Category: recovery | Page 19 | Spiritual Abuse Blogs

Dear Christians: things I wish people could understand

Prov 18:14 A man’s spirit can sustain him during his illness, but who can bear a crushed spirit?

In the eight years since leaving the spiritually abusive group I was in, there is one thing I have never been asked by religious people: “What can we do?” Unfortunately, too often what I have seen is Christianity pulling away from those who are hurting, walking by on the other side of the road as they see us wounded in the ditch, so to speak. And as in the parable, it is often those who would be deemed ungodly or unChristian who get us out of the ditch, carry us to shelter, and bandage our wounds.

I’ve come to wonder if this is in part because no one in the church is trained in triage.

Have you ever hurt your foot, gone to the ER, and had the nurse start by taking your pulse and BP? There is a reason. Unless the patient is in immediate danger, it’s better to gently, slowly work toward the injury, rather than jumping right to it, watching for reactions and assessing the patient’s comfort while working. When a person is scared or nervous, it’s best to set the person at ease–jumping right in can make the situation worse, not better.

We’re not trained to do this unless we have some medical background. We may even pride ourselves on being direct. But that’s not always wisest. So what would spiritual triage look like for a wounded spirit? It would be different for each person. But the list might include:

Listen.
Be there.
Invite me to be with you.
Ask if there’s anything you can do.
Look for little ways to help.
Don’t be shocked.
Don’t apologize for what happened and do NOT excuse it.
Don’t offer pat answers… maybe don’t offer any answers.
Ask good questions.
Be sincere.
Accept me.
Care.

What else might fit on a list like this? What do you wish people had done for you or would do, or what are you glad someone did to help you in your woundedness?

Why I still want to go to church

Yeah, church is a mess. There are things that I simply can’t deal with and things that turn my stomach about church. I don’t think American concepts of church are biblical, and I think in many cases they go against what was established in the New Testament. Church today is a lot more like synagogues in the Old Testament than anything–many tend to be Pharisaical, hypocritical, and full of useless traditions and rules that place burdens on those it is meant to serve. Church too often ignores the hurting and wounded, the poor, orphans and widows. They build doctrines that are inaccurate and unbiblical and ignore the beautiful simplicity that Jesus established. They argue, dividing over the smallest things.

Why would I want to be a part of that?

Participating in church is the easiest way to connect with other believers in a face to face setting.
It can be a good place to learn or discuss or at least consider other ways of viewing Bible passages.
It is part of my faith tradition–it is something that I’ve participated in for a very long time, and I sometimes find comfort in and sometimes simply long for some of the traditions there.

It’s not a very long list.

For months I visited churches. Finally I found a decent one where I could grow. There were good things to learn and I had begun to see the Bible as safe for the first time in a long time. I even began to pray. There was always a feeling that there was a glass between me and them, that I was fully visible and could fully see them but couldn’t touch them… like they held me at arm’s length, but the other was enough.

And then the safety was gone. The sermon was wrong, the scriptures were wrong, there was no safety and only the bad memories. Where they had always been so careful to tread lightly on scriptures that might be triggering, they suddenly were the opposite. I have no idea why, and I’m tired of asking. I want the feeling of safety back, but not if it’s just a facade–it must be a truly safe place, not just a place that feels safe for a bit until it’s true nature is revealed.

Lessons From My Garden

I come from a long line of gardeners and I probably should throw in farmers too because that was a basic part of my family’s heritage. My great, great, great grandfather migrated from Wales to the States and joined the Continental Army at age 16 to fight for our Independence. After the war he crossed over the Smokey Mountains and ended up owning land in Tennessee and he started farming and raising livestock and his wife planted a garden. She called it a kitchen garden and she grew everything in it that could be served for meals and “put up” for the winter.

My great, great, great grandmother also grew flowers, planted fruit trees and basically landscaped the area around the house. Now this land in Tennessee is still in my family and cannot be sold, although my cousin is caretaker of the property no one farms it anymore but a few of the flowers still come up each year among the rock of the old landscaping. When I decided to plant a garden I journeyed down to the homestead and with the help of my great aunt dug up flowers from her gardens and also shoveled into trash bags some good rich dirt from the barns….not a pleasant smell driving home…but it would help my garden grow.

Once home the fun began and I laid out a plan for my kitchen garden and began landscaping around my home with the flowers I had dug up and adding that good rich dirt to my poor soil and before I knew it I had beautiful gardens growing. Each year I would add something new to it and enlarge them and my harvests were bountiful and lovely. My garden reached full maturity in about 5 years and it was beautiful.

Then came the flood….. in 2015 the creek flooded behind my home and washed everything away. The little decorative fencing, the shrubs I just planted and of course the flowers and good dirt and the mulch. It was all gone except for the bricks around my kitchen garden. I was heartsick and heartbroken because a lot of my plants had come from my great aunts home and she had passed away earlier that year. The flood was so bad I had to go stay with my daughter for a couple of weeks. Fortunately I lived in a mobile home and the flood took most of the skirting but it didn’t damage my home.

After the flood I decided to move to a different park to get away from the creek. I moved in January 2016 and because it was winter when I moved I couldn’t really take anything with me so come spring I had a new yard with nothing but an old tree in it. During this time I was struggling with Parkinson’s Disease and retiring out on disability from my job so my funds were rather limited. I had no idea what I could do in my yard with flowers, a few vegetables and a limited income. I didn’t even know if I wanted to bother with it again. I felt I was back in the depressive slump like when I first left the United Pentecostal Church and trying to work through the legalism and abuse.

Then I opened a box of books in my office and I saw a Bible and when I picked it up it opened to Genesis 2:8, “The Lord God planted a garden”….and His word penetrated my heart….and I knew I was going to rebuild and replant my garden even though I was still heartsick over the loss of my other garden.

I knew it was easier to quit than to commit to another plan and process but I would rebuild. Sometimes the joy of today is destroyed by the joy of the past. But I couldn’t let myself be stuck in the past. I was going to choose joy and “rejoice in the Lord always” (Phil 4:4) just as I did before.

Although it was easier to stay upset and hurt than forgive, I knew I needed to forgive the Park I moved from for refusing to pay for any of the damage that was caused by the flood….even though it was their fault by putting trees and leaves in the dry creek which caused it to channel the water straight to my home and gardens…so I forgave and moved on (Matt 5:23-24).

I chose to plan, prepare and plant passionately with the abundant life I had through Christ Jesus (John 10:10) and I worshiped God and praised Him continually as I replanted (Psalm 34:1). And God helped me with strength and finding bargains at the nurseries like never before. I continued to love my new garden and although it wasn’t as large as before it was coming together and was bringing beauty to my yard and spirit. (1 Cor 13:8).

So I did rebuild and replanted and this year I will add more and enlarge my garden and I will finish well. By not giving up or giving in to the disaster, I succeeded by perseverance and my garden grew. Just like my soul grew as I healed from spiritual abuse….and I finally found truth in Gods grace and mercy.

Romans 5:1-5 sums it up like this…”Therefore, having been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom also we have access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God. And not only that, but we also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character, and character, hope. Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us.”

Should I be afraid?

I worry that I will get caught up in something negative again if I go to church. The fact that I get excited about church, that I want to be involved, that I can throw myself into it so easily and so quickly concerns me. But should I be afraid? Should I be concerned about this?

I’ve been attending a church that I have learned and grown in. I haven’t been there long, and I do disagree with several things on some pretty deep levels. But I’ve grown. For the first time in years, I’ve found myself praying. I’ve been interested in reading about theological issues again, sometimes even the Bible. These are good things, at least for someone who wants to believe. And yet I’m scared that I’ll get caught up in something there that is not good.

I’ve been focusing, with church and faith and such, on finding a healthy place. That has evolved into finding a place where things are presented in a way that I agree with. Yet this is actually in itself not healthy. I’ve looked at churches and tried to find one that was fool-proofed safe. Yet this type of place probably doesn’t exist on earth.

Sometimes maybe it’s better to stop looking for the perfect place and the perfect people. Maybe it would be better to identify ways to counteract any unhealthy impacts of various things in life than to try to insulate myself from them. Maybe.. yes, it makes sense, but it’s not easy to decide to do. Kind of like stepping out into thin air… or onto water. But I think it’s time to try.

My Battle With Fears

I am afraid. I suppose I’ve never stopped being afraid since the night I was told I was being thrown out permanently and might not even be able to be saved. Seventeen years ago. And I’m still afraid. I can ignore the fears for awhile… as long as I’m not trying to connect in a church. But as soon as I find a church that might work, as soon as I start to feel myself starting to grow, to relax, to trust, I jerk away. I run. What if it’s not a safe place? What if it’s another unhealthy group? What if I’m missing something or deliberately overlooking something, some warning, some red flag… what if these people can’t be trusted?

I can’t very well walk into a church and say, “So, are you healthy? Are you abusive? Can I trust you?” I wish I could. But it would do no good because the unhealthy ones would lie anyway. And the others would begin wondering if they could trust me.

There are times a person has to take the risk of trusting, but to risk the kind of hurt that an entire group can inflict on one… That’s a big risk. Is it a risk worth taking? I can’t say. I haven’t been able to get past the fear to take that risk yet. I’d like to, and if the outcome is positive, it would be very worth it. So I either have to get over wanting to be part of a local group of believers or stop running away. But it’s going to be a difficult process, and I’m afraid.