I don’t like devotional books.
I don’t get lost in emotional worship experiences.
And as much as I’ve wanted to be the kind of person who sings with arms raised, eyes closed, heart full of joy—I just end up fixating on whether I’m flashing sweaty armpits to everyone around me (spoiler: I probably am).
For years, I sat in small groups and Bible studies wondering if something was wrong with me. I couldn’t connect with the kind of touchy-feely spirituality so many of my friends seemed to thrive on. While they were talking about what a worship song felt like, I was more interested in debating Paul’s logic on justification.
Then I came across an essay by C.S. Lewis called On the Reading of Old Books, and it cracked something open in me. “For my own part, I tend to find the doctrinal books often more helpful in devotion than the devotional books,” Lewis wrote, “and I rather suspect that the same experience may await many others.”
Cue the aha moment. Years of low-key worrying that I was unspiritual or a bad Christian began to melt away. Then Lewis really hit the nail on the head:
“I believe that many who find that ‘nothing happens’ when they sit down or kneel down, to a book of devotion, would find that the heart sings unbidden while they are working their way through a tough bit of theology with a pipe in their teeth and a pencil in their hands.”
Swap the pencil for a laptop and the pipe for a latte (or, let’s be real, a beer) and this was my exact experience. But if Lewis—C.S. Freaking Lewis—felt this way, why did it feel like we were in the minority?
The American church has absolutely nailed the emotional, devotional style of spirituality—and don’t get me wrong, that’s great. But it also means that for those of us whose spiritual growth looks less like Jesus Culture and more like Jesus, But Make It an Academic Paper, it can feel like we’re standing out in the cold.
And that’s a problem. Not just because it leaves a whole group of believers feeling like outsiders but because Jesus Himself was more than capable of engaging both emotional and intellectual faith styles.
Take Mary and Martha, the sisters of Bethany. They both hit Jesus with the exact same lament: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” But Jesus doesn’t respond to them the same way.
To Mary, He gives emotional comfort. He doesn’t explain; He just weeps with her. And that’s exactly what she needs.
Martha, on the other hand, challenges Him: “But I know that even now God will give you whatever you ask.” She’s not just grieving—she’s pushing for answers. And Jesus meets her there, engaging her mind, stretching her faith, making her wrestle with what she really believes.
Neither woman is better than the other. Neither faith style is superior. Jesus meets both where they are and draws them deeper. So why doesn’t the modern church do the same?
If you’re more of a Martha than a Mary, here’s the good news: Your brain is not a liability to your faith. And you don’t have to pretend to be someone you’re not. But you do have to engage. Here’s how:
1. Say what you need
If you’d rather dig into a thick theology book than read another devotional, speak up! For years, I kept my thoughts to myself, assuming I was the only one who didn’t connect with the “Jesus Calling” vibes. Spoiler: I wasn’t. And you aren’t either. Even those who do love devotionals might be up for something new if you suggest it.
2. Find your lane—and own it
If the existing church roles don’t fit your strengths, make your own. Maybe leading an emotional prayer night isn’t your thing but what about facilitating a Bible study where you unpack the historical context of a passage? Churches need teachers as much as they need worship leaders.
3. Try emotional spirituality—sometimes
Yes, intellectual faith is valid. But if we never step outside our comfort zone, we risk disengaging emotionally altogether. If emotional spirituality feels awkward or unnatural, that doesn’t mean it’s bad—it might just mean it’s stretching you in ways you need to grow. Faith isn’t supposed to be easy.
4. Give grace to the feelers
It’s tempting to roll your eyes at people who get weepy over worship music or find God in nature walks. But remember: The same Jesus who engaged Martha’s intellect also sat with Mary in her grief. The church needs both. “There are different kinds of service but the same Lord.”
Faith isn’t just about your heart—it’s about your whole self. Your doubts, your curiosity, your questions. And just because the church has leaned heavily into emotional spirituality doesn’t mean your intellectual faith doesn’t belong. It absolutely does. And if anyone makes you feel otherwise? Just tell them C.S. Lewis is on your side.
