Hiding behind your theology, a spiritual lobotomy for “false peace”

I have been found often to be what I describe as “hiding behind” my theology. That is to say, that instead of truly dealing with Jesus in the areas of my life that are difficult, such as the recurring disappointment or emotional pain of a relationship, I claim God’s sovereignty in the situation, as to avoid dealing with Him and the obvious tension and suffering that stems from my assumption that He is somehow unable to handle the depth of emotions (anger and sorrow) that I could possibly bring to Him. And if I were to bring them to him, instead of a safe-mouthed heart of undying devotion, he would certainly only ordain more of the same suffering that I am experiencing instead of comforting me by enter into my pain.

Dan Allender in his book “To Be Told” speaks of this hiding as a sort of “spiritual lobotomy” that gives us the control to remove the immediate tension of the situation, but rarely leads to healing or any sort of lasting peace. It is often times this suffering, and even wrestling with Jesus in the midst of the pain and disappointment, which can lead to true healing.

Allendar states “remove anguish and you remove mercy. Erase anger and you erase a hunger for justice. Jesus doesn’t take away anguish and anger; he transforms heartache into passion and anger into righteous defiance. Instead of shelving these unsavory emotions Jesus transforms them.” He goes on to state, “to loose anguish is to be one step closer to robotic inhumanity, as if such a spiritual lobotomy could make a person happier.” Finally he asserts that such a spiritual lobotomy leads to using “Jesus to deflect the pain of our stories.”

The invitation from Jesus is not to use him to deflect, but to go with Him, to the very center of our pain and begin to heal. When we hide behind our theology, often times we are operating out of self-protection and distancing ourselves from the very person who can heal us. Our theology should serve as a bridge to relationally connect us with Jesus rather than a wall to protect us from dealing with Him. So why would we choose the wall?

Control. We would rather have a “false peace” that comes from our “apparent” control than deal with the fact that God is really the one who is in control and we are mad about how he is “choosing” to allow for our suffering. Allendar puts it like this; “what do we want most; God or the hollow peace of our own control?” Even my belief of God’s sovereignty can be a control issue for me if my belief in his sovereignty keeps me from having to deal with him relationally. The result is what Alledar describes as “robotic inhumanity.” Unable to handle the depth of our emotions, God is reduced from the great lover of our souls and the redeemer of all things, to a narrow-minded behavioral scorekeeper, and we in turn forfeit our image-bearing humanity and freedom to feel, for a slave like existence that keeps us from ever functionally experiencing God as anything more than a semi-benevolent, temperamental being that “endures” us.

So how do I stop from hiding behind my theology? How do I opt for not self-inflicting a spiritual lobotomy that leads to relational disconnect with God?

Hosea 2: 14- 16 "Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her. 15 There I will give her back her vineyards, and will make the Valley of Achor a door of hope. There she will sing as in the days of her youth, 
as in the day she came up out of Egypt. 16 "In that day," declares the LORD, "you will call me 'my husband'; you will no longer call me 'my master.

Anchor is translated trouble; “the valley of Anchor, a door of hope.” It is in the valley of trouble, that hope begins to burst forth. We don’t run from the desert, but receive it, as a door to hope, healing, and relationally to God himself. It is our absolute commitment to mountain top living in our culture that keeps us from experiencing the healing that is only found in the long walk through the valley, with the Lord (Psalm 23).

We stop hiding when we receive the “alluring” of the Lord in the desert, that he may speak tenderly to us, and comfort our pain. We spend so much time trying to get out of the desert, thinking that only if we are in a good place, happy and content with the Lord, that he will be tender toward us, when often times he is the one authoring, through the allowance of the desert times, to create the kind of fertile ground in our hearts, for willingness to be present enough, for us to allow him enter in and begin to heal us (psalm 42:7).

The relationship moves only from slave and master, to bride and husband, when the valley of trouble, by his grace, becomes a door of hope. If every time trouble comes, to deal with it, I must hide part of myself, lasting peace cannot be tasted, and the “hollow peace of our control” is in all it’s falsity, further perpetuated.