Being Silenced is a Form of Religious Trauma
First in a Series on how church cultures can prevent survivors from healing.
It is possible—but unlikely—that you have heard someone in a church* say, “You should never talk about your story of abuse.” I am sure it has happened somewhere, but saying it that bluntly is not necessary. Church culture itself is very effective in silencing people.
In the the book, A Church Called Tov: Forming a Goodness Culture that Resists Abuses of Power and Promotes Healing, Scot McKnight and Laura Barringer did a powerful job of explaining the harm caused by church cultures. They believe that culture can be changed, though they will tell you that it takes years and much work to do so.
A church member or even a group of members can’t create change unless the leadership chooses for that to happen. When speaking about abuse McKnight and Barringer discuss how organizations, “Focused on themselves, on their leadership, on their own self-interest. They protected the guilty, hid from accountability, and silenced the wounded.”
Those choosing to read this are most likely very familiar with the scenario the authors described. I certainly am, and was one of the wounded who was silenced. I am also aware that silencing doesn’t just come from leadership and doesn’t always look harmful. In fact, other than the clearly abusive leadership I experienced, most of the ways I was silenced were the result of well-meaning people who had embraced a church culture of positive spirituality.
A Facebook memory recently provided an example of this kind of silencing. It was one of those shared friendship memories that still delights me yet is now accompanied by a lament of loss. During that enjoyable day, I shared my desire to write my first book, Brave: A Personal Story of Healing Childhood Trauma. I was two years—and much more healing—away from publishing. but my purpose was clear—to help others heal.
My voice was almost silenced when my well-meaning friend said, “You need to stop focusing on your story and just talk about the beauty of how God is healing you. People just need to hear about healing.”
I wasn’t ready to understand or explain why this was not the plan, but I did say that I believed telling my story was important. I can’t say definitively why our friendship ended that day but it did, and not by my choice or without efforts to connect.
During healing, there are points when survivors need to share their stories in safe spaces. It is a way to break free from the hold abusers have had over them. I was probably still there when my friend said that. I no longer needed to tell my story but realized that others needed to hear it. This day almost robbed thousands from feeling seen as they read my books or listened to me speak.
Now as a podcast guest, the interviewer always begins by asking me to share some of my story. Why? Because the story is essential to the hope I am sharing. This essential part of giving hope is what church culture is missing by telling people to focus on the positive and leave the past behind—unless of course, you need to express how wretched a person you were. (More about the Religious Trauma of self-shaming in this newsletter.)
Why do churches silence the wounded? Sometimes it is because the person was wounded inside the church. In this case, leaders and church members become defensive and tell the survivor they are “harming the cause of Christ.” In this scenario, the reasons for silencing are evident.
Overt silencing is different from the covert silencing of positive spirituality. From my observations over these past few years, this type of silencing most often results when the survivor’s story makes others uncomfortable. I believe this was the case with my friend and why she walked away from the friendship. It is much easier to tell others to be positive than to do the deep work of healing the trauma from our past. I have compassion for those who cannot do this.
My life’s story is full of strategies that my small child self used to protect myself from my own story through dissociation. Much of the pressure to do so was the result of being the child of a pastor. Dissociation helped me distance myself from the pain—it helped me survive. It also helped me be accepted in church communities.
The result of the pressure to be positive, behave well, and serve was a form of dissociated spirituality that avoided deeply considering my story or the story of others. My life verse was “Think on these things…” It was a list that only included positivity. My focus on being positive probably unintentionally silenced others who needed to tell their stories. Why? Because it made my own story rumble inside of me.
Avoiding our pain is an inherent part of the church culture that silences others. For those who have experienced childhood trauma, this is a form of Religious Trauma because It prevents the very thing that is necessary for healing—telling our stories in safe spaces. The number of stories I hear of survivors telling someone their story only to be shamed or silenced by positivity is tragic. Silencing is a form of Religious Trauma.
*Author Note: I realize the word church is inadequate to describe the incredibly diverse faith communities in the United States and around the world. If what I write in these Religious Trauma newsletters is not present in your church culture, that is a blessing that does not discount the existence of church culture which is traumatizing or re-traumatizing the wounded. I believe what I write on this topic has value for reflection even if your church culture is different.