to helping them rediscover the safety and trust that make healing possible.
Disclaimer:
The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in guest blog posts are those of the individual authors and do not necessarily reflect the positions of the Religious Trauma Network. We recognize that each person’s healing journey is unique, personal, and courageous. The stories shared here belong solely to the contributors, and their experiences, perspectives, and advice may not apply to everyone. We encourage readers to honor their own paths and seek professional support as needed.