spiritual bypassing
How I Learned That Maturity Looks More Like Dependence
I remember a season where my husband was having a particularly hard time with his health. He was born with a progressive lung disease that affects everyday life. People would often ask me how I was doing. It was a kind and caring question that I appreciated but one that I always struggled to answer honestly.
The truth – I was tired, I was anxious, I was worried all the time. I was carrying more responsibility than usual because my husband was, quite often, out of commission. I was always worrying about him and often overwhelmed with uncertainty about what tomorrow would bring.
Would he even make it to tomorrow?
But I felt guilty admitting any of that. I loved God, trusted Him, and knew He was faithful. I knew He was in control. I also knew there were people facing far more difficult circumstances than we were, and I was still able to do what needed to be done. So, I convinced myself that what I was carrying wasn’t significant enough to talk about. If I was still functioning, then surely I should be able to handle it. As a result, I felt guilty asking for prayer, asking for help, or even admitting I was struggling.
Looking back, I wasn’t just carrying a burden. I was carrying the belief that I shouldn’t need help with it.
Spiritual bypassing is a relatively new term for me, but the concept felt familiar. It’s when we use spiritual language or spiritual truths to avoid dealing honestly with what is really going on in our hearts. When I first heard it, I assumed it referred to people who used Bible verses to dismiss pain or avoid difficult realities. But now I realize that it can be more subtle than that. Sometimes spiritual bypassing isn’t about denying reality. It’s about quietly dismissing our own need for help. That’s what it looked like for me.
Spiritual bypassing is when we use spiritual language or spiritual truths to avoid dealing honestly with what is really going on in our hearts.
It looked like convincing myself that what I was walking through wasn’t significant enough to talk about or ask others to carry with me. I compared my struggles to those of others and decided mine didn’t matter. Instead of acknowledging the weight I was carrying, I minimized it. In the process, I kept parts of my heart hidden from others and even from God. I quietly took on burdens that I was never meant to bear alone.
Underneath all of that was a lie that had taken root. At some point, I began believing that mature Christians shouldn’t be affected by hard things the way everyone else is. I never would have said it out loud, but it shaped the way I responded to difficulty. I expected myself to be strong, resilient, and full of faith. Over time, I began to equate needing support with spiritual weakness.
When we start believing that needing help is somehow a failure, we stop talking about our needs. We carry things quietly and we tell ourselves we’re fine. But when I look at Scripture, I don’t see people who were unaffected by hardship.
David poured out his emotions before God in the Psalms. Grief, fear, confusion, anger, and disappointment all found their way into his prayers. Elijah became so exhausted and discouraged that he wanted to quit. God didn’t shame him for his weakness but met him in it. Paul asked believers to pray for him repeatedly. He wasn’t afraid to acknowledge weakness, hardship, or need.
And then there’s Jesus. He stood at the tomb of Lazarus and wept. He told his closest friends in the Garden of Gethsemane that His soul was overwhelmed with sorrow and invited them into that moment with Him. He wasn’t pretending He was unaffected or hiding His pain. Instead, He brought His need into the open and invited others to stay with Him in it.
If Jesus wasn’t ashamed of His need, why am I?
What I see throughout Scripture isn’t people who needed less from God. It’s people who weren’t afraid to bring their need to Him.
What I see throughout Scripture isn’t people who needed less from God. It’s people who weren’t afraid to bring their need to Him.
The irony is that Christianity begins with an admission of need. We come to Jesus because we recognize we cannot save ourselves. We need grace and forgiveness. We need a Savior. Yet our need for God’s grace doesn’t end when we become Christians.
When Paul pleaded with God to remove the thorn in his flesh, God’s response wasn’t, “You should be able to handle this” or “You shouldn’t need help.” Instead, He said, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."
God’s power is not displayed through our ability to hold everything together. It is displayed when we bring our weakness to Him.
For a long time, I thought spiritual maturity meant needing less from others. What God has taught me is that maturity looks like dependence on His grace, His strength, and the people that He has placed around us. Faith doesn’t eliminate our need. It gives us the freedom to bring that need honestly before God and others.
Have you ever believed that needing help was a sign of spiritual weakness?
What burden have you been carrying alone that God may be inviting you to share with Him and with others?
