Good Things Can Still Grow

Recently, I’ve been having a lot of conversations with my friends who have experienced trauma and hurt within the church. As I have been on my own healing journey, creating space for each other to open up about it has been necessary for the process of growth, because no matter the many months or years that have passed by since the moment of trauma occurred, there are still a lot of painful, ongoing moments that cause spiritual, mental, & physical turmoil when recovering from church hurt. Even if you are genuinely in a better, safer environment. So many people don’t realize that when you experience hurt and trauma within the church, showing up is often the best you can do. Showing up to attend service. Showing up to serve. Showing up to the community. Showing up online. The act of showing up is an excruciating part of healing, because often the part of the church experience that used to be enjoyed and normal, has now become a reminder of betrayal and confusion. Nevertheless, the step of showing up is so freaking hard, but it is vital.

There was a long time when the hurt was so raw and open for me that the grief I was processing over my own experience with church trauma severely lacked hope. In the past when I’ve encountered imperfections with the systems and saints I had served with, as we always do and always will at some point, I felt a sense of peace, hope, and longing for what God originally intended for His people and Church. I had unexplainable confidence that the heart of God is not what I would always experience through His people, and I had fully accepted that. With that, I had also found ways to recover and better my own behavior to control what I could in potential future situations. But this time, it was different. This time, it was out of my control. My best efforts did not change what was unfolding around me. My body had memorized feelings of tension. My stomach was in a constant dropping-state, constantly swallowing tears I never thought I would have to cry. My mind was replaying the words spoken to me by someone I trusted and respected. But this time, the replaying of words wouldn’t end. I couldn’t pray it away. It was all-consuming. Nesting within me. This time, I felt wronged. And I was wronged. Everything I thought I believed about the Church, everything I called “home”, the people I had considered safe…years of dedication, growing up under the roof of the church I held so dearly, the church I had prepared to give up everything for, it was devastated with a few single sentences and meetings.

You may think, “Christina, this is partly your fault. You put too much hope in imperfect people.” There is a level of the idolatry of the people within the church that I needed to face in my life, definitely. But though the church is filled with imperfect humans, so is the entire world. Imperfection is not an excuse. I had experienced pain in relationships and friendships before. It’s naive to think you can go through life without experiencing it, especially within the people of God. But using “imperfection” as a cop-out to not directly acknowledge and own up to the pain you or the people you care about and oversee have caused…confessing with our brothers and sisters in Christ is an unavoidable part of healing for all parties involved. When there is no recognition of trauma or space to process mistakes and hurt in the world on its own, that in itself is difficult to recover from. But when this happens within the proclaimed safety net of gospel-oriented individuals, I believe it’s exaggerated. And when it goes ignored, we deter from the process of healing that we are so supposed to example, that God originally ordained.

There is a reason why I am telling you all of this though. Because even in light of imperfection, in light of unrecognized trauma, I believe that good things can still grow. The healing you’re longing to experience with your church, may not happen. But it can happen with THE Church. The words you’re longing to hear from those who hurt you may never be spoken but seeking help from a counselor to help you through that journey will be a piece of what you rightly long for. The practice of prayer and God’s Word may never feel the same again, but the presence of God, His Character, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, they have not been shaken and they never will be. The way you did your quiet times and Bible readings may have to forever be changed. That’s okay, and that’s normal and SO VALID. I promise you, good things can still and will still grow. Good things are still growing.

The county where I am a part of a church residency program declared church as “essential” a couple of weeks ago. This means that services can still happen in-person, as long as you remain steadfast in CDC guidelines. I am by no means an essential worker, but a part of my job now is to show up every Sunday at 6 AM, masked, sanitized, and socially distanced, to set-up the church. I live about 40 minutes away, so I usually have to get up around 4:45 AM. I would be lying if I said I enjoyed every moment of this, not only because of the time of day, not only because we are in the middle of a pandemic…but when you don’t know how you feel about the church and when you question if you could even connect with God or His people ever again at church, the LAST THING you want to do is start setting up chairs at 6 AM during the Colorado winter. I’m not sharing this with you to brag about my efforts because frankly, there have been many panic attacks, flashbacks, and crying sessions that have happened hidden in the bathroom stalls. I usually can’t sleep the night before because of how difficult it is to force my body to go somewhere it senses and expects hurt and tension. I know I’m safe with the people I’m surrounded by, but there is still a sense of waiting for it all to shatter and crumble. And if you feel this too, you are not alone. Even still. If there is one thing I have learned from this discipline of Sunday mornings, it’s that showing up matters. Even when the panic attacks happen. Even when you know you may cry. Showing up for your relationship with God is how good things still grow. Acknowledging OTHERS as they simply show up, matters. Because again, sometimes that truly is the best we can do. God still sees you. He still loves you. His heart is grieved and broken for the pain you’ve experienced. Thank Jesus that His people, though they are supposed to be reflections of Him, never will be Him. That we have full permission to accept our grief and to grieve over what God originally intended for us, but our hope was never and can never be in church.

Keep showing up. I’m showing up with you. Good things can still grow.