Discussing emotional rest this week led me back to an old piece I wrote that I’ve been mustering the courage to finish and share. As a deep feeling woman who longs to be rooted and grounded in the truth at all times, these are reflections on the wrong paths I’ve taken and insights on the first few steps I’ve taken on better paths. Now seems like the right time to share these reflections, but they need an introduction! So here is part one.
I’ve always been a deep feeler
Feelings can feel like tidal waves to me, for as long as I can remember. From the yearly sweeping excitement and anticipation for my birthday to the crush of embarrassment about the tears that can so easily rise in me after a harsh word.
At some point during my teenage years, overwhelmed by my own overwhelm, I sought out my Dad to ask a question much heavier on my heart than I portrayed at the time. “Dad, why am I so emotional? Do you think there’s something wrong with me? Please tell me it will mellow out as I get older?!” I didn’t say anything more than this, but my eyes welled up, and the desperation in my heart to be different began to involuntarily leak out of me.
He responded with loving encouragement saying, “No there’s nothing wrong with you! And while you’ll grow older and learn how to handle them better than you do now, there’s something called “temperament” or “disposition,” which is just part of how God made you! So no, there’s nothing wrong with you!”
To this day, I have clung to those words. While being overwhelmed by the depth of my emotions, and being called/perceived as “intense” by others, his words simultaneously helped me stabilize and created a posture of waiting to grow out of these big feelings. Which, note, is not what my Dad said.
The serpent still speaks.
Papering over the cracks
This hope to outgrow my emotionality meant that I lived in persistent search of a fix. Both consciously and unconsciously. I learned from others who seemed to live distinctly less bothered lives and tried to train myself to simply swallow my feelings and present as an easy-going chill person. I dove into my intellectual side because that type of “intense” seemed to impress people rather than scare them off. I looked at the girls who (from my vantage point) had it easier. The ones who seemed to bop along with peppy personalities and a lightness I tried to mimic.
I always had envy for those girls who seemed all smiles and untouched by anything complicated. Not because I was melancholic, not at all, I felt positive feelings deeply, too. But because they seemed to hold joy as a simple cube. Yet it was a Rubix cube for me. Always mixed up with multiple other awarenesses and feelings making it feel deep and complex rather than light and airy.
None of these stuck for long. But then I began to pick up something that did stick. As I dove deeper into my faith, and sought the Lord through church community, I started learning a theology of emotions that is, at best, limited, and at worst, harmful.
Though well-meaning, teachings sought to encourage me to trust God in all things, slowly taught me instead that my Dad was wrong. There was something wrong with me. I began to learn that my emotions were a sign of my immature faith. Something that pointed to a lack of understanding of the Gospel, and even worse, a lack of trust in God. That the depth to which things impacted me, revealed something about my relationship with God. That scripture says “Don’t be anxious for anything,” so every moment of anxiety was not just a feeling, but was sin. That sadness, disappointment, and most of all (the very taboo) anger, were things to deny, deny, deny.
And, to boot, I learned the Christianese to really seal it in there. I learned to say things were fine when they were not; to minimize hard experiences and feelings because God is bigger and better than my problems. It was a chronic hunt for the silver lining in all things. I would draw one on any cloud that I couldn’t find one on! Saying things that did not truly reflect my internal reality, or take my heartaches seriously. I slowly established a norm of performed vulnerability, that in reality was a detached transparency that made it feel like I was sharing what was going on. Really I was sharing a false narrative about how “ok” I was, and how well I was handling things. I was not engaging with my feelings, nor was I really encountering the truth God had to offer me. I was papering over them with torn-out Bible pages, in place of healing words from the Father.
Spiritual Bypassing
I now know this to be something called “spiritual bypassing.” Spiritual bypassing is: the us of “spiritual ideas and practices to sidestep personal, emotional ‘unfinished business,’ to shore up a shaky sense of self, or to belittle basic needs, feelings, and developmental tasks.” In a nutshell, a spiritualized form of “avoidance and repression” that allows us to feel like we can “rise above or handle the shaky ground beneath.” The shaky ground of our circumstances AND our feelings about our circumstances.
This can look like:
- Exaggerated detachment from something emotional
- Numbing and repression
- Overemphasis on the positive
- Anger phobia or avoidance of anger
- Blind or overly tolerant compassion
- Not setting boundaries
- Weak or too porous boundaries
- Debilitating judgment about one’s negativity or shadow side
I can assure you, that spiritual bypassing is a cheap counterfeit for healing and God-gifted peace. It says more about our shame and determination to live in black-and-white certainty than it will ever say about God and who He is.
An alternative pathway to grounded faith
And yes, of course, we want to be rooted and grounded in what God has said, not tossed to-and-fro by the whims of our feelings and the ups and downs of circumstance. But that groundedness does not come from denial, repression, or lying to ourselves and others. It comes from honesty with God and His promised subsequent intervention.
Think of it this way (DIRECTNESS PREWARNING), if I go to the doctor and tell her I’ve been having mild stomach aches, but I have a UTI, they can’t help me. Similarly, if I go to God and tell Him I’m a bit sad about that job I didn’t get, or the relationship that broke down, but really I’m devastated and struggling to get through the day, how can He help me?
Further, going to church, plastering on a smile every week, saying “I’m well, by God’s grace,” to every “how are you,” hiding the truth that you’re on your last wisp of faith, losing strength and hope, means that no one can help you.
Spiritual bypassing robs us of relational support from others, and it robs us of the encounter with God that could change everything.
“Daughter, be of good cheer…”
The woman with the issue of blood serves as a wonderful example of both sides of this. She sought Jesus out, firmly convinced that He would heal her and change her whole life. She didn’t say, “oh, it’s not a big deal, God is good!” and avoid Jesus! Her true knowledge and faith in His goodness drew her to Him. Her weariness and pain had resulted in social isolation and 12 years of expulsion from the Temple, her need was so great that it could not be minimized, and so she went to Jesus. She is a great example of going to God for healing, rather than spiritual bypassing.
But at the same time, her pain and feelings of shame told her that she should not bother Jesus, that she was not worthy of His time and attention. She wanted the healing enough to approach Jesus, but was so steeped in shame that she didn’t want Him to notice her, only touching the hem of his garment rather than coming to Him and asking directly for healing. She even hid for a while after he asked “who touched me?” But Jesus called her forward to look at her. He called her out of the crowd not to reprimand her for her feelings of shame, but to lift them from her by embracing her with the name “daughter.”
He healed her body, yes, but He did not want her to leave without healing her heart and mind. Jesus beheld her. He didn’t demand that she be grateful enough for the instant stopping of the blood. In that moment, Jesus met her in the grief of a dozen years. He made sure she left knowing that He had seen her. Both in that moment, and the countless moments she had felt alone before.
This is what Jesus is offering us, too.
Allow Him to behold you
So, I’m learning that while my Dad was right (I am, indeed, a highly sensitive person), I am not unique in my struggles with feelings. Many of us fall into the trap of spiritual bypassing because it seems like the right(eous) thing to do!
I’m learning to be honest with God about everything. And when I say learning, I mean I genuinely have to remind myself and allow Him to remind me, pretty much every day! I invite you to join me in that retraining of mind and heart.
Rather than resent your emotional needs, your fragility, and the childlike nature of your heart, go to Him with all of that in tow.
Come back next week for part 2 where I will share more insights from my (baby) steps on this new road of honesty with God.
Scriptural Meditations
Mark 5:25-34
25 Now a certain woman had a flow of blood for twelve years, 26 and had suffered many things from many physicians. She had spent all that she had and was no better, but rather grew worse. 27 When she heard about Jesus, she came behind Him in the crowd and touched His garment. 28 For she said, “If only I may touch His clothes, I shall be made well.”
29 Immediately the fountain of her blood was dried up, and she felt in her body that she was healed of the [a]affliction. 30 And Jesus, immediately knowing in Himself that power had gone out of Him, turned around in the crowd and said, “Who touched My clothes?”
31 But His disciples said to Him, “You see the multitude thronging You, and You say, ‘Who touched Me?’ ”
32 And He looked around to see her who had done this thing. 33 But the woman, fearing and trembling, knowing what had happened to her, came and fell down before Him and told Him the whole truth. 34 And He said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well. Go in peace, and be healed of your affliction.”