One of the traditional acts of contrition in the Catholic Church begins with “O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended you.” Can God get offended? The word is closely related to being attacked or wounded; resentment. Can God feel resentment? That surely doesn’t align with my image of God.

When I sin, is God offended? I think perhaps God may be disappointed or sad. But offence seems to me to be more of an unhealthy emotion. We need only look at our own experience when we are offended by someone. Are not our egos damaged? Richard Rohr says that when we are offended we are operating out of our false self.

“Invariably when something upsets you,” he writes in his book Falling Upward, “and you have a strong emotional reaction out of proportion to the moment, your shadow self has just been exposed.”

God does not have a shadow self. Metaphorically, God is pure light. And while I believe that God can experience emotions, I imagine that they are healthy emotional expressions that flow from God’s freedom, not reactive ego-based responses. When we believe that God can be offended, we believe that somehow our actions restrict God’s freedom and that God has an ego that can be wounded.

I’d like to examine five different emotions and their unhealthy pairs. When we project our own emotional patterns onto God, we often attribute to the divine our own unhealed wounds and defensive reactions. This tendency reveals more about our spiritual immaturity than about God’s true nature, and invites us to grow beyond our limited understanding.

Anger vs Resentment

In Mark’s Gospel, we see Jesus overturning tables in the temple, an act of righteous anger directed at the corruption of sacred space. This wasn’t the festering resentment we humans often carry when we’ve been wronged; it was a clear, purposeful response to injustice. Jesus didn’t harbour personal grudges against the money changers or hold onto this anger beyond its appropriate expression.

God’s anger in Scripture is consistently directed at systems and actions that harm the vulnerable—it serves restoration rather than retribution. Unlike human resentment, which often seeks to wound those who have wounded us, divine anger flows from a place of wholeness and seeks wholeness for all involved. When we experience anger, we might ask: Is this emotion moving me toward healing and justice, or is it feeding my need to be right and see others punished? The former reflects God’s true emotional life; the latter reveals our attachment to our false self.

Sadness vs Despair

In John’s Gospel, we witness one of the most touching moments in Scripture: “Jesus wept” at the tomb of his friend Lazarus. Here we see authentic sadness – Jesus experiences genuine grief over loss and suffering. Yet his sadness doesn’t collapse into despair. Even as he weeps, he remains connected to the possibility of resurrection and new life.

God’s sadness acknowledges the reality of pain in our world without being overwhelmed by it. When we sin or turn away, God may feel a deep sadness – not because we’ve wounded the divine ego, but because we’ve chosen paths that lead away from our wholeness and flourishing. Unlike human despair, which often loses sight of hope and possibility, divine sadness always holds space for transformation. We might ask ourselves: Does my sadness connect me more deeply to others and to reality, or does it isolate me in a narrative that nothing will ever change? The former reflects God’s emotional truth; the latter suggests we’ve fallen into despair, forgetting that even in darkness, light remains.

Concern vs Anxiety

In Matthew’s Gospel, Jesus addresses our tendency toward worry with the beautiful passage about the birds of the air and the lilies of the field. “Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.” This teaching reveals God’s deep concern for creation that exists without the grip of anxiety. Divine concern acknowledges needs and responds appropriately, but never falls into the catastrophizing and control that characterise human anxiety.

God’s concern for us is attentive and responsive but respects our freedom. When we struggle or face challenges, God is intimately concerned with our welfare, but this concern doesn’t manifest as the nervous hand-wringing or micromanaging that human anxiety often produces. We might consider: Does my concern for others or situations lead me to appropriate care and action, or does it spiral into worry that attempts to control outcomes beyond my reach? The former reflects God’s way of caring; the latter reveals our struggle to trust in a greater wisdom than our own. True concern operates from abundance rather than scarcity, from trust rather than fear—revealing again the difference between emotions flowing from our true self versus our false self.

Disappointment vs Rejection

The book of Hosea offers one of Scripture’s most poignant portraits of divine disappointment without rejection. God speaks through the prophet, “When Israel was a child, I loved him… the more they were called, the more they went away from me.” Here we witness God’s genuine disappointment with Israel’s choices—a disappointment born of love and dashed hopes, not of wounded pride.

Yet this disappointment never leads to rejection. The passage continues with the stunning question, “How can I give you up, Ephraim?” God’s disappointment acknowledges the reality of broken relationship without breaking the relationship itself. Unlike human rejection, which often withdraws care and connection when someone fails to meet our expectations, divine disappointment remains steadfastly committed to restoration. We might examine: When I feel disappointed, do I use this feeling as justification to distance myself from others, or does it become an invitation to deeper understanding and renewed commitment? The former reveals our tendency toward conditional love; the latter reflects God’s unwavering faithfulness that holds disappointment without ever letting it become rejection.

Desire for Justice vs Vengeance

In Ezekiel, we encounter God’s profound statement about justice: “Do I take any pleasure in the death of the wicked? declares the Sovereign Lord. Rather, am I not pleased when they turn from their ways and live?” This reveals the heart of God’s justice—not a desire to punish, but a longing for transformation and restoration. God desires justice precisely because God loves us and wants what is best for all creation.

This stands in stark contrast to human vengeance—a distorted understanding of justice—which often seeks to inflict suffering as payback for wrongs committed. When we slip into vengeance, we mistakenly believe that causing pain to those who have caused pain will somehow balance the scales. But God’s justice operates differently—it aims to heal both victim and perpetrator, to restore right relationship rather than merely settle scores. We might question ourselves: Does my desire for justice stem from a genuine concern for restoration and healing, or have I crossed into wanting to see others suffer as I or others have suffered? The former aligns with God’s restorative justice; the latter reveals our attachment to retribution and vengeance, which only perpetuates cycles of harm rather than breaking them.

We need to stop attributing false self-emotions to God. Such emotions are not fruits of unconditional love.

As we read Scripture, we witness humanity’s understanding of God maturing—from early portrayals that often reflect our own reactive tendencies to the full revelation of wholeness in Jesus Christ. The God who commanded the slaughter of enemies in early texts gives way to Jesus commanding us to love our enemies. This evolution isn’t about God changing, but about our capacity to perceive God’s true nature growing more sophisticated. In Jesus, we see the perfect embodiment of healthy emotional expression—righteous anger without vengeance, compassion without enabling, disappointment without rejection. When we look at Christ, we see what God’s emotional life truly looks like: not a storm of ego-based reactions, but the steady, clear expressions of a true self fully aligned with love.

The traditional act of contrition might better say, “O my God, I am heartily sorry for having damaged my relationship with you and others.” God is not offended by our sins, but rather deeply concerned with our wholeness and the wholeness of all creation. When we release our projections of ego-driven emotions onto God, we begin to see more clearly God’s true nature and how we’re made in that image.

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