Untangling

 I didn't intend to write about grief here. I definitely didn't intend for there to be more than one post about it.

But, I've always sought to write here about real life & what I'm wrestling with. So, right now, that means talking about grief here.

At the beginning of this month, I came across the book I didn't know I needed. Grief isn't something new to me. I've journeyed it before. So, I had no intention of reading a book on it. I didn't figure I needed it.

I thought I knew what I was doing & how to get through it.

Then, I was in our local Christian bookstore looking at the new releases. There was a book on grief among them. In the moment I saw it, I felt like I was supposed to get it. So I did - without really checking it out first (a rare thing for me).

When I sat down to start reading it a few days later, I quickly realized it was the book I didn't know I needed. I read it twice in a week & I've gone back to parts of it multiple times since.

The book is written by someone who also lost what they thought was their dream job. Although the specific circumstances were different, there was something about how the book was written that connected things for me & gave me permission to to acknowledge that I was grieving.

The book is Grieve, Breathe, Receive by Steve Carter.

In the middle of the book, I read a quote that helped me understand what was going on.

"This is the thing about grief that few talk about - it unravels us as we untangle it, & we find ourselves grieving the loss over what we thought it would be.

We mourn our preferred future and our separation all at once.

Part of honoring what comes up when change happens is wrestling with how we thought it would be." (page 99)

This is where I made one of the most helpful realizations for my own journey. There's more than one loss with grief (something I wrote about last week).

Carter goes on to say:

"Grief is us saying, 'It's not supposed to be like this.'

But it's even more than that.

It's also the untangling that we must do as we grieve." (page 100)

We're untangling the lost of our planned or preferred future.

We're untangling ourselves from the past.

We're untangling what has happened to other relationships as a result.

And that all takes time. And it's okay that it does.

In the process, we need to allow ourselves the time & space to do so.

The Losses we Don't Talk About

 If you've ever walked through the loss of an important person in your life, then you know that we don't handle grief well as a society. It makes us uncomfortable. We often try to rush people through stages of grief, as if they are a linear process we can just move through to get past the grief.

We expect people to grieve the loss of someone. And for the firsts without that person to bring sadness or anger. We may not be completely comfortable with it, but we expect it.

But, in the last six months, I've noticed that we don't really talk much about the other losses we face. And we don't expect them to be long journeys with grief. Nor do we realize that sometimes all we see is the big loss & we don't realize the many smaller losses that are rolled up in it.

I think the best way for me to explain what I mean is going to be to share my story of the last six months.

Six months ago, I unexpectedly lost what I thought was my dream job at the time. In the days & weeks that followed people generally expected me to not be okay. But, as the months went on & I started a new job, I noticed that many people seemed to assume I would be okay now. And were generally surprised when I told them otherwise.

I have more days when I'm okay than days where I'm not now. I feel like I can genuinely enjoy things, smile, & laugh again. But, I also still have many days - sometimes one, sometimes multiple days in a row - where I'm just not okay. That's the reality of grief.

I've also discovered it's not just the loss of my job I'm grieving. It's a long list of things tied to it that I'm grieving.

I lost may of the people I had spent my days with for the better part of 17 years.

I lost the purpose that came with the work that I did.

I lost the familiarity of what I did everyday.

I lost the sense of how my work really changed the lives of people. 

I lost the security of knowing what I did.

I lost the confidence that I could do my job.

I lost the vision of what my future would look like that I had.

I lost my trust in those I work for & with.

I lost many more things than I can name right now.

And most losses, are actually a whole lot of "smaller" things rolled up into the big loss that's obvious.

But, these aren't the losses we like to acknowledge or talk about. Because they're the harder ones to walk through.

If the only loss I was dealing with was the loss of my job, then finding a new job would been all I needed to move on. It's all those little things that mean I'm still grieving.

In his book "Grieve, Breathe, Receive" Steve Carter writes:

"You don't journey through grief, you journey with grief."

Rather than looking for people to be done with grief, we need to learn how to be okay with the uncomfortableness of grief.

How do we do that?

The most helpful thing we can do, is to let people be not okay for as long as they need. And that means we need to be willing to sit with people - even when they're maybe not the most fun to be with.

And we need to remember that grief isn't linear. The commonly referred to stages of grief are helpful in describing the various ways people will feel as they journey with grief, but we can't expect people to move through them in a linear fashion or to just have those feelings come up once.

Walking with Each Other Through the Hard Times

 Who do you turn to when your world is turned upside-down? Who do you phone? Who sits with you in it?

Do you have anyone?

I've been quiet here for a while because I haven't known what to write. I've been walking through a time of my world being turned upside-down. That has made it hard to find the words for anything.

It's made me think more about the questions I asked at the start of this post.

For me, in this situation, I had family and friends I could reach out to right away for support. My Mom, my sister, & my niece showed up while I was still on the phone with them. And friends were there in words as they replied to a text message because I wasn't sure I was up for explaining to them any other way at that time. Even beyond this, people in my church family have been there since.

This is a picture of what it should look like. We weren't made to live this life alone. We were made to live it in community with people. We need people we can call on when our world is turned upside-down. People who will show up - either physically or through words - and just be with you.

The truth of my situation is that my family and friends can't fix it - though my niece would like to try. I didn't need their advice or solutions at first. I just needed them to remind me I wasn't alone. Even now, their presence & care are most important. Many have just listened & asked the questions to help me see things I wasn't seeing on my own. It's not a solution I need; it's people to walk through the uncertainty with.

This is what we all need. So, I leave you with the questions I started with.

Who do you turn to when your world is turned upside-down? Who do you phone? Who sits with you in it & lets you know you're not alone?

Don't Force Me to Share in a Group

 In our desire to develop community and get to know each other at more than a surface-level, I think we sometimes put people in an uncomfortable, often terrifying, situation. As we try to get this to happen, we can put people in a position where they feel forced to share more than they are really comfortable with sharing.

My guess is that we don't do this on purpose. It's not our plan. We're simply trying to create a way for our time together that gives every space to share.

Our default is often to go to some sort of "everyone has 2-3 minutes to share where they're at as go around the group."

Cue a wide range of emotional responses, from completely okay with that to terrified and looking for a way to leave before your turn comes. Instead of creating the connection hoped for by it, some people are instantly disconnected and may not ever return to the group.

Even for those who stay and who return, it can create have the opposite effect of creating more disconnection. Now there are things about them "out there" with that group that they're either afraid will be used against them in the future, or that they feel they have to continue to live up to forever. The forced sharing has had the effect of making them feel like they have to live up to a certain thing they shared, even if it's not true all the time.

Unless the group has been together for a long time and this type of sharing already occurs naturally, I don't think this is the best way to create what is being sought. If people are already doing it on their own, then a more formal and structured time of sharing can be beneficial - when used occasionally. 

But, if the group is newer or that level of sharing hasn't occurred before, you can do a lot of harm to the forming of the group when people are in a position where they feel forced to share things they're not ready to with that group.

There's a few things to consider with what, how, and when people share personal things with a group:

1. Trust to share personal things is earned over time. If you push this too soon, you drive people away. And, people's experience will inform when they will trust. The timing looks different for everyone and we have to allow space for that.
2. Going too deep too soon can create a false sense of knowing each other.
3. If someone feels forced to share before they're ready to, you can actually cause trauma for them. This relates to a lot of what I wrote about in my series of posts on spiritual trauma in fall 2023 (you can find those posts here). It's one of the ways that the church can do damage to people.

So, what do we do instead?

We start by creating a safe space for people to begin with trusting with very small things. Make the group a safe place to admit you had a bad day or celebrate something - with no need for a lot of details to be shared.

Over time, you can slowly go deeper by asking questions that prompt a deeper discussion. Not a place where everyone has to share, but questions that invite people to participate and share as much or as little as they are comfortable with.

Seeing People as God Sees Them

 What do you see when you past an unhoused person in your community?

Who do you see in the people involved in the drug deal you saw happen across the parking lot?

Do you try to ignore or walk more quickly past the person doing drugs on the sidewalk?

How do you react when someone whose behaviour doesn't fall in the boxes of what's normal walks into the space you are in?

I've had a few conversations recently that made me think about questions like these. They're not easy questions to think about or answer.

We all have an initial reaction. And I would guess that for most of us, it's a pretty judgemental response. Even as someone who works at an organization where we interact with those who are unhoused, people struggling with addiction and mental health challenges, and those whose lives don't fall within society's norms, I can be pretty quickly judgemental of what I see.

But, God is gracious enough to remind me that every person I see, no matter what their life looks like has value and is loved and is far more than what others see.

He reminds me as I hand a cheque to someone I grew up with, knowing they're going to go straight to the cheque-cashing place down the block to cash it to buy drugs. The money belongs to this person, so I have to give it to them. As I do, I remember how they found the humor and made everyone laugh all the time growing up.

God reminds me as I run into someone else I grew up with and they thank me for how I handled our last interaction. The last time I saw them they were very drunk and stumbling. I didn't push them away; instead, I wrapped my arms around them in a hug as they fell towards me. They didn't remember our conversation from that day, but they remembered that I put my plans aside and grabbed a couple coffees and sat with them while we waited for a safe ride home for them.

I didn't see in the moment of these situations how God was gracious to me in them. If you'd asked me at the time, I would have told you that I wished they hadn't happened. But, in the last few years, I've become incredibly grateful for these interactions, because they've taught me a life-changing lesson.

Genesis 1:26-27 says:

"Then God said, 'Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness' . . .So God created mankind in His own image, in the image of God He created them."

All of humanity is created in the image of God. It's part of our DNA. It's part of who we are.

The fall has buried that. It's difficult to see in probably most of the people you see on a daily basis. But it changes everything when we remember that.

These two people I grew up with were created in the image of God and they're loved by God.

The person who is unhoused is created in the image of God and they're loved by God.

The people involved in the drug deal are created in the image of God and they're loved by God.

The person struggling with addiction is created in the image of God and they're loved by God.

The person whose behaviour doesn't fit in is created in the image of God and they're loved by God.

When I remind myself that every single person I see in a day is created in the image of God and loved by God, it changes my thoughts and, as a result, it changes my actions. I don't look at certain people with disgust; I see them with compassion and love, as people who are worthy of respect simply because they're people created in the image of God and loved by God. I no longer wish harsh realities or death on people.

Instead of seeing the things that are easy to judge people for, I begin to look for glimpses of who God created them to be and call them out in them- even as they struggle and circumstances may not change.

So, I leave you with the question I'm continuing to wrestle with: How would you see and treat people, who you normally judge, differently if you reminded yourself that everyone is created in the image of God and loved by God?

Faithful & Disappointed

 Sometimes it's easy to rush past the first chapter of Luke to get to the "Christmas story," but I've discovered some amazing things in Luke 1:1-25 as I've spent time there first. The story of Zechariah & Elizabeth, & the miraculous birth that would also be their story.

Zechariah & Elizabeth were both descendants of priests. At the time of what is written in Luke 1, Zechariah's division of priests was on duty at the temple.

Luke 1:6-7 says this about them:

"Both of them were righteous in the sight of God, observing all the Lord's commands and decrees blamelessly. But they were childless because Elizabeth was not able to conceive, and they were both very old."

In a couple of verses, Luke gets right to the heart of who Zechariah & Elizabeth are. After a little biographical information, we hear about their faithfulness to God and their biggest struggle.

Zechariah & Elizabeth were faithful to God. They served and obeyed Him. And they did all of this while also being disappointed. It was very hard that Elizabeth had been unable to conceive in their culture.

Faithful and disappointed.

Those words don't seem to go together at first glance, but I think they're apt descriptors of how many of us live. We're doing our best to be faithful to God, yet there's something that we're still waiting and hoping for - something we're disappointed about.

We continue on faithfully following God, but there's something we keep wondering if it will ever happen. We struggle to hold onto hope about it, because circumstances say it's probably not possible now. So our faithfulness is tinged with disappointment.

A few verses later, we see God show up in Zechariah's disappointment. It's not so much about what he was told would happen - although it's amazing - as it is about what the angel said to him first that I want to pay attention to.

"But the angel said to him, 'Do not be afraid Zechariah; your prayer has been heard'." (Luke 1:13a)

It's so often the case that when we're disappointed, we begin to fear that God isn't hearing our prayers. The angel reminds Zechariah that God has heard his prayers. That he doesn't have to fear or wonder if God has heard him.

Where are you wrestling with disappointment in your life?

How can you continually be faithful to God, even in the midst of your disappointment?

"A Holly, Jolly Christmas"

 I was listening to one of my Christmas albums as I drove home from errands a couple of days ago. The lyrics to one of the songs made me stop and think a bit. 

"Have a holly, jolly Christmas, 

It's the best time of the year

Now I don't know if there'll be snow

But have a cup of cheer.

. . .

Have a holly, jolly Christmas

And in case you didn't hear

Oh, by golly

Have a holly, jolly Christmas this year."

It's a fun song. There's nothing wrong with it, in terms of what it says.

But, as I listened, I realized this was the first time in a few years that I hadn't skipped over the song as soon as it started. A "holly, jolly Christmas" was not something I felt was possible the last few years. I was still grieving the loss of my Grandma, and Christmas was full of things that reminded me of her. Christmas was hard, and while there were really good moments, it was definitely not a "holly, jolly Christmas."

As I kept listening to the song, I started to reflect on how many of our Christmas songs are all about having a great time, about laughter, about joy. There's nothing wrong with any of that. Those are good things and the songs are good.

And we argue about whether we should wish someone a "merry Christmas" or "happy holidays" or something along those lines. But, the sentiment of what we argue about saying is all the same thing to people. They're about joy and happiness and good times.

Except that's not the reality of a lot of people. Life isn't full of joy and happiness. It's hard. It's painful. It's messy. There's family conflict, and serious illness, and loss that are part of it. And, the Christmas season doesn't remove those things or suddenly make them easier. Often, it actually makes them more difficult.

And, as I reflect on the original Christmas story, I wonder if our focus on the joy and happiness to the exclusion of everything else, is a bit misplaced. Things were not easy for God's people at the time that Jesus came. They were living under the control of the Roman empire. They lived in poverty and oppression. This is what Jesus was born into.

Yes, Mary and Joseph trusted God and moved forward with the parts He had given them in His plan. Yes, the shepherds came and worshipped and shared the news as they left. Yes, the wise men came from the faraway land with gifts to worship Jesus the King.

But, Jesus coming didn't erase the other facts of their lives. Jesus coming didn't mean that they weren't still living under the rule of the Roman empire. 

Jesus entered into the pain of the people. He met them in it. We see that all through His ministry in the gospels. 

And, maybe we can being to do that. We can worship in the midst of the pain and the struggle. We can see all that Jesus coming brought, without having to pretend to be happy, or that our hard circumstances don't exist.

Alongside the songs about having "a holly, jolly Christmas" we can have the lament. The cries of pain. The cries of "Come Thou Long Expected Jesus." Neither one option or the other is adequate on it's own. We need them both alongside each other. 

And we need to allow both the joy and lament at this time of year. It's not a merry Christmas for everyone, and that's okay. We can and should allow for all that comes with this time of year.

People Are Complex

Today was a day where I got unexpected, yet somewhat expected news, about someone I grew up with. Not, the kind of news you want to get about someone and the end of their life.

I wasn't surprised that things came to this. But, I also wasn't prepared for it to come to this.

It's made me think about how people are complex beings. And that makes relationships complex things.

This person had their challenges. They were hard to be with at times. Unpredictable. 

At the same time, underneath all the pain in their life, they had a heart of gold. They cared about the people around them, even if they had a difficult time expressing it or acting like it at times.

Isn't that true of so many people?

Even if there are challenges and difficulties in our relationships with them, there's often also good things in those same relationships.

I'm not talking about relationships where it's dangerous to be with them. That's different.

But, when that's not the case, we live with these complex situations all the time.

I'm honestly not sure how to wrap this up today. These are the thoughts running through my mind as the reality of this news sinks in.

The Problem of 90s Purity Culture

 If you grew up in church youth groups in the 90s, then the title of this post tells you a lot what I'm going to talk about today. But, for those of you who don't know, I'll start with a bit of a summary.

The 90s was when the "True Love Waits" movement. complete with signing pledge cards and purity rings was in full swing. While the message of what the Bible says about how we should love with our sexuality was well-intentioned, it was carried to an extreme that caused harm and hurt to a lot of those who grew up in it.

As part of trying to get teenagers to understand what happens when you go outside of God's plan for our sexuality, the example of pulling tape apart after you stuck it together was often use. While it is true that God has good reason for the way He instructs us to handle our sexuality in Scripture, and we can live with the consequences of our choices, that example was harmful. In many cases, it left those listening feeling like they were forever damaged and unforgivable for things they had done.

Even for those who didn't cross those lines, there was hard, although it may not have been as immediately visible until into our adult years. In all the purity culture teaching of the 90s, there was an implication that if you follow God's plan for your sexuality as a teenager, God would reward you with marriage in your early twenties and great sex in your marriage. Neither of which were a guarantee or a reality for many.

What this purity culture teaching did was create a generation of people who were brought up afraid of experiencing God's judgement. And forever wondering if you've been good enough in this area. We keep quiet about our struggles in this area out of shame and fear of judgement.

And, if we haven't stayed on the path we were taught in youth group, we struggle to believe we can be forgiven for it. We live in defeat, condemnation, and judgement of ourselves.

The only way to bring healing to the spiritual trauma in this area for many of us is to acknowledge the pain, bring it out of the secret places, and let it be witnessed. Exactly what I've written about in previous posts on the topic of spiritual trauma.

But bring this into the open isn't easy when the teaching is ingrained in you causes shame if you've stumbled or struggled in this area. There's shame and a stigma that carries over. Speaking up and sharing personally, if at all, often comes in mumbled admissions, faltering words. And how others respond can begin the healing journey or further the wounding.

Spiritual Bypassing

Today I'm talking about an example of spiritual trauma that we easily fall into. Often we don't even know we're doing this. But, we have to be aware of it, if we're going to move forward better in this.

Spiritual bypassing is probably something we've all done at times. Often not intentionally, but we've done it nonetheless. 

What is spiritual bypassing?

"Spiritual bypassing is a way of hiding behind spirituality or spiritual practices. It prevents people from acknowledging what they are feeling and distance them from both themselves and others." (verywellmind.com, Spiritual Bypassing as a Defense Mechanism)

Okay, definition aside, what does it look like? How do we define it practically?

When we engage in spiritual bypassing we take very real emotions and struggles people are having and cover them with spiritual words about trusting God and praying more. Rather than acknowledging the pain of someone, we bury it in spiritual language.

Here's what makes this so hard: Trusting God in our struggles is important. Prayer is an important way of walking through the hard times in life. We actually need those things.

So, what's the problem?

The problem comes when we use those things to deny or repress what's really going on. When they're used to stop people from really feeling the emotions and acknowledging what's going on.

"The denial of emotion using a similar strategy or repression and spiritual bypassing, especially when well-meaning, can leave a person feeling misunderstood and like their painful emotions need to go away for them to belong, to stay connected, and to be okay. We know well by now that emotions that go unfelt do not go away. They stay there, lingering, asking to be addressed by getting louder, which can only serve to reinforce the same pattern in some situations that come up, and again they repress and deny them." (Dr. Hillary McBride, Holy/Hurt Podcast, Episode 3: Shards of Glass)

Because it too often becomes normal to us, we easily get stuck in patterns of spiritual bypassing. We don't even realize we're doing it.

Let me share an example from my own experience to illustrate this.

I've written here before about living with an anxiety disorder. Sometimes you wouldn't know and other times it's a more obvious struggle. In times when it's more difficult where I've chosen to share this struggle with someone, I've had 1 Peter 5:7 or Philippians 4:6-7 quoted to me as the solution. Or I get told I should pray more. 

These are classic examples of spiritual bypassing. Not because those Scriptures aren't good to read, or prayer is unimportant. My struggle with anxiety in the moment is responded to  as if it's something I'm doing wrong spiritually and it is solved by Scripture and prayer. No acknowledgement of the struggle I'm dealing with in that moment.

So, what should be do instead?

Take time to listen to what someone is saying. Care about them in that moment. Invite honesty about the emotions they're really dealing with. Don't just look for the Bible verse or spiritual practice you can throw at them. Sit in the discomfort that comes in life at times with the other person.

Community is Part of Healing

 ". . . the healing of trauma cannot happen without the presence of connection." (Dr. Hillary McBride, Holy/Hurt Podcast, Episode 6: Seeing & Believing)

As much as people are the source of spiritual trauma, we need people in the healing of it. This isn't easy. When people have caused our pain, we want to hide and put wall up to protect ourselves.

"The experience of being witnessed, as it turns out, is foundational to our ability to heal. We are relational. Our pain needs to be held tenderly as we speak truthfully about it. And whether we tell the story or not, or the people around us know what to do with this information or not, we all deserve spaces where we are felt, known, and trust that we are believed, even if we choose not to share." (Dr. Hillary McBride, Holy/Hurt Podcast, Episode 6: Seeing & Believing)

We don't share the story with just anyone or with everyone. We won't share the story with most people. But the community, whether inside or outside of the church, that we are surrounded with is central to healing spiritual trauma.

The pain needs to be witnessed when it is share, in whatever form that is. And, the love and support of others is needed as new ways of thinking and living are learned.

Like so much in our lives, we weren't made to and we can't get through it all on our own. We need safe people walking with us though all of it.

We Have to Break the Silence

 So much of the hurt that happens in religious contexts is kept quiet. We feel like we can't or shouldn't say anything about it - often because of exactly the teachings that brought us the pain in the first place that told us we had to keep it quiet.

"Our wounds, whatever they are, are made more powerful by the silence around them, voicelessness, at times the fear of disruption, or the internalized silencing of our voices being trapped by those with the most power, telling us not to trust what our pain told us. The naming of what has hurt us, is the very undoing of the cloak of invisibility that keeps the pain stuck. And this - the naming, the unveiling, the 'unsettling truth' as Mark Charles calls it - as painful as it is, this is central to how we heal our spiritual trauma." (Dr. Hillary McBride, Holy/Hurt Podcast, Episode 1: The House is Haunted)

I think this may be the hardest part at times. Putting words to the pain. Admitting it out loud.

But it's important and needed.

And it often just affirms what our bodies are already telling us.

"Our bodies always tells the truth. Even if we find a way to cover it up at first, the story always comes out - if not in our thoughts, or in our relationships, then always in our bodies." (Dr. Hillary McBride, Holy/Hurt Podcast, Episode 1: The House is Haunted)

But, in our silence, we've also been taught to mistrust our bodies. So we ignore what they're trying to tell us.

The healing that comes when we begin to break the silence with safe people in safe places is significant.

So, the silence must be broken. We cannot continue to live in silence about the pain that many are living with.

Even if it starts with faltering words, with unclear thoughts. As the silence is broken, healing can begin.

What is Spiritual Trauma?

 I think this question is the most important place we can begin. It's where I started my journey.

But it's also something that didn't have a simple definition, because there's not a clear, specific line that can be drawn. As I've discovered, what is a traumatic experience for one person may not be in the same way for someone else. And how traumatic an experience is can depend to a large degree on the support and reactions of others someone receives before, during, and after the experience.

Here is the best definition of spiritual trauma I found in my study:

"Spiritual trauma is described as being negatively impacted by religious teachings or ideologies. Trauma may stem from the broader faith system, such as various beliefs or ideologies. Spiritual trauma can also come from an individual within your local faith-based community, such as religious leader or a small group of people." (insessionpsych.com "What is Spiritual Trauma & How Does It Impact Me?")

As I think more about this, I begin to see the ways and places that can happen without it being intentional. In our desire to live lives of faith that are honouring to God, we make things into imperatives - things we must do - to belong, to show our obedience. And we put those who don't into categories of less than as believers, or even as outsiders until they begin to live up to our imperatives.

Let me be abundantly clear: I'm not saying that Scripture doesn't have clear teaching on how we are to live. It does and we respond to God's incredible love for us by living the way His Word outlines.

But, we get it wrong when we make these teachings about how to live and keeping them completely the mark of belonging. And shame and judge and exclude those who don't. We don't earn our standing before God or His love for us; we receive it as a gift.

What I Spent my Summer Studying

 Over the next while, I'm going to be taking things on here in a bit of a different direction than I've gone before. I spent the summer working to better understand what spiritual trauma is and how it impacts people. The next little bit of posts (I don't know how many yet) will be mu wrestling with and thoughts from what I've read and heard.

Before, I get too far into this topic, a few words about what is coming feel necessary. This isn't a light topic or something easy to read about or grasp. It's hard and it's heartbreaking. You can't dig in the topic of spiritual trauma without reading and hearing about immense pain, wounding, and heartbreak in people's lives.

I'm far from an expert on the topic. I have a business degree, not a counselling or psychology degree. The more I've dug into this over the summer, the less I've felt like I will ever really know or understand. While there's lots to be learned as fact, the reality is that this is about people's stories and experiences. And that means there's always nuance and layers to it. There's also different degrees of how it will be experienced by different people - what's a big deal to one person may not be a big deal to another person.

The first thing I realized as I dug into this is that it's far more prevalent than I thought. Because of the varying degrees of what is experienced and how different people respond to things, we can't say certain things are or aren't spiritual trauma. We also may not realize that the person sitting next to us in church is dealing with it. It often goes unmentioned, even unnoticed by people.

It's also quite possible that we've been on both side of the equation with this - especially if we've been in the church for a long time. We've experienced things that could fall within or close to the label of spiritual trauma. And, maybe even harder to face, we've possibly also been a part of it for someone else, often unintentionally.

So, with that, this is my invitation to join me on a journey. It will be wandering and hard sometimes, but I also believe hopeful. When we face the painful realities of what has happened to us, and around us, healing can begin.

As I write this, I'm also realizing I've very indebted to the Holy/Hurt podcast by Dr. Hillary McBride. It was one of the most accessible and real discussion I found on this topic.

Risking to Let Someone In

 

Clear blue skies.

Fluffy white clouds floating by.

Afternoon sun making it feel much warmer than the 30 degrees the temperature says it is.

A gentle breeze keeping almost comfortable.

The cool water of the creek flowing over our feet.

Birds chirping in the trees surrounding me.

The sound of rushing water providing the background for the chirping birds.

I honestly don't know what could be more peaceful. A respite from the busyness and stress of life. Calm in the middle of storms.

The tree across the creek from me stands tall and barren. A white pole in the midst of the lush green. From this distance I can't tell if it's dead or alive. I can get close enough to see if there are buds or signs of life.

It makes me wonder if we could say the same things about our lives.

How often do we stand alone, feeling barren, in the midst of lush life around us?

We've kept people at a distance. They can't tell if there's life in us or not. No one knows looking at us from the outside. No one gets close enough to actually see.

Unlike this tree, we make the choice to keep everybody at a distance. We build up the walls and protections to keep people from knowing what's really going on. We isolate and self-protect.

We think we're doing a good thing, but we end up actually causing ourselves harm. In our quest to look like we have it all together, we close ourselves up from what we really need. While trying to keep from getting hurt by others, we actually hurt ourselves.

So what does it look like to open up? To all others in? To allow people to see if there are signs of life?

It means taking a risk. We have to be intentional about opening up with others. And that might mean we get hurt sometimes. But, for all the times it does go well when we risk letting people in, it will be worth it to take the risk.

So, who is one person in your life you can take the risk with?

And, what is one thing you can risk sharing?

We Can't Rush Through It

 Last week I shared a picture of an Oh Henry chocolate bar on Instagram and Facebook. Someone just scrolling past may have wondered why I put a picture of a chocolate bar there.

In the words with the picture I shared the reason why. I hadn't eaten an Oh Henry bar in years, but I was looking for some chocolate and had picked one up. As I sat in my car waiting for my niece to be done so I could take her home, I ate it. The simple act of eating a chocolate bar brought back a flood of memories.

When I would golf with my Grandma, we would stop at the snack shop after the first nine holes to replenish our snacks and drinks for the second nine. Grandma always wanted the snacks to be something that provide the fuel needed. Oh Henry bars were full of peanut so it was almost always an easy sell to get one. In the heat of summer, we ate it quickly after we bought it.

So, on that day last week, as I ate an Oh Henry bar that would have melted if I didn't eat it quickly, memories of the many hours of time I spent on the golf course with my Grandma came flooding back. Those hours were times of security and peace in the midst of a world that felt anything but that.

It's been almost two years since my Grandma passed away, and many more since she was able to be the person I talked to about stuff, but in that moment last week I missed her a lot.

I missed her presence.

I missed her hugs.

I missed her smile.

I missed her laugh.

I missed the way she listened so intently when you talked to her.

I missed the wisdom she freely shared.

I missed being able to phone her and get her advice on how to lead something in a Bible study.

I missed her prayers.

The pain and sorrow of the loss is still there. It feels different than it did two years ago, but it's still there. And I'm learning that's okay. I've still lived more of my life with my Grandma in it, than I have without her. There's still a person missing in the place she once filled in my life. And I can acknowledge and feel that loss. In fact, I need to.

The challenge is that we don't like those emotions. When they came up last week, it was tempting to try to push them away. To pretend they weren't there.

We want to rush past or push down sorrow, pain, grief. We want a quick timeline for when they will be done. But, that's a problem. It's a journey that we have to walk through, however long it takes.

So, last week, I acknowledged what I was feeling. I let myself feel the sadness. And I reminded myself that it's a loss because I loved my Grandma. And I remembered how so much of what she taught me through her words and actions still lives on in me today.

It reminds me that I need to be intentional about allowing myself space. And also to allow others space for the journey they're on. We can't rush through these. We can't push them away.

The One Sunday of the Year I'm Very Tempted to Just Skip Church

 It's not very often that I'm tempted to skip church. But, there is one weekend where it becomes a serious consideration.

What Sunday is that?

Mother's Day.

And not because I have anything against the day. 

Or because I don't have a good relationship with my own mother. We have our disagreements, but, for the most part, we have a good relationship.

So, why is it a weekend I'm tempted to skip church?

Because of how Mother's Day has been handled so often in the past. Always, with really good intentions of celebrating and affirming the mothers in church that morning.

But, also, often hard for many. For those who don't have children of their own, because they've never had the chance. For those who don't have children, because they haven't been able to. For those who have lost a child. For those who didn't or don't have a good relationship with their mothers. For those who recently lost their mother.

In the process of honouring mothers on this day, there have been many times that I have been the only woman in the part of the church sanctuary I was sitting in who was still seated when they asked all the mothers in the service to stand. Or the times, a hand offering the gift that morning to the mothers there has been pulled back from me when they realize who I am.

All of those moments, painful reminders that my life doesn't look like I thought it would. That I don't have a part of my life that I thought I would by now.

And, so I'm tempted to skip church on Mother's Day. Not just choose to join online instead, but completely skip it.

So, what do we do?

I won't say we shouldn't acknowledge the mothers at church. But, we need to be creative in doing so in a way that doesn't so obviously identify who does not have children. 

Do Your Circumstances Determine How You See God?

 "We tend to judge God by our circumstances, rather than our circumstances by who we know God is."

I heard that statement recently on a podcast I was listening to. I back the podcast up a couple minutes to listen again, so I could write it down without missing a word.

Let me say it again:

"We tend to judge God by our circumstances, rather than our circumstance by who we know God is."

Now, let me ask you what you tendency is:

Do you tend to judge God by your circumstances?

Or do you judge your circumstances by who you know God is?

It you're anything like me, there's the way you want to answer this . . . the way that you know should be true, and is sometimes. But, to be honest, we also have to admit that we the other sometimes too.

And how we answer that question has major implications for how we live and how we walk through whatever circumstances we're facing.

When we judge God by our circumstances, our response to and interaction with Him changes based on what we're facing. When things are good, God is good is loves us. When our circumstances get hard or something unexpected comes, we begin to doubt God. We wonder if He loves us. We wonder if He cares. And we begin to operate as He's unjust and uncaring. We can easily get overwhelmed and give up hope.

When we look at our circumstances through the lens of who we know God is, it doesn't remove the fact that things can be hard sometimes, or that we have questions and doubts. It means that we hold on to who we know God is in the middle of those doubts and questions. We have an anchor to hold onto in the hard times.

To see our circumstances through the lens of who God is, requires that we take the time to get to know Him. To develop a relationship with Him. Something we can lean on when things are hard and questions do come.

The Silence In-Between

We have a tendency to want to jump straight from Good Friday to Resurrection Sunday.

We don't know what to do with Saturday.

We don't like Saturday.

Saturday is a day of silence. Of misunderstanding. Of confusion. Of doubt.

Even Scripture doesn't tell us anything about Saturday. Good Friday ends with Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus placing Jesus' body in a tomb (John 19:38-42). And then moves right into the account of the women coming to the tomb on Sunday and finding it empty (John 20:1-18).

Friday's despair becomes Sunday's celebration.

But, what about Saturday?

The silence doesn't mean that God wasn't still working out His plan that day. But, for Jesus' followers, the day wouldn't have been easy. Nothing was going the way they thought it should.

Confusion. Pain. Despair. Grief.

The companions of the day for many.

It's uncomfortable to sit in Saturday. So, we try to rush past it. Get through it as quickly as possible.

Bu, even though Scripture doesn't tell us explicitly of the actions of Jesus' followers on that day, we still know they walked through it. 

Saturday was the Sabbath. A day of rest. A day where they could do nothing but sit and wait and question what had happened. They had to wait until Sunday before they could do anything again.

Truthfully, Saturday is a place we often live in our everyday lives. We walk through times of pain and confusion. We have seasons when God seems silent and we wonder if He's paying attention to what's happening in our lives.

In John 20, we say what could maybe be a glimpse of what Jesus' followers did with their Saturday. Verse 19 says, "On the evening of that first day of the week, when the disciples were together . . ." 

The disciples were used to being together, eating together, doing life together. They continued to be together. They shared their experience. Instead of being alone in their confusion, pain, and grief, they were together.

So, what do we do with Saturday?

How do we handle the pain and confusion of the silence that seems to fall?

We hold to the truth that God is still working, even though we can't see it. And we hold to each other. We don't attempt tp get through it alone.

What We Really Need

 A recent Friday night involved a movie night with my sister and my niece. Even though I'm not someone who watches a lot of movies, there was something really enjoyable about settling in on the couch together with a bowl of popcorn to watch the movie.

We watched "Puss in Boots: The Last Wish". If you've watched any of the Shrek movies, then you'll be familiar with this character, who takes center stage in this movie.

Without giving away too much of the movie, it's about the pursuit of a wish and the challenges and obstacles to get there. And the people (well, fairy tale characters) along the way. As is typical for these types of movies, it's a "happily ever after" ending.

But, it was some of the things along the way that made me think. They reminded me of some very important things. That that are actually needed as we go through life and face what comes our way.

If you remember the character of Puss in Boots from the Shrek movies, you know he was very independent and claimed not to need anyone. But, this independent, push everyone away way of living has a cost. When things get hard, or there's opposition, he doesn't have anywhere or anyone to turn to - at least at first.

As I watched, I was struck by how often that is our story - how often it's my story. When things are going well, we push people away because we can do it on our own. We may not even realize we're doing so. 

And then we don't have anywhere or anyone to turn to when life gets hard. Or we do, but we're not in the habit of doing so, and it seems that much more difficult to do so. We feel like we have to keep quiet about it and keep looking like we have it all together.

Opposition comes and we're facing the battle alone.

Attacks from the enemy come and we're more susceptible because we're standing alone and exposed.

This isn't how we were meant to live. It's not what God intended.

What God created us for looks more like this:

Fear comes and we tell those walking with us. They help us walk through the fear. They encourage us, hold us up, remind us we can get through it.

Opposition comes and we have people around us who can fight for us and with us.

Attacks from the enemy come and we're protected because we stand with others. We have others around us who help protect our weak and vulnerable spots.

By the end of the movie, these lessons have been learned by Puss in Boots and the other characters along the journey. The care they have for one another is visible as they all "live happily ever after."

I know that real life doesn't always wrap up nicely like a movie, but the lesson are still the same.