Spiritual Bypassing: When “Good Vibes Only” Becomes a Tool of Control
Why “Let Go and Let god” can be a profound violation of your humanity.
One of the more disorienting wounds of high-control religious systems is having your deepest pain met with an ideological platitude. (I say ideological rather than theological because nothing about these are holy).
You come forward with a story of grief, betrayal, or confusion, your body humming with the felt reality of your suffering. In return, you are handed a neatly packaged spiritual slogan:
“Everything happens for a reason.”
“Just choose joy.”
“god won’t give you more than you can handle.”
The message, whether spoken or implied, is clear: your difficult human emotions are a spiritual problem to be solved, not a reality to be held.
This is spiritual bypassing.
And if you’ve ever felt dismissed, invalidated, or even shamed by it, you are not imagining things.
Naming this tactic is how we begin to reclaim our embodied reality.
A Note Before You Begin
This post discusses the way some religious beliefs can be used to disconnect us from our bodies and our emotional and spiritual pain.
Your safety and agency are what matter most.
You are in charge here. Pause, save this for later, or step away at any time. Your pace is the right pace.
Take only what resonates. Skim the headings. If a section feels too activating, you have permission to skip it.
Trust your body. If you feel your shoulders tightening or your breath becoming shallow, listen to that. As Hillary McBride teaches, these are not signs of weakness, but signals from a body trying to keep you safe.
What is Spiritual Bypassing?
Spiritual bypassing is the use of religious beliefs, language, and practices to sidestep or avoid complex human emotions and psychological needs.
As author Anna Clark Miller notes in The Religious Trauma Survival Guide, it’s a pattern of sidestepping emotionally complex issues with “simple spiritualizations.”
The intention is often to offer comfort or perspective.
The impact, however, is the profound invalidation of our very real need to feel seen, heard, and respected.
In high-control systems, this isn’t just an accidental habit; it’s a feature.
Spiritual bypassing functions as a powerful, albeit subtle, tactic of control.
It teaches you that certain feelings—anger, grief, doubt, fear—are marks of spiritual immaturity.
It implicitly creates a hierarchy of acceptable expressions of emotions, and in doing so, it trains you to suppress, deny, and dissociate from your own authentic, human experience.
What Spiritual Bypassing Sounds Like
It often comes disguised as wisdom or encouragement.
It’s the constant pressure to find a silver lining, to dismiss the messiness of being human in exchange for false appearance of piety.
When you are grieving a loss:
“They’re in a better place now, so there’s no need to be sad.”
“Everything works together for our good.”
“Lay your burdens down.”
When you are angry about injustice or abuse:
“You just need to forgive and forget.”
“Don’t let your anger cause you to sin.”
“We have to trust god’s plan.”
When you are anxious or depressed:
“Just pray about it more.”
“This is a spiritual attack; you need to have more faith.”
“Let go and let god.”
When you are questioning or doubting:
“Don’t lean on your own understanding.”
“god works in mysterious ways.”
“Doubt is a sign of a weak spirit.”
The underlying message of all these phrases is the same: Your present reality is not as important as the religious ideal you should be aspiring to.
(Bonus thought: I think “should” is a bad word. Please don’t allow anyone to should on you and try not to should on yourself.)
The Impact: A Discipleship into Disembodiment
The most devastating consequence of spiritual bypassing is that it severs you from your own body.
Hillary McBride emphasizes in The Wisdom of Your Body that our mental well-being and bodily condition are an “indivisible whole.”
Your body is constantly communicating with you:
That knot in your stomach when a leader speaks.
The tension in your shoulders during a service.
The shallow breathing when you feel judged.
The chronic fatigue or unexplained pain that doctors can’t find a cause for.
These are not random malfunctions; they are alarm signals.
They are, as discussed in The Religious Trauma Survival Guide, your nervous system’s way of telling you that you are not safe.
Spiritual bypassing trains you to systematically override these signals.
It teaches you to treat your body as a deceptive or untrustworthy source of information.
You learn to silence the physical feelings associated with your experiences, labeling them as “lack of faith” or “spiritual weakness.”
This has the potential to lead to religious trauma and get stored in our bodies.
The anxiety your mind has been taught to suppress lives on as chronic pain.
The grief you weren’t allowed to process manifests as digestive issues.
The rage you couldn’t express becomes tension headaches you can’t ignore. (And as my therapist told me last week, “Rage can be the body’s way of saying ‘someone violated my dignity.’”)
Spiritual bypassing doesn’t resolve pain; it just forces your body to bear the burden of it in silence.
A Gentle Embodiment Practice
If reading this has stirred something in your body, that makes sense.
You are remembering.
If it feels safe to do so, I want to invite you into a gentle embodiment practice. If this doesn’t feel good, right, or safe, please feel free to skip it.
As always, consent is key.
Feel Your Support. Notice the surface beneath you—the chair, the floor. Feel it holding you completely. You don’t have to hold yourself up. Let it take your weight.
Find a Soothing Texture. Gently touch an object nearby—a smooth stone, the fabric of your shirt, a cool mug. Focus on the physical sensation of that object for three full breaths.
Initiate a Body Dialogue. Place one hand on your chest and one on your stomach. Close your eyes if that feels safe. Silently or in a whisper, ask your body: “What do you need to hear right now?” Trust the first answer that arises. It might be a word, a feeling, or an image.
Offer a Kind Word. Respond to your body with a simple affirmation, like “I’m here with you,” or “We can go slowly,” or “I am listening now.”
Moving from Bypassing to Integration
Reclaiming your wholeness is not about rejecting spirituality; it’s about integrating it with your full humanity.
It’s the courageous work of trusting that your body and your spirit are not at odds with each other.
Here are a few steps to begin that journey:
Name the Bypass: When you hear a platitude, silently name it for what it is: “That is spiritual bypassing.” This act of naming creates a small space of awareness. It exercises your right to hermeneutical justice—the right to have the words for your experience.
Honor the Body’s “No”: Instead of overriding physical signs of stress, become curious. When your stomach clenches, pause and ask, “What is this feeling trying to tell me?” This shifts the goal from suppression to connection.
Practice “Both/And” Thinking: High-control systems thrive on either/or. Integration thrives on both/and. Give yourself permission to hold two things at once.
“I can be heartbroken and hold onto hope.”
“I can be angry at this system and still value my spiritual connection.”
“I can feel immense doubt and still be on a journey of faith.”
Develop a Self-Support Mantra: As McBride suggests, create a personal affirmation to counter the bypassing messages. Instead of “Let go and let god,” perhaps your mantra is, “I navigate challenges with grace and self-compassion,” or “I am allowed to feel this fully.” Repeat it when you feel the pressure to suppress your experience.
You were taught that your humanity was a liability to your wholeness.
The truth is, your humanity is the very ground where inherent goodness is found.
Your tears are not a lack of faith; they are a gift.
Your anger at injustice is not what the church would call a ‘sin’; it is the echo of a an embodied heartbeat.
Your questions are not rebellion; they are the meaningful work of returning home to yourself.
Your experience is real.
Your perception is trustworthy.
Your dignity—in all its messy, embodied, human goodness—matters. Always.
This landed in my body as much as in my mind. I’ve been on the receiving end of those phrases — offered at moments when I was already raw — and I recognise that quiet confusion of thinking something is wrong with me for still hurting. What you name here helped me see that it wasn’t a failure of faith or maturity; it was my pain being met with ideology instead of presence.
The section on disembodiment feels especially true to my experience. I learned, very early, to override the signals in my body — to tighten, quiet, comply — and to mistrust what I was feeling if it didn’t match the spiritual ideal I was meant to perform. Reading this, I could feel how much damage that does over time.
I’m grateful for the care in this piece — the permission to pause, to skip, to go at our own pace. That gentleness is exactly what was missing in the environments you’re describing, and it matters more than you might realise. Thank you for naming this so clearly, and for writing in a way that honours the reality of those who have lived it.
Just bookmarked this for later!