10 Life Lessons after Church Hurt
Imagine telling your best friend of ten years that you may or may not be gay.
Just sit with this for a moment.
Picture yourself finding the courage to allow such powerful words exit your lips. Maybe you have already done a bit of self reflection. You probably have searched within your soul for years. It’s plausible you have brought your concerns to a High Power during meditation or prayer. Maybe you have not made up your mind or come to a firm decision. You have simply entertained the idea and want to share it with a person you love and trust.
Visualize yourself sitting across the dinner table preparing to spill your guts to this best friend. You hope that this conversation stays between you two due to its tender subject matter.
Finally, when the words dance on your tongue nervously as you echo the cries of your heart, imagine the relief. Feel the lifting of such a heavy burden off your back. Envision the sacred hope that stirs in your chest.
Hope that you will be seen. Heard. Acknowledged. Physically embraced.
Now in that same breath, suppose that best friend (whom you just become super vulnerable with) tells you, “If you are gay, that means you were never a Christian.”
That was my reality four years ago. The beginning of a cataclysmic event.
I left my best friend’s house that day drowning in a violent flood of tears. Not long after, a tornado of church hurt swept me up without warning as the revelation about my sexual identity conveniently made its way to the ears of the congregation. I’ve heard of other labels for this type of experience such as religious trauma or spiritual abuse. Call it what you want, but darkness was my friend.
Overwhelmed by the massive waves of post-traumatic stress, I voluntarily left the church months later. I exited the first faith community I joined; my first exposure to Jesus, Christianity, evangelism, church planting. And there I sat in the debris leftover from the catastrophe.
So what do I do now?
I could bash this church if I wanted. I could say their name and unmask their irrational church discipline, public humiliation stunts, and lack of genuine care for it members. But what would I truly gain?
I could let my hurt get a foothold. I could choose to live inside my depression. I could allow the spiritual abuse to imprison me until my last breath. But what would I truly gain from this?
There must be another way. After four years of fighting and fleeing, I am making conscious decision to testify from a healed place. I am making an effort to a be source of encouragement for those who have gone through it, are going through it, or on the cusp of a similar disaster.
Truthfully, I don’t know who’s reading this. I’m not sure if you ever disclosed your sexuality or mental health issues to someone in a religious setting. I don’t know if you ever experienced spiritual abuse. I’m not certain you ever considered leaving a church. I’m not sure if you are grieving the loss of brothers and sisters in a faith community. I only know this is difficult and painful. And in my own journey, I have learned a few things along the way:
1. I am allowed a change of heart.
I am an adult who has the right to take a new approach to life. I can change my mind or deconstruct my current beliefs if I please. There is nothing wrong that. Even the brain itself changes and adapts on its own as we have new experiences. If am desiring to see life in a different way, then I am doing a new thing and life will spring from it.
2. I can question God.
Complaining, wondering, and petitioning are human responses to any type of struggle or spiritual trauma. Questioning creates an honest conversation with God and others. It shatters the misconception of a pretty prayer life.
3. I can express “negative” emotions without shame.
It’s not a sin to experience anxiety, depression, and anger as these are natural bodily responses to trauma. These strong emotions share the same neural pathways as physical pain which means when they are experienced, it actually hurts.
4. I can make mistakes.
As a human being, I am going to make choices that I may regret. However, I must be gracious to myself instead of believing my decisions that were unfruitful make up the totality of my person.
5. I can pause spiritual disciplines.
Some practices such as reading scriptures, attending worship services, meditating, and even hearing certain music can bring about triggers of adverse religious experiences. No matter how counterintuitive it sounds, spiritual activities can be unsafe to someone who’s been through a traumatic event involving religion.
6. I accept being misunderstood.
Passive listeners are not willing to learn about my feelings or perspectives. I am okay with their disappointment, disapproval, and rejection because they only listen in order to respond.
7. I’m not wearing spiritual band-aids anymore.
It has always been a healthy practice for me to give praise for any progress made on my personal spiritual journey. But part of maturing is taking stock of good and bad. My church hurt experience forced me to acknowledge how my growth has been hindered by the church.
8. Trauma-informed therapy was worth it.
I desired to have a level-headed perspective on religious trauma and my post-traumatic stress. Therefore, I looked into EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) therapy. This approach which includes culturally responsive professionals specifically focuses on how traumatic events effect a person’s development. The work I completed was transformative.
9. I am not a diagnosis.
Any mental conditions I have only describe a limitation that is attached to my mind and body. Diagnoses and medications do not define who I am as a person whatsoever.
10. My healing has its own timeline.
Most important of all, I let healing take place at its own necessary pace. I am a complex human with complex experiences so I have complex issues. It is not fair to give myself a deadline to recuperate.
Not everyone has my personal experience. But regardless of a person’s struggle, our emotional, physical, and relational needs are just as important as our spiritual needs. If a church’s theology takes precedence over a person’s livelihood, then that church has a fundamental problem which will not be resolved in a bible study. Spiritual abuse is very real and causes a unique type of post-traumatic stress. I hope at least one of the personal lessons I’ve learned will encourage someone today. Someone who doesn’t have any fight left. If that someone is you, I want to affirm that you deserve dignity and respect. You deserve to be seen. Heard. Acknowledged. Embraced.
Take care of yourself.
Love,
Devans