TRIGGER Warning: The following article addresses issues related to church trauma that could be upsetting.
I’ve never seen a cobra rise up…
…in the defensive position with its tongue shooting out a line and its hood fanning left and right, but I’ve certainly felt the venomous sting spewed out from some people. I felt just as threatened at those interactions with others with my heart racing in fear and my spirit boiling with anger.
Recently, I was face-to-face with someone spewing poisonous words out of hurt, fear, and anger. The person knew just where to hit the hardest. The words activated the hurt in my most vulnerable places–the ones that had been recently wounded by deep church hurt. This person had no connection whatsoever to my experiences in the church, but the confrontation triggered memories of what our family had faced leading up to my husband’s forced resignation from his pastoral position.
The encounter with this abusive and angry person triggered something in me that released the pain again in such a way that it left me curled up on the couch with a weight pressing down on my spirit, even though it has been nearly a year since we were asked to leave our church. Through the crying, shuddering, and deep, soul-wrenching sobs I let out emotions stronger than I knew lay hidden in my soul.
But it was all very real. Once the shuddering stopped, I’d drift off to sleep and wake again. Then after a few hours I’d be right back in my corner of the couch. It took more than a few episodes like that to cleanse my spirit of the anger and hurt and pain. For the time being, at least.
As I lay there, all I could picture was me climbing up into my Heavenly Father’s lap, rocking back and forth and saying “Holy Jesus, hold me.” I saw His strong arm that saves wrapped around me to shield me and to comfort and heal the wounds that the enemy had inflicted through others (See Psalm 136:11-12). The pain didn’t go away, but He was there.
Even in my despair, He was there.
Though my heart felt like it was shattered into smithereens, I knew what David said in Psalm 34:18 was true–”The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” He truly is near to the brokenhearted. But can He really heal the brokenhearted and bind up their wounds (See Psalm 147:3)? I think I am coming to that healing, but it’s a process; it does take time. And God won’t let me short circuit it. I have to go through the pain and brokenness to come out the other side. Part of that healing means to not be free from despair but to be free to despair. To acknowledge my hurt, to humbly receive God’s help and the help of others.
When I was stuck on my couch corner unable to get up because of the weight of my burden, I had to be willing to let those whom I had spent so many days holding up, hold me up. I had to admit that I was in despair, and that that was okay. God would help me. He would give me His servants on earth in the form of His true followers to carry me through.
And when I asked all the questions about the past: the elusive “why” that the human being in us has to ask, God was still there. He was assuring me that asking “why” deep from my anguished heart was a place where I found good company.
Even Jesus asked to have His cup removed.
He also still took it up. He drank up the cup of despair and traded it for the hope of resurrection.
Even among my burned and wasted landscape, the breeze of whispered hope echoed through the depths.
He said to me:
I am the resurrection and the life. (John 11:25)
I proclaim liberty to the captives and comfort all who mourn. (Isaiah 61:1)
I give a garment of praise for a faint spirit. (Isaiah 61:3).
You are my righteous plant that springs up from the ashes. (Isaiah 61:3).
Arise. Despair no more. I have overcome the grave.
Ashes and Grace
Forced to stop
Looking back
Only ashes, blown away
In one deep breath
How did we get here?
Tears trace tracks
through dust-caked face
Battle signs
Marks of grace
Where do we go now?
All the sweat, the blood, the pain
Examining each work
Wondering
Asking
Was it all for nothing?
Trudging on
Slogging through the mud of memory
Wanting to move forward
But forced to face it
Why can’t I just be healed now?
Seeing signs
Shoots of green
Beauty presses up through fire
And hope,
Are you really here?
