Spirituality in Healthcare

I was recently asked, “Gabby, what do we do when faith is such a powerful presence, and when a healthcare worker feels compelled to bring it into the room? How do we support those we work with who have strong beliefs, as well as those who don't, while still protecting the sacredness of the bedside?”

This is not a simple question, because belief can be both deeply personal and deeply influential, especially in moments of vulnerability. For many, faith is not something they put on and take off, it is woven into how they show up in the world. And finding the line between honoring that faith and honoring the person in the bed is a tender balance. Every healthcare worker walks into this work carrying something invisible. For some, it is a deeply rooted faith and devotion. For others, it can be uncertainty, or even distance. The spectrum is wide, and all of it is human.

But here is what I teach, over and over again:

What we believe is ours. What they believe is theirs.

And in healthcare, especially at the bedside, those lines matter.

I cannot tell you how many times I have heard well-meaning healthcare workers say, “I will pray for you,” or “Trust God, you will be okay.” The intention comes from a compassionate place, but intention does not erase assumption.

Spirituality in healthcare is not about bringing our faith into the room, it is about bringing our presence. It is about knowing ourselves well enough that we don’t unconsciously impose our beliefs on someone who may be questioning everything. Especially at the end of life, when fear, anger, doubt, and grief surface in raw and unpredictable ways, our role is not to correct, convince, or comfort with doctrine.

Our role is to listen. To create a space safe enough for someone to whisper, "why is this happening?" Or to be able to say, "I am afraid. I am angry. I don’t believe anymore.” And what I witness most often, is the curiosity in those last hours to days of wanting to know more, wanting to understand, asking questions about the why of it all, without having a faith background.

We are not there to answer those questions. We are there to witness them.

That kind of spiritual care requires humility. It requires restraint. It requires deep self-awareness. And yet, we must also have something that sustains us personally as well. We regularly stand at the threshold of life and death. We hold hands at last breaths. We sit in rooms heavy with goodbye. If we do not have a framework, spiritual, reflective, and grounding, that supports us, this work will hollow us out.

So yes, bring your faith. Bring your questions. Bring your grounding practices.

Just don’t place them at someone else’s bedside. Spirituality in healthcare is not about religion, it is about reverence, for the human experience unfolding in front of us.

If they ask you to pray with or for them, step forward gently, you have been invited. But until that moment, let your faith steady your hands, not your words. Let it guide your compassion, not the direction of the room. We are guests in sacred spaces that belong to someone else’s story. Our responsibility is not to lead the spiritual narrative, but to protect it, and to wait until we are welcomed into it.

And if we are asked to pray but do not know how… if we are met with spiritual questions that stretch beyond our own understanding… that, too, is sacred information. It is not a failure to admit we are not the right person for that moment.

I have learned in this work when to step forward and when to step back. Sometimes the most compassionate response is to gently place those fears, those questions, and those uncertainties into the hands of someone trained to hold them, a hospice chaplain, or someone whose calling is spiritual guidance.

Not every role belongs to us, and recognizing that is part of honoring those in the bed, as well as those at the bedside.

xo

Gabby