“I’m still processing that.”

I hear this phrase, or some variation of it, all the time from folks around my age (I’m 32). I’m not aware of hearing it often from older people.

I’m part of a generation of processors. We “process” everything: Suffering. Grief. Hardship. Loss. Confusing circumstances. Arguments. Hurt feelings. Good dates. Bad dates. Neutral dates. Movies. Books. TV shows. Throwaway comments. Advice. Sermons. Worship services. Meetings. Feedback from bosses. Feedback from coworkers. Feedback from subordinates. Elections.

What do we mean by “processing”? Typically, we mean something like spending enough time thinking about an experience, encounter, or event to have a settled conclusion on it and its effects on us. Before we’re ready to talk about it or share how it has affected us, we need time to process.

The rise in processing talk is directly connected to the rise of the therapeutic generally in Western culture. Processing is one of the major goals of therapy, and in a generation saturated with therapy talk, it makes sense that this concept would be ubiquitous for younger adults.

On the surface, this isn’t bad. It can even approximate biblical virtues like being “slow to speak” (James 1:19). But based on my experience with processing and my observations as a friend and pastor, I think we’re in danger of overprocessing.

Ultra-Processed Experiences

Just as ultra-processed foods can be bad for our physical health, when we overprocess experiences, we artificially prolong their lives with unnatural ingredients that alter the DNA of the original experience, encounter, or event. This causes us harm.

What are those “unnatural ingredients”? Here’s one: venting. Processing often takes the form of venting to a close confidant or spouse. I’ve been guilty of processing some experience with my wife, only to have her ask me, “Is what you’re doing helpful? Do you want advice? Or do you just want to complain about this person?”

It’s not always bad to get something off your chest in a safe, confidential space. But when that turns to venting, gossiping, and grumbling, you’re not only sinning against the person you’re talking about; you’re poisoning the well of your own heart. Venting doesn’t help you process an experience; it expels the possibility of grace and hardens your heart.

When we overprocess experiences and encounters, we artificially prolong their lives with unnatural ingredients.

Another unnatural ingredient common in our processing is rumination. The American Psychiatric Association defines it this way: “Rumination involves repetitive thinking or dwelling on negative feelings and distress and their causes and consequences. . . . [It] can contribute to the development of depression or anxiety and can worsen existing conditions.”

How does rumination work in practice? You’ve had a hard conversation with a friend. As you process it, your mind latches on to two or three hurtful comments he made—or maybe something you said that you wish you could’ve said differently. You replay these moments and read meaning into them. As days go by, the unhelpful comments loom larger and larger, crowding out other things—possibly humbler or more gracious things—said in the conversation. By the time you’ve fully processed the conversation, your emotions about it are more heightened than they were at the beginning.

Rumination internalizes the self’s thoughts and interpretations, while venting externalizes them. In both cases, it is I whose interpretation reigns, I whose thoughts shape the narrative.

You can tell you’re an overprocessor if, at the end of your thinking about various events, encounters, or experiences, you feel more upset, aggrieved, or offended than you did to begin with. This can have devastating effects on Christian friendship and community. Overprocessing can chill marital relationships, distance close friends, and lead to church departures or cutting off relatives. It can catch people in a vicious, never-ending cycle of bitterness and anger.

We need a better way.

Better Way to Process

Again, not all processing is bad. The best version can lead us to a more sensible interpretation of a situation than our gut reaction, and it can help us move forward with wisdom. But how do we get there? I want to offer five steps to help us process well.

1. Pray.

Often when we pray through a hard experience, we make petitions. “God, help her to see this from my perspective.” “God, please fix this hard situation.” “God, this was really hurtful to me—please lead him to see his error and apologize.” These prayers aren’t necessarily wrong, but if this is the only way we pray, it can simply turn into another form of rumination.

Instead, we ought to bring hard experiences before the Lord and then leave them in his presence. Pray Scripture. Pray for wisdom. Rest in God’s presence. Imitate the psalmists, who are no strangers to voicing complaints to God—but whose complaints are usually followed by reminding themselves of God’s past faithfulness, trusting in his present goodness, and believing in the certainty of his promises for the future.

As you pray, ask God to fill you with his Spirit—a prayer he loves to answer (Luke 11:13). Ask him to help you see it with his eyes. If you come out of it with all your previous thoughts already affirmed and ready to double down, go back and try again; you almost certainly haven’t been led by the Spirit.

2. Submit to God’s Word.

Scripture should challenge you. Are you in conflict? God’s Word tells you, “If possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone” (Rom. 12:18, CSB). Think you’ve been mistreated? Jesus says, “If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with him two” (Matt. 5:41). Got a clear conscience? Jesus goes even further: “Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect” (v. 48).

On the other hand, Scripture should comfort you (Matt. 11:28; Isa. 42:3; Heb. 4:15). God’s Word is your lifeblood in the processing period. It should challenge you and comfort you. Let it do both.

3. Steady your heart with sound theology.

Your feelings after an argument, an offense, or perceived mistreatment may be valid. But feelings are a great thermometer and a terrible thermostat. The thermostat of your heart shouldn’t be how you feel but what you know to be true about God. He is sovereign. He is holy. Christ died to redeem every broken and sin-scarred situation. Reconciliation is already accomplished in Christ and will be revealed fully in eternity.

These theological truths—and many more—are a balm for hurting and weary souls. We should never process our experiences apart from them.

4. Seek the wise counsel of other believers.

Seeking counsel can be dangerous if we do it in the wrong way: for example, if we only seek those who will give us space to vent, or if we only seek affirmation from people who’ve just heard our side of a story and are probably afraid to challenge us.

What we need is a cadre of godly counselors who aren’t afraid of us and will tell us we’re a little off, way off, or in outright sin. Even when we think we’re justified in our anger, a wise counselor will help us see the other party’s perspective and interpret her actions charitably, or will help us see some blind spot with greater clarity.

5. Get outside your head.

Look for activities that draw you out of your own thoughts when you’re tempted to keep mulling over a hard situation. When I get stuck ruminating and venting, I need to sweat—go for a run or work in the yard.

What’s that for you? Maybe you need to go for a walk, cook something, or go on a date with your spouse and not talk about that thing that’s bugging you. This can do wonders to help break the cycle of overprocessing.

Antidote to Rumination and Venting

Processing can be good—it can help us think wisely about life’s circumstances and how to respond well to them. But overprocessing is bad. It’s a paralyzing trap that perpetuates anxiety and bitterness. We must be careful lest we damage our relationships as well as our hearts.

But when I take myself out of the driver’s seat of my processing and invite in another voice—God’s voice, through his Word and his people—I can reorient to what’s true. Then and only then will my thoughts prove fruitful.