By Peridot Gilbert-Reed:
Like the Good Samaritan, we’re called to offer a healing balm, not pour salt on their wounds.
Pray, believe, and receive—or doubt and do without” was a phrase I often heard in my Christian circle. And although it was not intended to be a harmful adage, it became one.
That is, after I worked at a ministry where I was bullied, isolated, and left to fend for myself. When I finally decided to quit, friends and family still expected me to keep going to church. But I was so wounded from what I had experienced that the thought of attending church literally made me sick to my stomach.
I prayed and believed but didn’t receive. And every time, I felt shame and guilt. I couldn’t help but think, “Maybe I didn’t pray hard enough. Maybe I doubted without realizing it.” And whenever church peers repeated this adage, it caused a visceral response in me. I didn’t have language to convey why this statement bothered me so much at the time. But I do now.
As a therapist working with religious trauma, I have encountered many individuals who shared stories about experiences that didn’t quite classify as spiritual abuse but were equally unsettling. I began investigating this phenomenon further through my doctoral studies and soon stumbled upon a term to classify these experiences: spiritual bypass.
Spiritual bypassing is when a person uses Scripture, religious concepts or ideals, and spiritual mantras to “bypass” the effects of a negative experience out of a desire to ease their pain—for example, when we experience a loss and we say to ourselves, “God’s got this. His ways are higher than mine.” While this statement does hold truth, the statement may encourage us to “bypass” a healthy process of dealing with our feelings or thoughts about the loss.
However, as I studied this concept, I recognized spiritual bypassing can also be done toward another person—for example, if someone is expressing the hurt of his or her loss to a friend in the faith and that person responds with, “God’s got this. His ways are higher than yours. You just have to trust him.” This can cause the wounded person to feel dismissed, disregarded, shamed, and even spiritually gaslighted.
This is exactly what I experienced in the church—and I know many others have experienced it too. Understanding spiritual bypassing provided a language for my own experiences and for my clients seeking treatment for religious trauma. Instead of spiritual bypass, we are called to love our neighbors in such a way that honors their hurt as well as draws them to Christ—with the eventual (not immediate) goal of helping them heal emotionally and spiritually.
The Good Samaritan story in Luke 10 (vv. 25-37) is one with which most of us are familiar. A man is attacked, brutally beaten, and left for dead. But the wounding does not stop there. It continues as both the priest and Levite “bypass” the man on the other side of the path. These men, who are well aware of the law “Love your neighbor as yourself,” choose to ignore the man’s need for reasons we can only surmise.
What we do know is that a Samaritan, whom the Jews despised, is the only one who stops to help the man. He sees the man’s wounds and does not add insult to injury by passing him by on the other side. Instead, he draws near enough to see the man’s need and takes the time to bind his wounds with oil and wine—offering healing and relief specific to his wounds. And at his own expense, he brings the man to a place where he will have the time and space to heal.
Whether we are the Good Samaritan or the man in the road, this story reminds us of the high expectations Jesus has for his followers when it comes to caring for wounded neighbors.
www.christianitytoday.com
Like the Good Samaritan, we’re called to offer a healing balm, not pour salt on their wounds.
Pray, believe, and receive—or doubt and do without” was a phrase I often heard in my Christian circle. And although it was not intended to be a harmful adage, it became one.
That is, after I worked at a ministry where I was bullied, isolated, and left to fend for myself. When I finally decided to quit, friends and family still expected me to keep going to church. But I was so wounded from what I had experienced that the thought of attending church literally made me sick to my stomach.
I prayed and believed but didn’t receive. And every time, I felt shame and guilt. I couldn’t help but think, “Maybe I didn’t pray hard enough. Maybe I doubted without realizing it.” And whenever church peers repeated this adage, it caused a visceral response in me. I didn’t have language to convey why this statement bothered me so much at the time. But I do now.
As a therapist working with religious trauma, I have encountered many individuals who shared stories about experiences that didn’t quite classify as spiritual abuse but were equally unsettling. I began investigating this phenomenon further through my doctoral studies and soon stumbled upon a term to classify these experiences: spiritual bypass.
Spiritual bypassing is when a person uses Scripture, religious concepts or ideals, and spiritual mantras to “bypass” the effects of a negative experience out of a desire to ease their pain—for example, when we experience a loss and we say to ourselves, “God’s got this. His ways are higher than mine.” While this statement does hold truth, the statement may encourage us to “bypass” a healthy process of dealing with our feelings or thoughts about the loss.
However, as I studied this concept, I recognized spiritual bypassing can also be done toward another person—for example, if someone is expressing the hurt of his or her loss to a friend in the faith and that person responds with, “God’s got this. His ways are higher than yours. You just have to trust him.” This can cause the wounded person to feel dismissed, disregarded, shamed, and even spiritually gaslighted.
This is exactly what I experienced in the church—and I know many others have experienced it too. Understanding spiritual bypassing provided a language for my own experiences and for my clients seeking treatment for religious trauma. Instead of spiritual bypass, we are called to love our neighbors in such a way that honors their hurt as well as draws them to Christ—with the eventual (not immediate) goal of helping them heal emotionally and spiritually.
The Good Samaritan story in Luke 10 (vv. 25-37) is one with which most of us are familiar. A man is attacked, brutally beaten, and left for dead. But the wounding does not stop there. It continues as both the priest and Levite “bypass” the man on the other side of the path. These men, who are well aware of the law “Love your neighbor as yourself,” choose to ignore the man’s need for reasons we can only surmise.
What we do know is that a Samaritan, whom the Jews despised, is the only one who stops to help the man. He sees the man’s wounds and does not add insult to injury by passing him by on the other side. Instead, he draws near enough to see the man’s need and takes the time to bind his wounds with oil and wine—offering healing and relief specific to his wounds. And at his own expense, he brings the man to a place where he will have the time and space to heal.
Whether we are the Good Samaritan or the man in the road, this story reminds us of the high expectations Jesus has for his followers when it comes to caring for wounded neighbors.
Don’t ‘Spiritually Bypass’ Your Church-Hurt Neighbor - Christianity Today
“Pray, believe, and receive—or doubt and do without” was a phrase I often heard in my Christian circle. And although it was not intended to be a harmful adage, it became one. That is, after I worked at a ministry where I was bullied, isolated, and left to fend for myself. When I finally decided...
www.christianitytoday.com
