Can Discomfort Cause Religious Trauma?
Second in a Series on how church cultures can prevent survivors from healing.
Since publicly sharing my story of childhood trauma six years ago, I have observed the difference between those who have been able to hold space for me and those who instead became uncomfortable. I am using the word discomfort to describe the situation because as a verb, it implies that I am doing something to make others feel uncomfortable. That is exactly how it feels when the sharing of our survivor stories is met with uncomfortableness—as if we are discomforting them.
Here is what the Oxford Dictionary defines this: “Make (someone feel uneasy, anxious, or embarrassed.” The use in the following sentence affirms whose fault this is: "She liked to discomfort my mother by her remarks." In this form, the harm is done by the one who speaks up. This cultural idea has silenced many a survivor.
Church cultures are often discomfort-avoidant unless it is about us feeling conviction over sin. I had to spend a significant amount of time with a therapist to get over the people-pleasing need to not discomfort others. It was embedded in me. It has been so difficult to believe that someone else’s discomfort is not my fault. It says more about them and possibly their unhealed story than it does me.
Those who could sit with my story were the counterpoint to those who couldn’t. For instance, after retiring and writing Brave, a former male colleague asked me where he could locate my book—on three different occasions. On Amazon? Google my name? I want to laugh it off and yet it still stings five years later because women (or men) telling their stories of abuse discomforts people.
I imagine we probably agree that we could do better in this regard, but why is it Religious Trauma? I explain what Religious Trauma involves in this newsletter and state, “Every aspect of faith and religious life is sacred by definition—every conversation, interaction, teaching, program, or space.” When I feel as if my story causes someone discomfort within a sacred space or relationship, it is almost impossible not to internalize shame (believing there is something wrong with us). A core impact of trauma is the internalization of shame.
When I published my Brave memoirs, it was almost impossible to get male leaders to read them unless they were friends and I asked for endorsements. BLESS THEM! I realized the discomfort with my story was keeping many male ministry leaders from learning about the impact of trauma, so I invested in book coaching to write Trauma in the Pews. It was a good decision, but it did not change the fact that survivor stories seldom sit on pastor's shelves. Survivor stories discomfort ministry leaders. Do we discomfort them? That is certainly how it feels.
I was not the only one to recognize this. Gethsemane Lynn concluded her review of Trauma in the Pews with the following statement:
In my opinion, only reading [Trauma in the Pews], without knowing and understanding her life story that led her to write it, would be tragic.
I asked her to expand on this and you can find her full explanation here at my website. In summary, she stated the following reasons. I have added the importance for all survivors:
Understanding the journey’s context. It is impossible to minister to survivors of sexual abuse without listening to their stories!
Understanding the Christian Separation from Story, Empathy, and Compassion. Healing of trauma cannot happen in relationships in which survivors feel their stories are met with discomfort.
Understanding Reading the Series as Giving Audience To Her Voice. The courage and dedication to author a memoir of survival is silenced unless it is read.
Understanding Her Story--Every Story--as Sacred. It is impossible to know the depth of transformation that takes place through therapeutic healing without reading survivor’s stories. All healing is a sacred journey.
When I read what Gethsemane sent me (it is worth the read), I realized that I had almost completely removed my story from Trauma in the Pews. I diminished the discomfort in hopes that ministry leaders would read. My plan worked, but I now realize that I silenced my survivor voice in ways that were probably necessary but should not have been. Even in podcasts, I found myself dancing around my story. It is what we do in cultures where we believe we discomfort others.