When your trauma goes to church, things can sometimes get dicey. This is a picture of me and my sweet Maltese-Poodle mix named Aspen. She’s 12 years old and a rock-solid member of my family. When I leave the house, though, I leave her at home. She has a crate and a bed that is comfortable for her. I used to take her to the church office when she was a puppy, but I’ve never taken her to a church service. We allow service dogs for people who need one. Aspen isn’t a service dog, so I can’t bring her to church. I’ll tell you what you can – and do – get to bring to church every time you attend;
You bring your whole self with you to church, even your trauma.
I am a huge fan of the arts. I love to go to Orchestra Hall in Detroit to listen to the world-famous Detroit Symphony Orchestra. I feel the same about art and history museums, outdoor music festivals, or a James Taylor concert. The most intriguing, though, are plays, whether it’s Showboat, My Fair Lady, or Hamilton. I say intriguing because whenever I go to a stage play or a musical, it seems I bring my whole self into the experience. The same is true when I read a captivating story or see a particularly meaningful movie. As I sit, taking in the characters, the set, and the story, I wonder what I might have done in the same situation. I ask myself, how would I behave, given my life experiences? The same is true on Sunday. You bring your whole self with you to church, even your trauma.
As a musician and worship leader, I am moved when I hear a familiar song. My heart feels lighter, and at times I weep. But hearing a well-delivered sermon causes me to imagine standing among the Bible characters. Most people wonder what they might have done in that situation. For instance, how would you respond if you were Moses at the Red Sea with the Pharaoh hot on your heels and nothing but a stick in your hand and a promise in your heart? These vicarious situations are meant to help us grow in empathy and understanding. As a result, we come away from the performance, or in this case, the worship service, richer for having been there. A sermon might remind you of painful experiences but can also bring comfort.
Nobody goes through life without some trauma.
Some people cope pretty well, depending on their support group and the severity of their experience. Unfortunately, others experience long-lasting effects from the trauma they endured. Our genetic makeup, the nature of our upbringing, and our physiology all affect how we respond. By now, you probably know the difference between trauma (a severely distressing event) – and PTSD – (disordered thinking that lingers after the traumatic event).
Even pastors face trauma.
Even pastors face trauma and must discuss it for the same reasons as everyone else. Pastoring a church is hard work. There are too many expectations of pastors. Some come from the congregation or church board, but most come from the pastor’s need to succeed. Not to mention that the pastor’s work is primarily spiritual and requires sensitivity. “One truth rarely discussed openly within the church is that traumatized people, as they struggle with their pain and suffering, can traumatize others.” Dabler, J. When Trauma Comes To Church. Church Leaders, (June 2017). That is why pastors and church leaders must have some education in pastoral counseling. Seminary might provide 1 or 2 classes in counseling, but not enough to engage people for the long haul it takes to get to the root of a person’s problems.
…Everyone could benefit from therapy.
I used to enjoy counseling the individuals who came to see me. I had enough training to be dangerous, matched only by my need to fix something or someone. Before long, I handed most of the pastoral counseling load to one of our church elders, better equipped for that work. But he burned out fairly quickly, too. Then, after much thought and discussion with therapists in our community, it became clear that I needed therapy. Until then, I had occasionally scratched the surface of my childhood trauma (usually following a bout of depression). The idea made sense to me, and at the same time, it scared me. I sat in the counselor’s parking lot with shaking hands and heart palpitations before driving home, telling myself I could do it alone. Days or weeks later, I would be there again, but eventually, I kept my appointment. That was a decade ago, and I am still in therapy. I think everyone could benefit from treatment.
“You cannot heal what you do not address.”
It was about then that I admitted I had no business counseling anyone. I had my own issues that needed attention. Besides, counseling traumatized people had traumatized me. In a 2019 article from the Calvin Institute of Christian Worship titled, Seven Self-Care Tips for Clergy Who Engage Trauma, Nancy Kingwood, a federal trainer on trauma-informed systems approaches, wrote the following excerpt:
“Trauma comes up to breathe in the context of worship, but leaders aren’t always prepared. When a church begins to heal itself, it’s important for leaders to acknowledge their own trauma and go through healing. You cannot heal what you do not address.” (https://worship.calvin.edu/resources/resource-library/seven-self-care-tips-for-clergy-who-engage-trauma, Nancy Kingwood, 2019)
Image Credit: Judy Dabler
During those early days of my therapy, I decided to build a professional relationship with qualified licensed counselors in my area, and who would take counseling referrals from me. Some of them were Christian counselors and some of them were not but they were all licensed and qualified. That’s when GracePointe Guidance Ministries (GGM) was born. Our mission is “To offer competent and caring professional counseling to all who ask, utilizing the most effective methods, thereby providing the most appropriate kind of help to hurting souls.” These therapists have various levels of training. Some are trained pastoral counselors. Others are State Licensed Counselors. Still, others are psychologists and psychiatrists.
As a minister and bishop, I am happy to meet with and lovingly listen to those who seek my help. I share appropriate scripture and pray with them. I intentionally keep the atmosphere pastoral. I book between 1 and 3 1-hour sessions. Then, as needed, I refer them to one of several licensed therapists within the GGM network. Sometimes, I’ll arrange an introductory meeting with the member, the counselor, and me. After introducing them, I generally leave while they complete an intake form the counselor provides. Before I go, however, I make sure to say that the things they discuss with their counselor are private and will not be shared with me or anyone else. There are four exceptions to this confidentiality agreement:
- Danger to self
- Danger to others
- Abuse of children (including use of child pornography in certain states), dependent, or elderly adults
- Current or future crime concerning the safety of others
The need to normalize our experience is strong.
To an extent, a church is a microcosm of the larger culture. If a certain percentage of people in society experience a particular type of trauma, the percentages most likely hold true in the church. Churches are a special kind of idea. They are comprised of people just like you and me. Here’s the thing; sometimes, a person who has experienced trauma doesn’t know it’s trauma. The need to normalize our experience is strong. We say, “Yes, that thing happened to me, but that happens to everybody.” Everybody wants to be normal, but here’s the shocker; there’s no such thing as normal.
But it’s hard for some people to admit they’ve had a horrible experience.
It’s true that others have gone through the same or worse, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve gone through it. Let’s use the idea of a pandemic which I proposed in the first of these articles. What if you had tested positive for Covid and you exhibited symptoms? Then what if everyone you know had Covid as well? If help were available, you would take advantage of it. I can’t imagine any reasonable person saying, “Yeah, I have Covid, but everybody does; that’s just how it is.” That makes no sense. But it’s hard for some people to admit they’ve had a horrible experience.
Men seem to be less willing to discuss trauma.
Many live in denial most of their lives. Why? Maybe they think realizing it would make them look weak. Or perhaps they are afraid of someone seeking revenge because they talked. Men seem to be less willing to discuss trauma. They sometimes wait until they can no longer cope or until their loved ones refuse to be around them. However, by no means is that only a male problem. It’s a human problem. It took me 30 years to speak the truth that I’d been sexually abused by my 18-year-old cousin when I was 5. I knew it had happened, but I assimilated it into my life, like the color of my eyes and hair. Even though I had horrible bouts of depression and anxiety, an eating disorder, facial tics, and self-harming episodes. My response was that I was just upset about something or the other. Adults usually explained it away as growing pains.
So, here we sit in church, demonstrating our so-called best life or best self. What we need to do, though, is open up before God in worship and bring him our whole selves. If not, once service is finished, you will not go home with your best self; you will go home with your unhealed authentic self. That’s why therapy is so valuable. That is also why opening up to God in worship is the spark to bring light to darkened places. Once there is light, there’s a good chance there will be healing.
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