For quite a while, I had the naive assumption that when I’m doing therapy, I need to cut the ties with all that is not seen and tested, and I have to do what i know how to do best; not talk about God in the therapy room, sounds easy doesn’t it? 

Well, that worked well for the first couple of patients that I had who did not even want to bring up God in the room and that was a win-win for us. Then, during my training year, I get one remarkable patient who was mostly outrageous at how terrible his life conditions have been and how he deserves better, and that he is a good person with good intentions yet nothing good is ever happening with him! In one session, he starts quoting the Quraan saying: 

لَا يُكَلِّفُ ٱللَّهُ نَفْسًا إِلَّا وُسْعَهَا ۚ

“Allah does not charge a soul except [with that within] its capacity.” – Surah Al-Baqarah 2:286

He follows this up by saying: “But I am at my full capacity !! I cant handle anymore, can’t the god who created the heavens and the earth see that I am suffering? Why is he doing this me? Why does he hate me? I don’t deserve it!!”

Silence follows the agony that was pouring down in the form of mere anger against God, and I did not know what to do with that anger, where to tuck it, how to explore it without making him feel like I’m dismissing his intense feelings towards God, so I did what any self-respecting therapist in my position would do: I stalled and put the focus back on him until I could get some help. “That’s a good question,” I responded after a long a pause. “What do you think it means?”

Later that day I questioned the way I handled his anger outburst, reflecting on my instant deflection when religion and therapy collided as i had previously thought they’re two separate and distinct categories that do not meet under the same roof. How would I know? The textbooks that we studied from are all written by Western authors who recycled the works of earlier theorists; from Freud who believed that religion is mass delusion to his American counterparts who called for something more meaningful yet that thing was not yet clearly defined. Experiments were trendy and on the rise, and this attracted scientists back then to look into the field and bless it with the respect and status in the scientific community; making it more of a trial and error process rather than dealing with a deep and complex human being who is much more than a ring of a bill and a salivation correlation.

Then there is Carl Jung – he has always been standing out for me from the moment i was introduced to our forefathers in the field – Carl Jung was Freud’s ultimate best friend for a while, they even had matching tattoos! but at one point in time they went in separate paths and each developed their own thoughts/perspectives on the field. Carl Jung addressed the spiritual journey to wholeness, the collective unconscious which can resemble the idea of God in ones world. In one interview, he was asked if he believed in God and he said:

“I don’t believe in God, I know.”

This declaration of his believe has sparked the inner parts of me that have been yearning to see a mirage between therapy and religion, and it finally saw the light of day. 

Believing that therapy is merely a secular field is like believing that politics is objective or that art is devoid of subjectivity. Each domain, including therapy, is deeply influenced by diverse perspectives, values, and individual experiences, shaping the nuanced and multifaceted nature of its practice.

When patients enter through the doors (or the screens) they do not take off their religious hat or political hat and come in merely with one hat that is the psyche, on the contrary they come in wearing more hats than they have ever thought and it is our role to be receptive and open for exploring each with as much curiosity as we do anything else.

So what would i do differently with Adnan’s anger towards God now?

Well, that’s a good place to start. I would acknowledge this anger and make a clear statement of what I think he is experiencing, and check if that resonates. All clear so far. I would’ve wanted to resonate with his anger, give it a voice and allow him to express all the outrageous feelings and thoughts he has against the one he believes controls his destiny; as one great teacher once told me:

“People’s hearts are already broken, we don’t need to smash them”

I would question how he developed his image of God? What is his relationship with him? And how does this transactional relationship seem to work? I’m a good person so I need to get good things, how did he come to this conclusion on this transactional relationship with the lord of the worlds? How would he like to work on that relationship with God here in therapy?

These are my initial thoughts, just prospectives.

Anger against God is one of the most common forms of anger i currently see in my practice, and with time I became more skilled at maneuvering this conversation without feeling inferior or an imposter for doing this. 

What’s beautiful is the reaction i usually see when I ask the patient: “It seems like you feel that you are being treated unfairly and that you dont deserve this. So tell me, what are you angry with God about?”

The bright look that i see in their eyes, that someone out there in this globe has recognized their outrage against God, that rage that if was shared with friends or family might be taken as disbelief or rebellion against God, which is not really entirely true, I mean it could be, but we would be missing the point:

The point that people do get hurt not seeing the fruits of their actions, they might make meaning of their experiences as “God hates me and is punishing me because I’m no good”, they might feel inferior and not good enough to deserve what’s happening with them, they might feel heavy with the load of trials they’re having, and they might feel that this anger should only be internalized as if it goes out it is a declaration for leaving ones faith and going against the decree of Allah. 

All of these feeling feel too dangerous to be unleashed in a world that holds our words against us, if one mistake happens we risk our place in society and risk getting cancelled for good.

What do we do with it then? We, courageously, bring it to therapy.

So, therapy is like this welcoming space where all our feelings, even the tangled-up ones about our connection with God, can just be. Saying therapy is only secular is like missing out on how deeply our spiritual struggles shape us. Going to therapy for faith-related concerns isn’t going against beliefs; it’s more like this journey to understand, heal, and find some peace. 

By diving into all these emotions, we get to navigate through the ups and downs, rewrite our stories, and build a stronger bond with our spirituality. It’s like therapy gives us a place to untangle the messy bits, rethink things, and, in the end, find some acceptance, compassion, and a deeper connection along the way.