Dear Christians,
This post in all sorts of variations has been simmering at the back of my mind for a while. Today I'm finally sitting down to write it, but am finding that I'm having trouble coming up with where to start. So maybe I will start with this:
I am not "anti-church." I attend church. I love my church. And I have had Christians in churches I have been a part of love on me as no one else has.
But I have also been hurt by churches. I've seen the damage that can be done by insecure leaders. I've seen (and had to deal with) the hurt and trauma caused by unbiblical teaching. And I have talked to a lot of people who have had to deal with similar (and far worse) trauma than I have.
Just over a week ago, my sister sent me a text. All it read was, "Did you hear about Ravi Zacharias?" At that point I hadn't, but as soon as I read her message, my heart sank. The thoughts racing through my head mainly consisted of Another leader? Sure enough, a quick search revealed the truth slowly coming to the surface surrounding the abuse suffered by many at Zacharias' hands.
One thing I have found interesting in the wake of this is the number of people I have talked to who have been able to address and share some of the trauma they have suffered at the hands of the church. Whether it was how sex was taught, how male-female relationships were dealt with, or that you should never ask questions, there have been a lot of people sharing a lot of hurt.
My own hurt has been varied, and I honestly feel like I came out relatively unscathed compared to so many I know. I spent a long time feeling like my value rested only in my relationship status. The older I got and the more single I was, the less I felt like I was valued and belonged. I felt like the most important part of me was my virginity. It was implied that anything I prayed for would happen as long as I had enough faith (which meant when things didn't happen, I felt like I was an awful Christian who just didn't have enough faith). When people I loved took a Biblical approach to conflict, I watched church leadership strike back because they were insecure. I listened to Scripture being twisted so that sermons were not used to teach about the Bible, but instead to pat a pastor's back and to point to all the things he had done right. I listened to sermons on unbelief and questioning, where people were told to just not question and to just believe. I felt stupid and like a bad Christian because I thought dating sounded like fun and I couldn't wait to get to do it (which meant the fact that I didn't get my first boyfriend until I was 20 made me feel like maybe God was punishing me because of my views).
And a lot of people have shared similar experiences, as well as other ones. I'm not surprised by any of this. The church is made up of imperfect people, and as such it has a long history of causing hurt and pain and devastation in the name of holiness (Crusades, Inquisition, Residential Schools, etc). People are imperfect, and so it makes complete sense that they will screw up.
But today I read something that made me view this from another perspective. I watched as someone shared their experience of trauma from growing up in the church, but this was someone younger than me who I had been in a position of authority over. And as she shared her experiences, all I could pray was, "Dear God... what hurt and trauma have I caused? What faulty teachings did I perpetuate that in turn led to someone else suffering?" I used to be a youth leader. I was a young adults leader. I have been a teacher for several years. I've been in authority within the church.
So right now, if you are reading this and you are someone who was hurt by me, I am so sorry. I am so sorry I caused you pain and trauma.
Christians, there is a lot coming out now. A lot of people are feeling the freedom to share their hurts and experiences. I'm going to ask something of you, and it will be hard. But please listen.
Don't get defensive.
You will want to. You will want to show all the ways you didn't perpetuate bad teachings. You will want to show that your intentions were good, that you were not trying to cause pain but that you genuinely cared and thought you were doing right.
But please don't.
Because your intentions don't matter. My intentions don't matter. Our intentions don't matter.
If people were hurt, then they were hurt. You justifying yours or the church's motives is not going to help heal them. But what will help is acknowledging that their pain is real.
At a time when I was incredibly bitter toward the church, two women in leadership stood in the gap. They were from a completely different church and they had caused me no pain. But they stood in the gap. They listened to my story. The acknowledged my story. And on behalf of church leaders, they apologized for hurting me. When I close my eyes, I can still see myself sitting in a chair in their home, crying as they not only listened and acknowledged, but also as they didn't try to justify away my hurt.
And so, Christians, despite feeling like you didn't do anything, despite wanting to defend yourself and the church, please don't. Please take the time and the energy to listen. To acknowledge. And through that, to show how a group who, despite being imperfect, can work to reflect Christ's love.
