Muscle Memory
After U.S. track star Gabby Thomas won the women’s 200-meter sprint at the 2024 Paris Games, the newly-minted gold medalist recounted the physical and mental groundwork that undergirded her victory: “I had known that I had prepared for that moment for years, so that wasn't just a couple days in the making. That was years of practice and training and muscle memory."
Until I joined the church choir last year, I had only heard the term “muscle memory” used in reference to athletes. During our weekly rehearsals, I now regularly hear Emily - our pastor for worship and music - employ the phrase. When Emily observes that the choir is relying on muscle memory as we sing an anthem, I know she is not talking about me. I had not sung in a church choir in nearly 30 years prior to taking a seat in this alto section. I don’t know these songs. I can’t rely on prior experience.
I have learned that sometimes muscle memory can be a hindrance for choir members who have sung an anthem repeatedly under one director. A new director may make different choices about when to carry a phrase, when to take a breath, or how long to hold a note. If a choir member is relying on muscle memory and not watching the conductor, she may find herself singing an unintended solo.
Muscle memory extends into the spiritual realm. This can be a very good thing. Whenever we face a disorienting situation, we can spiritually reorient ourselves by recalling how God has helped us in the past. Memories of God’s presence and provision, God’s guidance and goodness, can sustain us during turbulent times.
But spiritual muscle memory can also hinder us, especially if we have embraced unhelpful, hurtful ways of using spiritual language and practices to avoid processing painful emotions. This is called spiritual bypassing.
I will never forget the young woman who took a seat in my office at the addiction treatment center in Nashville one afternoon. She had scheduled this appointment seeking prayer, so invited her to share what was on her heart. As she began to recount the story of how she ended up in treatment, the young woman casually mentioned that her infant daughter had died the previous year.
“I am so sorry,” I said quietly. “That must have been incredibly painful.” A strange look crossed her face. Then she smiled.
“It’s okay!” she replied, too enthusiastically. “Now I have my own little angel in heaven looking over me!”
I wanted to scream, “No, it’s not okay! It’s not okay that your little girl died!” Of course, I didn’t say what I was thinking. I invited her to continue her story. I was, however, very concerned about her long-term well-being, since it was obvious that she had not processed this crushing loss. People with unresolved, complicated grief have a higher risk of substance abuse, and I worried that her recovery was at risk.
Often when people practice spiritual bypassing, they are attempting to suppress what they believe are “inappropriate” emotions. Phrases they have heard in church loom large, prompting them to establish unhealthy emotional boundaries: Don’t be angry. Forgive. Always be joyful. Fear not. Have faith. On the surface, these seem to be good things.
Some folks are afraid that if they give voice to their deepest feelings and darkest thoughts, other Christians will look down on them and God will judge them. I often urged clients to turn to the Psalms. The poets who penned these words held nothing back. They bared their souls, named their emotions, and lashed out at God as they cried out for help.
Sometimes when spiritual bypassing occurs, the person is attempting to protect God’s reputation. They know the situation casts God in a bad light. Surely a good God wouldn’t have allowed this to happen. They feel obligated to put a positive spin on something dreadful.
Spiritual bypassing is particularly pernicious when it is wielded against others. In her exceptional book Everything Happens for a Reason and Other Lies I’ve Loved, Kate Bowler explores the damage wrought by the American prosperity gospel, which teaches that God will give you everything you desire, if you have enough faith.
After she was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer at the age of 35, Bowler found herself on the receiving end of spiritual bypassing. Acting on spiritual muscle memory, well-meaning people offered up religious platitudes that hurt more than they helped. Perhaps they were trying to protect God. Perhaps they sought to shield themselves from her pain.
Bowler’s book includes an appendix titled “Absolutely Never Say This To People Experiencing Terrible Times: A Short List.” One of the prohibitions reminded me of my client: “God needed an angel.”
God has created each one of us with an expansive emotional range. The Creator of the universe is not threatened by our emotional honesty. We don’t have to protect God’s reputation. We can learn to hold space for those who are experiencing profound loss, those whose anger toward God is palpable.
If you have been taught that you need to carefully curate your emotions to be acceptable in God’s sight, I invite you to think again. Begin exercising new spiritual muscles. Over time, you will build muscle memory that will better equip you to run the unrelenting race of life.
INVITATION TO WONDER: How has your spiritual muscle memory helped you navigate a difficult time? When has someone offered words of spiritual consolation that actually made things worse?
