Sincerity Is Not Accuracy

There are mornings when I sit with my coffee, open my Bible, and realize how much of my life has been led by feelings I thought were discernment.

Not rebellion.

Not hardness.

Just sincerity.

And sincerity can be dangerous when it goes untested.

Hebrews 4:12 says:

“For the word of God is alive and powerful. It is sharper than the sharpest two-edged sword, cutting between soul and spirit, between joint and marrow. It exposes our innermost thoughts and desires.”

I used to read that verse and only think about conviction. About God exposing sin.

But lately, I’ve been realizing something deeper.

The Word of God does not only expose what is evil.

It exposes what is inaccurate.

It separates soul from spirit.

Feelings from truth.

Fear from discernment.

Trauma from wisdom.

Human interpretation from the actual voice of God.

And honestly, I think many of us have spent years confusing the two.

The writer of Hebrews compares soul and spirit to joints and marrow. That imagery matters because joints and marrow are deeply connected. They live together. They function together. Yet the Word is sharp enough to separate them.

That’s how our inner world feels sometimes.

Our emotions can feel spiritual.

Our fears can sound wise.

Our wounds can masquerade as discernment.

You can genuinely feel something and still be completely wrong about what God is saying.

That realization has humbled me deeply.

Because there have been seasons where I interpreted silence as rejection.

Correction as punishment.

Waiting as abandonment.

Not because God said those things.

But because my experiences taught me to hear Him that way.

And if I’m honest, some of that came from what was done to me “in the name of God.”

I know what it feels like to have people weaponize Scripture instead of embodying it.

To experience harshness labeled as holiness.

Control labeled as spiritual authority.

Manipulation wrapped in Bible verses.

There were moments in my life where God’s name was attached to things that looked nothing like His heart.

That kind of pain does something to a person.

It makes you suspicious of closeness with God.

It makes you question whether His voice is actually safe.

It taints intimacy because now every correction feels threatening and every hardship feels personal.

And for a long time, I didn’t realize how much those experiences shaped my interpretation of God.

I was sincere.

But sincerity is not accuracy.

Jeremiah 1:11-12 always stands out to me because God asks Jeremiah what he sees. Jeremiah answers, and God responds that he has seen correctly.

Correctly.

Which means it is possible to see incorrectly.

Possible to misinterpret.

Possible to project our emotions, wounds, and assumptions onto God’s voice.

That is why Scripture tells us to test the spirits.

Not every thought is wisdom.

Not every feeling is discernment.

Not every internal reaction is the Holy Spirit.

Sometimes what we call discernment is actually anxiety.

Sometimes what we call patience is avoidance.

Sometimes what we call empathy is enabling.

Sometimes what we call “waiting on God” is fear of moving forward.

I’ve had to learn that the hard way.

There have been moments where I felt completely justified in my emotions only to realize later that my feelings were rooted in old wounds, not present truth.

Feelings are real.

But they are not always reliable narrators.

That is why Hebrews says the Word cuts.

Because separation is necessary for healing.

The Word of God lovingly exposes where my soul ends and His Spirit begins.

It reveals when I am reacting from fear instead of faith.

When I am operating from survival instead of trust.

When my perception of God has been filtered through pain instead of relationship.

And healing requires honesty.

Not performative honesty.

Not the kind where we admit safe things.

Real honesty.

The kind where you sit before God and admit:

“I do not know if this is Your voice or my fear.”

“I do not know if I’m being discerning or defensive.”

“I do not know if I’m protecting wisdom or protecting wounds.”

That vulnerability changes things.

Because God is not intimidated by our confusion.

He is patient enough to teach us how to hear Him correctly again.

That has been one of the most healing parts of my relationship with Him lately.

Learning that God does not shame me for misunderstanding Him.

He corrects me gently.

He teaches patiently.

He separates soul from spirit carefully, like a surgeon and not a destroyer.

And the more I study Scripture for myself, the more I realize how much peace comes from knowing His actual character instead of the distorted versions I inherited from people.

The Word gives protection from deception.

Correction from calamity.

Peace under pressure.

But only if we handle it correctly.

Not using Scripture to confirm our emotions.

Not cherry-picking verses to justify bitterness or fear.

But allowing the Word to confront us honestly.

To study it.

To speak it.

To submit to it.

Because shortcuts really do take longer.

Growth does not happen automatically.

Healing does not happen accidentally.

And maturity requires intentionality spiritually, emotionally, relationally, and mentally.

I think that’s why Hebrews describes the Word as alive.

Because it still speaks into the hidden places we try to protect.

Still reveals motives.

Still exposes distortions.

Still lovingly calls us back to truth.

And maybe that is what freedom actually looks like.

Not becoming emotionless.

But becoming discerning enough to know when our feelings are leading us somewhere God never said to go.