On Spiritual Bypassing
Silent Saturday
Many years ago, John Welwood, a prominent psychotherapist, coined the term “spiritual bypassing” and defined it as using “spiritual ideas and practices to sidestep personal, emotional unfinished business, to shore up a shaky sense of self, or to belittle basic needs and feelings.” Diana Raab summed up the foundation of spiritual bypassing as “avoidance and repression; and for some individuals, spirituality serves as a way to rise above or handle the shaky ground beneath.”
I’ve been thinking a lot about spiritual bypassing. My friend Kristi has always called me a “church girl” because, for the better part of the last 30 years, I’ve been intimately involved in the operation of the local church, usually as part of a church staff. And as a lifelong church girl, I’ve become adept at spiritual bypassing. I tend to experience something painful and then rush to the “God is sovereign, and all will be well!” part of my processing. And is God sovereign? Oh yes, He is. And will all be well? Yes! This is an unalterable truth. But here in my older age (ahem), I realize my tendency to bypass the first part of any painful experience… the pain itself. I’m most comfortable not being uncomfortable.
I think on this side of the resurrection, we have a tendency to do this with the Saturday between Good Friday and Easter Sunday. After all, we know now what they didn’t know then. We don’t sit in the grief and loss of Saturday because we know the joy of Sunday. We also know how our stories will ultimately end: with every pain relieved and every tear dried. (Rev. 21:4) So what do we do with the silent Saturdays of our lives? Is there any good to be found between the painful things we experience and the day God makes everything right?
On that silent Saturday, it seemed all had been lost. The followers of Jesus had been pierced alongside their Lord. They had broken hearts and shattered plans. They were disillusioned and in despair. They were not just unsure and confused, but also afraid. Grief must have felt like a weighted blanket of misery with no relief. What would they do? Where would they go? How would they continue? Everything is different now. They didn’t have an option to spiritually bypass their pain because they didn’t have any hope that something better would come. They had to experience every agonizing feeling, thought, and fear as it crashed over them.
Jesus had declared in the Garden of Gethsemane that darkness reigned, and now it looked as though darkness had won. Remember what the “spiritual leaders” were doing on Saturday?
The next day, the one after Preparation Day, the chief priests and the Pharisees went to Pilate. “Sir,” they said, “we remember that while he was still alive that deceiver said, ‘After three days I will rise again.’ So give the order for the tomb to be made secure until the third day. Otherwise, his disciples may come and steal the body and tell the people that he has been raised from the dead. This last deception will be worse than the first.” “Take a guard,” Pilate answered. “Go, make the tomb as secure as you know how.” So they went and made the tomb secure by putting a seal on the stone and posting the guard. Matthew 27:62-66
Now, guards were posted and a seal was on the tomb. Every step had been taken to ensure no one went in, and no one came out of that tomb. Things just kept getting worse. Darkness had certainly won—or had it?
But before we rush to tomorrow, it’s worth slowing down to be present in today.
Are you tempted to bypass any past or current pain in your life? Hear this clearly: it is NOT unspiritual to feel the impacts of the hurtful things that happen to us.
What might God want to cultivate in you through the pain He’s allowed in your life? Often, we learn through suffering things we can’t learn any other way.
What is a next step you can take to ensure you don’t bypass your pain? Perhaps it’s time to say true things out loud, or begin counseling, or take a break.
I promise I’m just asking you the questions I’m asking myself. I don’t want to miss the unique lessons in my pain, but I also can’t learn them if I don’t listen.
Unbeknownst to the grieving group on that silent Saturday, God had never stopped working. His silence wasn’t the same as His absence. If God seems silent to you today, take heart! He is not absent, but is nearer than you think and working for your good.
God, we don’t pretend to understand how you use our pain for your purposes. But we also don’t want to go around or avoid what you intend for our good. Help us confidently trust you in our sufferings as a safe place to pour out our hearts. For there we’ll receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need. (Heb. 4:16)
