out of the darkness

out of the darkness: singleness & the church, part 2

Posted on Jul 15, 2011 in church stuff, healing, out of the darkness | 8 comments

i did a series of conversations in 2009 and 2010 called out of the darkness. it had honest stories from my friends on topics that often never get talked about in church. if you didn’t read them, here they are:

one of the most popular ones was the last one, singleness and the church. this topic is getting more play these days but we still have a long way to go to really addressing the needs of single friends in church. in the refuge, a big chunk of our community is single–either never-been-married, divorced, or widowed. this is a big shift for me from years ago when we were mainly around a lot of other young-couples-with-kids, and i continue to learn how little i really know about singleness & the feelings that go along with it.

these interviews only scratch the surface, so i thought it would be good to do a part 2 on this one to flesh it out a little more. remember, this is only one person’s perspective but i think many others–both women and men–can relate in one way or another. for those of us who are married or have a partner, may we also listen well and learn. again, meet RJ, a single Christian man bravely sharing his heart:

one of the things that we touched up on in the first interview was the issue of shame around being single. shame is such a destroyer of hope and can really keep us stuck. can you flesh out a little bit more what shame looks like for you when it comes to your singleness.

Shame is such a powerful force when it infects our life. It can permeate us so much that we feel like an actual weight is tying us down and we cannot budge. For me, shame affects me in being single by making me think and feel *less than.” Many of us have been taught, especially from the Bible, that God’s intent for us was to find a soulmate to live life with *until death do us part.” Being single causes a spotlight to shine down upon me, in my own mind’s eye, and is a constant reminder that I am somehow short of God’s ideal and lack something. I feel shame more than I wish I did. Shame often pulls at me like quicksand–stuck in its grasp and infiltrating my self-talk, energy and desire to accomplish things.

there are two other powerful emotions often associated with shame–fear and anger. how do these 2 emotions play in to things for you?

Fear and anger are definitely very strong emotions and I think many singles can relate to feeling them. Fear of being unattractive, unwanted, and unlovely are some that I can relate to.. Fear causes me to shrink back and hide inside myself. Anger can be caused by many of the same issues although the result and response is to lash out and attack instead of hide. I know I often feel fear and anger when it comes to my singleness. I think the root is that thought/feeling of being valued less–whether that be that be by God, other people, or myself. What can get me intro trouble, too, if we misinterpret Scripture and the work of the Holy Spirit and have a black/white “I have to be rid of all my fear and anger before I can be worthy” type of thinking. The pathway to less fear and anger is grace and acceptance.

i think a lot of single friends doubt themselves–if i were only prettier, smarter, more this or more that, then maybe i’d find a partner. what does this look like for you?

Doubting myself is related to the shame, fear, and anger issues. Constantly wondering about my attractiveness, my personality and abilities always loom large in my imagination. I had an experience when I first started college where I was in Biology lab and somehow 3 girls ended up fighting over me, so to speak. I have always battled with feeling unattractive and unwanted by girls in any romantic or sexual way, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I dated one of them a short time, but I felt really awkward the whole time, even though on the inside i was thanking God for 3 cute girls all interested in me! I was engaged once as well, but the self-doubt remained even though i had a woman wanting to marry me. Shame and self-doubt are really tough phantoms to extinguish, even when we know they are dead-ends.

the part that often people don’t talk about surround issues of sex. what are some areas that you think need to be more openly addressed when it comes to sex and singleness?

Sex–this important word is talked about so little in church. Research and studies have shown that sexual struggles abound within the Church and it still is not an easy issue to openly discuss, although great strides have been made in the last decade. I think married couples experience a similar struggle as singles, actually. I just think singles are stigmatized more because the temptation is perceived as greater and harder to deal with. I mentioned before that as an ordained minister landing a job as a single man is nearly impossible. I think understanding boundaries is a good place to operate from in dealing with sexuality. Just what is supposedly okay and not okay. How do you handle the *heat of the moment*? I also think a very important issue in all this is the *Big M*–Masturbation. I think masturbation is one of the biggest unspoken sources of shame and guilt for so many Christian men. Having been in Bible College and Seminary and lived in dorms, I had many a conversation with other guys who expressed such self-hatred over this.

describe what it feels like when you go out on a date and early into it you know that there’s no connection. what kinds of thoughts/feelings do you experience?

Being out on a date and halfway through, suddenly red flags begin blinking and the *no connection here* alarm goes off has definitely happened to me. I often internalize it and think “What is wrong with me? Have I not talked enough, entertained enough? Am I being totally boring?” All of my insecurities run through my mind in the span of 30 seconds and I feel like someone stuck in an elevator wanting to get out. Then, in my saner moments I realize sometimes people just don’t click, and that’s okay.

in looking back at the original questions, one that really jumped out at me was balancing “longing” and “acceptance.” you shared a little bit about what that was like for you. how have you seen other single friends navigate through these two feelings?

In thinking about longing and acceptance, I see some who are able to commit their singleness over to God and not worry about it. For me, this is so much easier said than done! I know some who have spent many lonely hours longing for the *right one* to suddenly appear magically out of the sky. I know others who find contentment in being single until they die. I think a lot of it comes with letting go of expectations. Those who let others place expectations on them or do it to themselves find it harder to feel acceptance, and then the longing is painful as opposed to hopeful. I find that for me, longing and acceptance fluctuate on and off, depending on moods or certain things happening in life at the time.

what’s the most painful part about being single?

The most painful part for me is not having someone to share life with. Not having someone to express all my emotions to and receive theirs back. Not having someone to sexually enjoy in all its wonder and splendor. Feeling like other people don’t see me as a whole person because of I am still single.

what’s the best part?

For me, the best part is being able to set my own timetable for anything. I can do as I please in regards to things I like and want to do, and enjoy the company of single and married friends anytime.

* * * * *

thank you, RJ, for your honesty and for bravely sharing a little more of your feelings about being single. between the 2 interviews i think you touched on some really real & raw feelings that often don’t get talked about in church. i am so thankful for your friendship! i’d love for those of you reading–single or married–to share some of what this interview stirred up. we need to continue to get these things “out of the darkness” and into the light and live more honestly and freely in authentic community together.

out of the darkness: singleness & the church

Posted on Oct 29, 2010 in church stuff, healing, out of the darkness | 14 comments

one of my hopes on the carnival blog has always been to help people feel a little less alone on their journey, whatever that looks like. i have met so many great people along the way and am so thankful for the time you take each week to read my l-o-n-g posts. as part of the out of the darkness series, i wanted to bring the whole issue of “being single & in the church” out on the table. i have been married for 20 years and do not know what it is like personally to be single in the church; but, i have an awful lot of single friends, men & women, who are faced with the hard & sometimes lonely reality of being single among a bunch of married people. it is sometimes very painful for them, and easy for those who are married to forget what it feels like. one time someone i knew told a close friend, “you just need to let God be your husband.“ i remember getting this righteous anger on her behalf because it’s really, really easy to say that when you are married and have no clue what it feels like to go to bed alone every night.

meet “RJ.” he has never been married and been in “church” for most of his life. listen in on some of his experiences and what he is learning and struggling with along the way.

* * * * *

describe a little bit of your spiritual journey & where you are in your life right now.

I have run the gamut in my spiritual journey. I grew up a Roman Catholic Jersey boy, moved to Southern California and got involved with Calvary Chapel where both Chuck Smith & Greg Laurie were ministering at the time. I found a church right down the street from and soon joined and was baptized. I then went on to Bible College & Seminary and was ordained as a minister. I’ve had aa few bumps in the road along the way and now serve in a volunteer capacity at a small Evangelical Covenant Church. I am in a state of change right now, but it’s a good place and God continues to reveal his grace.

one of the things that so many people underestimate is just how much pressure there is for unmarried christian men and women to find partners. can you share a little bit about what your experience has been like as a single person in the church, what are some of the things you have encountered?

I have had varied experiences in the Church as a single guy. I planned on becoming a minister when i was still in high school, so I felt unstated pressure to find a wife because “ministers had to be married, so they were protected from sexual indiscretion.” That is an unwritten rule that is very prevalent. i found it hard because I had experienced a lot of rejection by girls in junior high and high school due to severe acne; plus i was very shy and awkward with girls as far as any kind of dating activities. I never had a girlfriend in high school, so i felt very vulnerable and uncomfortable with the expectation to “get with it and find a wife.” Bible College is NOT the place to be to enjoy the single life, and the pressure is turned up wayyyyyy high because many girls are facing the same if not even more pressure to get their MRS degree. A single date is a major event under those conditions. The emphasis on appearance also played a huge factor. Being a minister is a very high profile, public occupation and certain expectations of grooming are given. Because of my feelings of rejection and ridicule I think I did not pay attention to those details and that made it even harder for me. I experienced a time when one of my friends told me I needed to change my clothes and wear trendy or label clothes if I expected any girl to be interested in me. That was a real blow.

can you describe how some of these interactions make you feel?

I feel a little uneasy and put on the spot at times when interactions occur that make my singleness seem like an oddity. This was probably more so when I was younger and preparing to find a ministry position, but there are often still times when I feel an unspoken message of “will you ever find a wife?” It’s hard when that happens because I ask myself the same thing all the time, too. The part that feels bad, though, is the expectation of that being the “right” way to go.

what are some of the things that rattle around in your head about yourself being single that are sometimes hard to say out loud in church?

I am in a small church where most are married and older. For me, it’s not that hard to say “I am perfectly fine with singleness or with marrying if I find a soulmate.” The part that’s hard to talk about are the reasons people think you are single. I also think it’s hard to voice certain things in church that go beyond our comfort zones or require real effort to have to deal with. Saying out loud in church that I feel pain because of various insecurities and life experiences which hurt make me feel *stuck* as a single. It’s hard to say out loud that it feels like physical appearance issues impact being single and all that is tied into that. Talking openly about wanting to deal authentically with sexuality definitely is one of the hardest things to openly discuss, because it is such a hot button issue due to all kinds of reasons. I don’t think God sees sex as something to hide, giggle about or treat as dirty or unnatural, but as a genuine part of our being made in His Image. Being single can exacerbate handling it correctly, especially in a sensual, sex-obsessed culture of the US. I wish we had better places to talk about these sexuality issues.

shame is such a powerful weapon that we use against ourself when we feel like we aren’t where we’re “supposed to be” in life. how does shame rear it’s head for you sometimes? what helps it lose some of its power?

This question is probably the hardest hitting for me. My dad died when I was 8 years old, and I didn’t really have a male role model. I was raised by my mom; there were always a lot of women around between her, my sister, teachers, her friends, and relatives. I was always shy around girls, even before the acne hit because I was always big for my age and awkward and clumsy. I wanted to be able to have a confidence with girls that I saw in other guy, but I could not find it. That was a source of great shame. It seems in our culture attractiveness and outgoingness are highly valued, so lacking in those areas and not knowing how to break out of it definitely created a lot of shame. What seems to help a bit is reading good books or blogs or hearing teaching that focuses on grace and acceptance and unconditional love, as well as making friends with people who provide that in a real way.

if you could give “the church” some personal advice on how to respond better to unmarried friends in church, what would you say? what should they stop doing? what could they start doing?

I think one thing would be to say that accept us as we are don’t feel the need to force us into a group, hoping we will hook up and marry. Another is that we don’t all have some deep trauma or emotional problem that is keeping us single. Plenty of married folks have those, ha! I think the church does seek to reach out and provide support and minister to singles. I think it’s more individual responses that can be tough to deal with. I think the church providing a singles group as well as allowing singles to serve in whatever capacity matches their gifts is an important thing that really helps.

living in the tension of “longing” and “acceptance” is a really tricky dance. what is it like for you to live in this tension?

Longing and acceptance are two very interesting and difficult words. It is a hard tension at times, especially when surrounded by families or young couples newly married and in that *honeymoon phase.” Seeing movies that pack such an emotional wallop because they portray having a partner as making life its most fulfilled. Often I don’t have a way to live in the tension and realize that acceptance at the same time. For me personally it is tough thinking about ever marrying because I have a heart condition and limited finances, not exactly the things that say *good catch* to women. Accepting life as it is–not as I would have it–remains a constant goal that fluctuates on an ongoing basis.

can you think of some things that people have said to you that really got under your skin?

I think one would be “why is such a good guy like you not married?” it sounds like a compliment but it is really saying there must be something wrong with me. Another would be asking if I did something that just kept girls away.

can you think of some ways your faith community has really encouraged you on your journey, things they’ve said or done that really give you hope and life?

Inviting me to dinner or over to play games and just spend time socializing has been HUGE…Telling me age does not mean love cannot be found. Supporting me in various ways by encouraging and providing hope, as well as treating me like a normal person and not an oddball for being single.

what are some of the things you cry out to God about your singleness?

I cry out to God to help me not beat myself up for having always been single. I cry out that He would help me find someone I can love and love me, accepting each other as we are. I cry out that He would help me to know He understands sex drive is there even as a single and can provide the grace to handle it. I cry out for God to help me let go of the emotional scars and pain I have from way back due to feeling ugly and rejected by. I often wonder, what if Jesus was portrayed as ugly? How would we react? Would all the images be as prevalent if Jesus had an unattractive physical appearance, like many say he was? I think this theme ties in a lot for me as far as my struggle with singleness and for many others also. I have actually had a pretty normal and average physical appearance since high school, but the image in my imagination stays locked in 7th & 8th grade where on a daily basis i heard jokes, taunts and ridicule from so many kids at my school. I’m hoping others who may have gone through that and still suffer inwardly will read this and find they are not alone. I hope physical appearance by itself will not be what makes people acceptable or worthy of finding love in a marriage relationship.

what are some things happening in is season of your journey that are really surprising you?

I find the new ways I am seeing God at work and how His Word is interpreted as surprising. I am finding a great joy in serving and teaching in a small group that has all the quirks and craziness of all other groups, but seeks to pull together and move forward, growing and transforming even at an older age.

* * * * *

thanks, RJ, for sharing a piece of your heart with us. i know that i have a lot of single friends who are wrestling with many of the same feelings. i do hope that as the body of Christ we can become more and more radically inclusive and welcoming to all people in all stages and choices in life. the more we can all share in life & love together, without expectations that “there’s one right way and this is it”, the more we can grow and learn and find a wholeness that is impossible with out each other.

out of the darkness: women struggle with sexual addictions, too

Posted on Oct 25, 2010 in healing, out of the darkness | 5 comments

last summer i had a series of interviews on the carnival called “out of the darkness.“ i have been meaning to get a few more of these interviews up for a while and am finally getting around to it. if you are new here, you may have missed some of the series of interviews i’ve done. in addition to out of the darkness, there’s a series called “a view from the margins” & another is “signs of hope.” if you haven’t read them yet, they are some really beautiful stories from my friends about their journey & life & hope & story. here’s the interviews that i posted last summer in the out of the darkness series. they cover a range of topics that are often not talked openly about “in church.”

self injury
brave thoughts from a former abuser
hope & healing from sexual addiction
the lingering damage of sexual abuse
eating disorders
the A word–abortion
the untold story of abused men
never underestimate the damage of spiritual abuse

i have so many brave friends who are willing to tell their story. i really believe in the power of true-story-telling. to me, “the church” should be the safest place on earth to share our real stories & find hope & healing. i have a few new interviews that i will be sharing this week that explore some other topics.

most people i know are struggling with some kind of addiction–drugs, alcohol, work, relationships, food, approval, church, and everything in between. one addiction that doesn’t get much attention but is rampant & typically very hidden in the darkness is women’s sexual addiction. over the past years we’ve had a lot of focus on men’s sexual addiction but very little conversations about women who struggle, too. i have been privileged to journey with some brave women along the way who have said out loud “i can’t stop looking at porn” or “i am having an affair” or “i am always fantasizing about sexually inappropriate things.” almost every time, they think they are the only one, but in reality there are many in the same boat, wrestling with the same feelings of guilt & shame. i have also seen what can happen when the truth gets exposed to the light & shame’s power is destroyed.

* * * * *

meet “sarah”. she spent most of her christian experience keeping her shameful experience hidden, and in the past few years has learned to bring her story into the open & experience another layer of God’s healing. listen in on a bit of her journey (warning: this isn’t for all eyes and ears. some of it might be too much for some so use caution reading).

share a little bit about what your spiritual journey, what your family background and experiences with God have been like.

Throughout my whole life, I’ve been into God, to some degree. I grew up in a mainline Protestant denomination. We went to Sunday School and church every Sunday and then, as a teen, I went to Youth Group. As I look back, I can see that God was mostly about being good–shoulds and oughta do’s and an awful lot of lip service! In my Freshman year of college, I actually heard about entering into a personal relationship with Jesus, and I responded in my heart with “I like the idea of all this love-me stuff. I think I want God to be in my life more.” I began to attend Bible Studies and, for a couple of summers, even participated in outreach activities – seeking to interest people in seeking after God. After getting married, church and God-stuff was a priority in our lives. Experiences with God have included a lot of a-ha’s through journaling & conferences that teach about different aspects of God-stuff as well as encouraging me to trust Him in new ways. Slowly but surely, He’s been there to change my oughta-do’s into wanna-do’s.

when do you first realize you had a sexual addiction? it can look different for everyone, what did it look like for you?

I didn’t put the words ‘sexual addiction’ around my deal until very recently, just last fall. However, it was clear to me, after I married, that my thought life was not healthy and my choices prior to marriage were affecting my married life. My addiction began when I was a teenager, with masturbation, which, when I began to date, led to promiscuity and later to an extramarital affair. As a teenager, I thought about sex a lot. I didn’t have access to printed porn, but romance novels fed my imagination just fine. I chose to let my imagination be trained to think of sensual things readily.

how did it affect your marriage, your relationships?

As a dating teenager, my addiction prompted me to be more experimental with my boyfriends. The cycle of shame, poor self esteem, obsessive thoughts and masturbation created so much inner conflict inside of me and robbed me not only of confidence and freedom then, but also through most of my adult life in different ways. In my marriage, the allure of the illicit affected my desire for my husband. I found myself needing to fantasize in order to be turned on. Over time, as I was trying to be a ‘good Christian’ and also a good wife, the inner conflict and guilt was often overwhelming. Having sex was such a mental gymnastics nightmare for me that I didn’t want it. The extra-marital affair simply added to my guilt and conflict. I’ve been told that it’s a logical occurrence for people with my addiction to become unfaithful in order to satisfy their appetite for the illicit.

we don’t hear nearly as much about women struggling with pornography as we do about men. can you share what that magnetic-pull-toward-what-wasn’t-good-for-you was like?

It was very powerful. My deal wasn’t ongoing looking at printed pornography – except for sexually graphic portions of novels. I recall finding a Playboy under my brother’s bed once and was turned on by the women, but somehow having the actual picture in my hand was too much. Even though I ‘resisted’ looking at the pictures, I stored them in my imaginations. That’s just as harmful. As for the magnetic pull, it didn’t help that I didn’t have extracurricular activities after school. I’ve often wondered why I didn’t. Maybe it was shame related confidence issues? The main ‘pull’ was that masturbating just plain felt so good. For me, the guilt afterward was terrible. But how good it felt won over the consequences I knew would result.

shame is usually the biggest factor with issues of addiction, especially sexual addiction. what was the shame cycle like for you?

Let’s go with “anticipate enjoyment, guilt, compulsion, great inner debate, can’t resist, guilt, give in, guilt, sadness, feeling sick in the head, what have I done to myself to get myself so trapped, why and how does something so wonderful get to be so bad and wrong, ashamed, angry with myself, hide and stuff it ’til next time.”

in your situation, for many years you didn’t talk about your past with people close to you and were involved with church, small groups, all kinds of christian-y things. what held you back from embracing this part of your story?

Pride. Shame. Embarrassment. I wanted my world to only see the good stuff, not the crap that I tried to pretend I’d completely and totally left behind. I didn’t want anyone to know what I was capable of. Since I had experienced a lot of breakthroughs in my own sexuality, I was able to pretend that my past was just that… in the past.

when did things begin to shift for you, when you knew it was time to come “out of the darkness”?

My thoughts about ‘coming out of the darkness’ began to shift as a result of many things spoken at a conference that was covering the various aspects of Lazarus’ rising from the dead. I began to see that indeed I still had ‘death cloths’ (guilt, shame, the effects of hiding my story) stuck to me. Jesus told Lazarus’ community to unwrap him. I’d heard this teaching for years, but never sensed God pointing to me and my death cloths surrounding this particular stuff. Not only did I hear people’s words about it, but I also strongly sensed God’s voice in my spirit confirming what the people were saying.

what has the healing journey looked like? what’s been the best part? the hardest part?

It’s looked like me being loosed to speak of it to people that I am led to share with – first of all, my family! It’s looked like freedom – like a little girl walking slowly, deliberately toward a meadow. At first, hesitant that if she goes into the openness, she may be eaten alive, but then the longer she walks in the meadow, the stronger her legs become and she knows that she is ever so slowly morphing into the woman that God had in mind when He called her out into that meadow. No more hiding. The best part? The sense of finally being much more fully seen/known/understood. Now my family and close friends have much more context for my life and my responses to stuff today. Also, seeing the lights go on in other’s eyes and hearts when I share my story is so rewarding. Redemption is amazing. To think that God can actually use my darkness to help bring others into the light! The hardest part? It has sometimes looked a bit like Hide ‘n’ Seek – you want to be found, but then it was kind of nice being invisible there in my hidey-hole. I had grown very accustomed to and comfortable hiding and pretending. There’s also the fear that people will be totally disgusted and not be able to accept/believe the person I am becoming–that they’ll continue to look at me as one still stuck in my addiction.

coming out of the darkness and bringing shame to light is a huge step. what has given you courage to tell your story more openly?

Hmmm, because I am so naturally a coward in so many other parts of life, I’ve got to think it’s a God-thing. Plus, just imagining the lives of people near me who may hear or read of my journey and decide to cry out for a different way gives me courage. To think that my telling my story could help draw someone out of a similar hole is definitely an impetus for me. It makes me so sad to know how many women feel so alone in shame and guilt, no matter the struggle or addiction.

this last season has brought a burst of new healing as you’ve begun to tell your story more openly. what have you been learning about God in the midst.

Three things come to mind. Redeemer, Trustworthy, and Truth Teller. I have known God as ‘Redeemer’–taking my ‘junk’ and using it to help someone see Him differently for their own life. I’ve seen Him to be trustworthy in new places: out on the proverbial limb of transparency. I know, from experience, that He’ll be there to catch me, soothe the bumps and bruises that may occur as a result of my sharing (and there have been some). When I confessed my stuff to Him, I experienced healing, just like He says in I John 1:9– “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” BUT, I’d not fully known the blessing of James 5:16 : “Confess your sins to EACH OTHER and pray for each other so that you may be healed.” I’ve learned yet another place where God is telling the truth and can be trusted. He does affect healing through confession one to another. I have really needed to learn that one.

what have you been learning about yourself?

I see my pride and vanity way more clearly than ever. There was a reason I chose not to be transparent about my story, and it’s rooted in pride and shame and fear. God continues to reveal just how much my pride gets in the way of living really honestly before others. It’s much easier for me to be honest with God than people.

what words of hope do you have for women and men out there battling sexual addiction?

Even if you are afraid, God is always here, patiently waiting for you to cry out to Him for help out of the hole you are in. He knows you better than you know yourself [check out Psalm 139] and nothing, absolutely nothing, is too big for Him. I believe God wants to bring us all out in to that proverbial ‘meadow’–that place of freedom in our deep insides. He knows the places we hang onto that keep us crouching in the forest, in the darkness. Let God come and pry your hands from those things that keep you from freedom, light, true satisfaction I believe He can fill that deepest part of you that feels empty and needy. And most of all, remember, you are not alone.

* * * * *

thank you, sarah, for sharing a bit of your journey. for some women, shameful things like this are in the past but haven’t been integrated into their current story. for others, the addiction is current & the shame-acting out-shame cycle is in full force. and as many of you know, i hate shame. the one thing i feel so clear on is how important it is to have a safe place to share what’s really going on inside, to bring what’s in the darkness into the light so that real healing can begin and God & people can journey with you on the path toward hope & change. as always, thank you for comments; remember how hard it is for people to say some of these things out loud on the world wide web; it helps so much to hear others hearts & thoughts.

ps: later this week: out of the darkness: singleness & the church

ppss: thanks for your thoughts & prayers for my back. they mean a lot to me.

out of the darkness: never underestimate the damage of spiritual abuse.

Posted on Nov 5, 2009 in fundamentalism, out of the darkness | 21 comments

if there’s one thing that really pisses me off in this world it’s abuse. to me, abuse is when people use their power, authority, position, or strength in unhealthy damaging ways to control, harm, manipulate, and use people. abuse strips people of dignity. it confuses and hurts. it messes with our heads. it crosses socioeconomic and cultural boundaries and is far more prevalent than any of us probably know. and while i often speak of sexual, physical, and emotional abuse, one other form of abuse (which i would probably place in the “emotional” category) is spiritual abuse. so many have been harmed by messed-up church systems where power & control overtook a sincere desire to serve God and be part of christian community. i hear story after story of weird church experiences, and the theme always seems to be the same: sincere dear Christ-followers get sucked into an unhealthy, power-driven, unsafe system and somehow end up hurt and with their faith damaged.

for those of you new to the carnival, this past summer i did a series of interview called “out of the darkness” where friends of mine shared their real story. you can see a list of posts in this series here. i have wanted to include this one for a while and am thankful for my friend claire* who was willing to bravely share her experiences of emerging from the ravages of spiritual abuse. she is smart, talented, powerful, kind, and extremely loyal. she entered into a community looking for family and a place to live out her devotion to God and when she started asking questions and wrestling with her faith, ended up seeing how unsafe and unhealthy the whole thing really was. she’s “out” now but is still healing from the damage. i am privileged to know her and see God redeeming this experience in amazing ways. as you read, remember there are all kinds of degrees of spiritual abuse–some more severe than others. notice what parts you or someone you know might connect with.

* * * * *

share a little bit about your family, educational, spiritual background & how you ended up in a spiritually abusive church.

I was an only-child to a single mom, who raised me by herself until she met my step-dad when I was 10. They were both self-described atheists and very much lived the “just be a good person” doctrine. When I was 15, my mom was diagnosed with terminal breast cancer, which started my spiritual quest for the meaning of it all. A friend invited me to Young Life, and over time, I became a solidly evangelical believer at 17. I was very determined to be “Super Christian” and was asked to be a junior high leader three months later, which further magnified my need to get a solid handle on this new faith. I read and listened to everything I could get my hands on, as I felt like I needed to “catch up” to my friends who got to grow up knowing what I was just then learning.

I went out of state to college and made sure that my first priority was to find a mega-church to plug into, becoming an integral part of the college group. I was also a Young Life leader, ran discipleship groups through college and graduate school, and later went to seminary to pursue a career in Christian counseling. My mom died the summer before I graduated from college; her death became a pivotal part of my spiritual and emotional journey. My step-dad soon left the family picture out of his own grief, and I found myself alone in another state at 22 and confused on many levels. I was so vulnerable and longed to be part of a “family.”

describe what drew you to the church you ended up having to leave. what kept you there initially?

Several months after my mom died, a new girl at work invited me to come to her church. She described it as more like a family than a church, and something hopeful sparked inside my heart. Instantly upon my arrival, I was both literally and figuratively embraced and the desire to matter was soon quenched. I therefore consciously ignored over time the theological alarms regarding the church’s beliefs, as it became easy to rationalize almost anything if enough love was thrown into the mix.

For the six years that I was a part, I honestly learned how to be an authentic Christian, how to let myself be loved, and to work through deep wounds. However, the painful flip-side of the truth is that there were more secret interactions that happened behind the scenes that darken many of those good memories.

what were some of the dynamics that you experienced, some of the “standard practices” in the community?

From the pulpit and in relationship, it was often relayed that God communicated prophetically to the senior pastor or to other leaders in the church. The pastor would say things such as, “Claire, the Holy Spirit showed me a vivid picture of your life, and He wants you to know that it is dangerous to run away from the mantle of authority that He has placed you under.” It was the ultimate trump card; how do you disagree with that?! While things were said that made me raise an internal eyebrow, the culture subtly sent a message that no one should verbally express any concern over these types of statements, lest we be accused of a “spirit of disunity” or having unresolved authority issues. Different friends outside the church started to express concern that I was a part of a cult, as my own opinion became less important than the need to submit. I dismissed their concern, as the family void screamed louder than all logic.

did you have some moments where you were like “hmm, something doesn’t feel quite right here?” what did you do with those feelings?

I was the only one at seminary that went to a more charismatic church, and I attributed my discomfort to basic theological differences. In actuality, I did ascribe more to the evangelical way of thought, but I wanted the real life community that I was experiencing. I always wanted something more with my life, and it sort of felt like I was getting that. One of the things that I heard often was that a pastor could sense “the spirit of death” attached to me, as I was told that it would be my “thorn in the side” and always an issue. This meant that if the “spirit of death” was present, I could be instantly plucked from whatever I was doing in church or an event, as I could potentially be a hazard to myself or others unknowingly. While many of the teachings of the church did not completely resonate with me, I told myself that many things of the spirit could not be understood. I stuffed them into an incredibly deep place and told myself constantly that I loved the people, and so I could trust that it was really my unnecessary doubts that were causing my inhibitions.

can you share some of the specific words/phrases/ways-of-manipulating that were passed on to you?

While there were so many subtle ways of the abuse of power, two particularly poignant ways come to mind. One of the biggest ways was through eye contact; it was made very clear that an infraction of any measure resulted in a need to avert one’s eyes. The verse that was used was “I will set before my eyes no vile thing.” Psalm 101:3. A small group leader would often have a conversation about how it was important to look at each other authentically and with pure eyes.

Once I got in specific “trouble” when, casually over coffee, I was letting my small group leader–who was a mentor to me–know more about my private world. I shared with her that I was writing a letter to my mom (who had died 3 years prior) about things left unsaid, and how my heart was broken. She then proceeded to later tell the senior pastor that I was, in fact, talking to spirits, which meant that I had committed an infraction. He told me in his office that if I was ever found to be communicating with the dead again, I would no longer be able to teach my Sunday School class. He then prayed that the “spirit of death” would be lifted off of me. I was also informed that I had to work out my sin with God and would be advised as when I could clearly make eye contact with my leaders again. If there was an infraction, it would be either directly or indirectly stated that as a transparent community, we needed to look at each other only with honest hearts. Even now, I sometimes feel myself look away or reflect later that I didn’t make eye contact, out of fear of not being exactly “right” in relationship. I am working very hard on purging that issue out of my system entirely

you are an educated, extremely smart woman. i know some people might be asking, “how come you didn’t just go “this is crap” and go find another place to go?” help others understand how easy that is to say and much harder to do when you are in it.

That is one of the absolute hardest pieces for me to reconcile, the fact that that I did buy in for so long, too long. I am so full of passion, and I have always wanted to make lasting impact with everything I do, especially as a believer. I felt as if my partnership in the church was my responsibility to make a real difference in relationships. I had become disillusioned with “playing church”, and I really thought that I had arrived at a place that did the real thing. The community component was unlike anything I had ever seen, and it made sense to me more in my heart than in my head. Once things started to seem off to me, I think I was in too deep to see the truth from a clear perspective. My emotional need to be connected to a “family” far superseded my intellectual apprehensions.

when did something significantly shift in your heart, where you knew “i can’t be part of this anymore.”

There were many smaller moments that shifted over the last year there, but a specific time does stand out. A clear moment was when the youth pastor and I took the high school kids to a conference. I was listening to some of the things/phrases specific to our church that he was telling our youth group on the way to the center, and it made my stomach turn. He was telling them that they needed to make sure to not “open their ears up to deceit” and to the “ways of the flesh” as this internationally known conference was not put on by our church. I was so very bothered that we were literally instructing our kids to not even listen to other Christians that did not believe the exact same way. As I sat there in the conference, I decided that I could not morally reconcile being a representative to a younger generation when I no longer believed in the practices of the church.

what happened after you left? what were some of the ramifications of your decision?

I was not sure how to “leave”, as the church had become my family and many of my main relationships. I was pulling back from as much involvement, but I was still as committed to the families and friends there as when I did buy in. One day, the associate pastor, whom I was close to, called me at work to ask about my lack of regular attendance at small group. I confided that I was thinking about checking out another church. That is when his tone–and my world–changed.

He then started a rapid fire succession of questions, asking if the NEW church knew about my past abuse as a kid, if they would love me as much as this church did, if they were spirit-led, or if I knew what it was like to live without a spiritual covering? He said that in order to leave the church, I would need to get permission from the senior pastor, as he would have to give me a specific blessing. I adamantly refused, and he stated,“Then be prepared to deal with the consequences” and hung up.

I then received a call from the family that I was the closest with, the one that I had been on vacation with the month prior. She stated, “We no longer trust you, if you are not a part of the church any longer.” I then received the same message via e-mail about ten times from other families that day. I was beyond devastated, to say in the least.

what has your journey been like since? what are you learning about yourself, God, “the church” as a result of your exit?

The beautiful thing about The Refuge is that it is very clear that the love in our community has absolutely nothing to do with a theological, political, or emotional state; it is completely personal. I am completely confident that if I woke up one day either believing something different or thought a different way about any spiritual issue, it would not matter one bit. I would still be loved as Claire, because of who I am, and not what God is working out in and through me. My hope has been restored for church, as I am part of a hope in action for a faith community.

As for me, I am learning how strong my voice is again, leaning into trusting my heart. I am seeing how not having to have the answers is actually the wisest that I have ever been. For years, I suppressed the real Claire that is both a woman and a leader and developed a fear of my strength. I always felt guilty for being annoyed at the “submissive woman” construct, and I am now allowing myself the freedom to emerge from under that idea entirely. I am experiencing how deeply I am cared for by God, when for the longest time I thought I had been forgotten in the shuffle. The amazing circumstances that led me to where I am now, especially physically, point to a God who is paying serious attention to details of my life (and I didn’t need someone else to tell me what God was saying).

now you are “re-entering” christian community again; what freaks the hell out of you? what is bringing you hope?

It freaks the hell out of me to accidentally say or do the wrong thing and find myself reeling from a blow. For example, once as a church leader at a youth camp, I joked that the rec room looked like a water bottle cemetery. The pastor’s wife took me aside and literally reamed me for saying such an inappropriate thing, stated that I had a “spirit of defiance” and that I was communicating towards the youth a dangerous flippancy towards death. Now it seems ridiculous, but at the time, I was so scared of falling out of good graces that I quietly obliged.

It makes it a lot easier that The Refuge is so incredibly safe, and that even bigger things, like difference of opinion on theological or political issues, are handled so diplomatically. I am confident that I made the right decision where I have landed, but I still feel the urge to run away. Old doubts about letting myself feel too connected–and therefore too vulnerable–have re-surfaced. It is bringing me hope that I could be in a place where my gifts could be used, my voice could be heard, and I would have the freedom to “be” without the confines of some arbitrary authority) I feel smarter, stronger, and more aware of my own baggage that I am bringing to the table, and that offers a sense of freedom.

what words of hope do you have for others out there who have “left” and are lonely, scared, and confused?

I would say that it is important to trust the process, as there really is life in the “in between.” I was horrified at the thought of living in the balance of nothing–no church, a bruised faith, a wounded heart, and a lack of real “direction”. However, it was that very journey that led me to where I am now, and there was no real “map” assisting with my spiritual destination.

anything else you’d like to add?

What has been the most healing for me is to find safe people to talk with about the inner details of my journey. It is one thing to listen to another sharing pain, but it is so humbling–and ultimately very healing–to allow yourself to share the vulnerabilities in your life and find you’re really not alone, or ungodly, or “unfit” for leadership just because you struggle.

* * * * *

thank you, claire, for your honesty and courage to “get out” of an unsafe system and find hope again. the church of Jesus Christ is supposed to be the free-est, least oppressive place on earth. it is a travesty that so many have used the name of God to control, oppress, and keep people in the fold. may those “stuck” find the courage they need to get out and find freedom, hope, and their voice again (or maybe for the first time).

out of the darkness: the untold story of abused men

Posted on Aug 10, 2009 in healing, identity, out of the darkness | 17 comments

thank you all for your thoughts and love from my last out of the darkness post. i am always thankful to hear that somehow my story can offer hope to others in some small way. it is more redeeming than you know. i have appreciated this series and the wonderful stories of God-at-work-through-the-Body-of-Christ-when-it-becomes-safe-enough-for-what-is-in-the-darkness-to-come-into-the-light.

this week’s story is one that is very special to me because it is so typically untold. you hear me all the time talk about marginalized and abused women. i of course am so passionate about that issue. at the same time, there is often another angle on abuse—emotional, physical, and sexual—that is often untold. and whether we are aware of it or not, there are many men who are abuse victims. they are in abusive relationships and the perpetrators are women. it can look different for everyone. some of these relationships involve sexual abuse. others have emotional abuse, over-controlling, rage, and constant be-littling at their core. and others can involve physical abuse, women who cause physical harm to their partners. regardless of the type, the results of abuse tend to always be the same—dignity gets stripped, voices are silenced, shame & self-loathing is magnified. and often when i am with my male friends who struggle with healing from past and present abuse, i share with them the similarities. one huge difference that exists between them, though, is how typically “unacceptable” it is for men to be considered as “abused” and not really being able to share their stories in these terms. the gender stereotypes of men as abuser and woman as victim that we so often embrace are more engrained into our cultural—and spiritual—fabric than we might know. so abused men are often faced with a double-whammy.

so listen in on my dear friend “greg’s” powerful story as he has been journeying out of the darkness and into the glorious light of hope & healing from the shame and pain of being in abusive relationships. greg’s not the only one. i know more and more men who struggle with this same pain & have often found the church to be less-than-helpful in understanding. i hope that changes over time as we hear more stories and stop our stereotypical assumptions about men & women and the dynamics of abuse.

* * * * *

share a little bit about your family dynamics & your early spiritual journey.

My mother was dominant and extremely co-dependent in both sexual and emotional ways towards me. My dad was a dry drunk expressing himself with rage and negativity followed by withdrawal. I protected myself by withdrawing from my family as much as I could; for example, I never wanted to be touched by either of my parents. We lived on a farm with my maternal grandparents, and they felt safer to me and I spent as much of my time as I could with them.

I grew up in church, I call it “the flannel-board jungle.” My sister and I would walk through the fields to Sunday School every Sunday. (I have strings of medals to prove perfect attendance). My parents never attended as both had stories of damage by church in their youth. When I was old enough I was sent off to church camp. This was a destructive experience. We were forced to hear from missionaries, who worked in Africa and were bigots. The only game we were forced to play involved two kids straddling a suspended log and hitting each other with pillows until one fell to the hard ground in shame and derision. While I continued to have a very active spiritual life I had nothing to do with Christian church for over thirty years.

usually those of us who end up in abusive relationships have been victims of some form of abuse, either emotional, physical, or sexual. can you share a little bit about where your story intersects with any of these?

I think I can cover all three types of abuse. When I was small, say pre-ten years old, I remember this board. It was varnished and had large reinforced holes, I guess to avoid wind resistance; that was used for corporal punishment. When I was about ten I became my mother’s confidante on all matters of my father’s short-comings as a husband, including intimate details of their sex life. Around this time a family “friend” took me camping a couple of times and abused me sexually. After the final time I must have been so traumatized that the “family friend” just disappeared. This was never mentioned in the family. My father was a rage-a-holic and was constantly negative toward me. After the life I have described above I had a complete mental breakdown at 19. When I was finally able to leave home I never slept under that roof again.

how did you end up in the marriage you ended up in? can you describe what was going on for you during that time?

I think this is a story of lack of personhood. My mother raised me as a co-dependent responsible for her emotional well-being. She did this with guilt and shame. As I tried to run from her to new relationships I brought along that guilt and shame. I did not come to new relationships as a real person but as an economic and emotional utility. I don’t think there was a real alive person there at all.

what did life look like in your relationship at home? what were some of the dynamics of your relationship?

I was responsible for all the personal needs of my spouse be they emotional, economic, or care-giving of any sort. I could not have any thoughts or feelings of my own, in fact I was told what feelings and thoughts I was allowed to have. I remember that late in this relationship she would sent letters to my personal therapist explaining what should be discussed and what the outcome should be. I was told what I wanted for my birthday, where I wanted to go on vacation, and even what I wanted for dinner. If I could not meet any of my spouses needs be they openly demanded or unknown to me, this would illicit hours of rage and screaming anger. Sometimes she would apologize the next day. I was guarded and in fear literally all the time. One thing I learned the hard way was that nothing of me was ever allowed to be present at home.

when did you realize “oh no, this is an extremely abusive relationship?”

This is a hard place to be honest. I stayed in fear, depression, and anxiety for well over a decade telling myself this is where I should be, that this is somehow all I was worth. With the help of my therapist I did something I had never done before: I stood up for myself. It was a very minor issue that neither my therapist nor I can remember, but my ex, in full abusive rage, kicked me out of the house. Even after all this and a number of nasty letters from her it still took about four months before I could even say that I might not deserve this kind of treatment. Remember from my mother to my ex I had been told this is what I deserve. Therefore I did not start to think of my relationship as abusive until months after it was over.

we hear a lot about abused women, but very little about abused men. share a little bit about “extra shame” from being a man caught in the cycle of abuse.

I would like to bring up two common expressions, “Boy, is he whipped” and “You know who wears the pants in that family”. These things mostly are said derisively behind the back of the subject. Men who are abusers can go to Promise Keepers and get a social ‘Get out of Jail Free’ card. Women who are abused have a plethora of ‘safe houses’ and support groups. Men who are abused have addiction, shame, and guilt to turn to. The anger I feel now, as I’m coming out of abuse, could be turned into destructive hate and I could assume the role of abuser. I am choosing not to. Basically shame is about all our culture offers an abused male. I think it’s completely misunderstood and overlooked.

in this moment, a lot of people go ‘hey, why didn’t you just leave?” can you flesh out why that is such a dumb question!

Dumb is right but it covers the real meaning, which is denial. I think that anyone who even thinks this should ask themselves where they fit within the spectrum of abuser/victim. Women my tell themselves that, ‘He really loves me’, ‘He was just upset at work’, or worse ‘It was my fault’. Men may think ‘It’s the only way she will listen’ or ‘Sorry, I won’t do that again’. Abused men live in a world of, ‘She really loves me and needs me’ and “This is all I deserve.” I think anyone who asks the question above is in denial about how pervasive abusive dynamics really can be.

you got out of your relationship and are in the process of healing. what have you been learning about yourself through this process?

I have learned that I’m angry with God. I have learned that this is OK. In the past I lived in denial, I medicated the pain with alcohol, and the only behavior I was capable of was passive-aggressive. Now that I’m not living a lie I have found a growing sense of freedom, particularly from the need for negative behavior. I’m beginning to understand that while one is living in the abuser/victim dynamic there is no change, no chance for faith, hope, and love. As a victim of abuse my only response to the world was critical and negative. Now I feel a real need for a different way to negotiate life. I don’t think it is immediately intuitive, but somehow God has opened my heart to the need for humility. Humility is a narrow path that requires a courage and heart that I have never experienced before. Humility, for an abuse victim, is a transcendental act of letting go of fear; of trusting God for the faith, hope, and love that has never been a part of life before.

what have you been learning about God?

That I’m His beloved child and he does have a special purpose for me and that I can trust Him. Right now I can trust God in all the anger I direct his way. I am beginning to learn that if I watch and listen God well lend me the strength to do things I have never been able to do for myself.

how has being in a safe community helped you expose the shame into the light and begin to experience healing?

Being in a safe community hasn’t just helped it has been essential to my healing. Therapy and personal prayer have helped but a safe community has allowed me to experience what it means to be a beloved child of God. It has been a place where I have begun to see that there is a real person inside and, even more, a good person.

what were some of the lies you used to believe about yourself?

I think that an abused person, of either sex, does not have a “self”. We allow someone else to tell us what and who we are. My messages were” useless, stupid, always wrong, worthless, fat, bastard” and on and on. I think the real lie here is that I don’t have a self other than what I’m told to be. The message of‘The abuser is god and allows no other god’ is more pervasive than one might think. The only religion allowed is the care and worship of the abuser. This co-dependent relationship is constructed with anger and shaming that controls the victim.

what are some of the truths you are beginning to embrace?

True humility is not to be feared but embraced. When I lived as a victim of abuse humility was either a lie I had to live in relation to the abuser or a false face I tried to wear to cover all the inner anger that I never wanted anyone else to see. I remember trying to think about humility and feeling like a blind person contemplating a rainbow. Of course this flimsy construct often fell apart leaving more shame, fear, and guilt in the ruins. Now I’m starting to find that real humility is part of the path towards freedom, it’s a trust in God that I hadn’t experienced before.

when you hear a lot of talk about “abused women” what do you want to make sure gets included in the conversation?

I hope that everyone would meditate about this idea: that all abusive men and women and all abused men and women share the same inner world of fear, hopelessness, and shame. And this dark messy world becomes all consuming. The way out is to be honest with God and safe people about this situation, no matter what it looks like.

how do you balance the common tendency (and fear for many) to live as victim and at the same time embrace the truth of your story?

I think I had to come to a place where I had to admit that I am a victim and, as such, my life is out of control. But, when I wake up in the morning, I don’t have to be a victim today. In other words admit I’m addicted to being a victim but I have removed myself from the environment of victimization.

what words of hope do you have for men out there who are crippled by previous emotional and physical and sexual abuse, either from childhood or from a toxic relationship

You are not defined by your fear, shame, and guilt. You are not a failure. God has a need for the gifts you have been given. I know you barely know what they are and you don’t really trust them. It’s time to let God and safe loving people take your hand and walk with you to a new life. I know it is scary, but you can wake up bit-by-bit and day-by-day with less fear, shame, and guilt.

how can communities become more sensitive to the untold stories of abused men?

I think this goes back to what the prophets and Jesus had to say about really hearing and seeing. You know, the stuff about ears and eyes that cannot hear or see. I know, that as an abused man, I sounded horrible and looked ugly. That’s what bringing anger, shame, and guilt must look like. Communities need to see with eyes of grace and hear with ears of hope. An infant’s crying can be annoying or a clarion call to surround the child with love.

anything else you’d like to add?

Please, dear reader, allow me some grace. This is a very difficult testimony. I hope that I’m now opening my heart to at least a small portion of forgiveness towards those that have abused me. While I cannot be in relationship with any of them, for various reasons, I am beginning to understand that we have all lived in the same dark and messy world of fear, shame and guilt that knew no boundaries. Please God forgive us, both abusers and victims, for we really don’t know what we’re doing to each other.

* * * * *

greg, i am thankful you are my brother on the journey. thank you for your courage to put to words what has happened or is happening for a lot of men in churches & families & friendships yet is most often unexpressed and hidden. there are so many men who, like women, feel unworthy, undeserving of good things, who believe that any morsel of connection is better than nothing at all. as children of God, that damaging message needs to be destroyed. my hope is that we will participate in being people & places of hope, calling out the good and beautiful in the ugliest and most shame-filled of situations.

out of the darkness: the “A” word–abortion

Posted on Jul 27, 2009 in ex good christian women, healing, out of the darkness | 25 comments

it’s summer, and i’m definitely down to posting once a week at best; that’s plenty for right now. i have been in the midst of typical refuge nuttiness, which i am trying to really embrace as the glory and beauty of real community together. life in the trenches, healing, growing, learning, giving, stretching is hard and wonderful work, and sometimes i wake up and say “well, i guess this is what you asked for, isn’t it?” right now we are working the 12 steps together at our wednesday eve house of refuge. i have been integrating material from several different sources into a workshop-y format that is refuge-style & have been amazed by the small & big shifts many are making as we focus on this season of intentional change (if you are at all interested in the personal journaling/processing material, let me know and i’ll be glad to share it with you). at the same time, it’s been kicking my butt! but i can proudly say i have taken some hard relational steps to shift some unhealthy patterns that i’ve been stuck in for the past 3 ½ years (well, longer than that, but planting the refuge definitely magnified them). real love doesn’t always look like what we’ve been taught. i believe an important mission of the church is to teach nuts and bolts kinds of ways on how-to-become-a-more-loving-human-being-in-relationship-with-yourself-and-God-and-others. anyway, i’m thankful for my courageous friends who aren’t afraid to go to hard places and be honest about their bullsh*t; they make me want to keep moving closer to God, closer to me, closer to others & find out what that really means. well, that’s a brief check-in on me. i appreciate your readership & am glad that somehow through the carnival craziness you are being challenged, gaining courage, and finding some weird hope here and there.

it’s time to pick up with another contribution to the “out of the darkness” series. if you are just now reading, you catch up on previous posts here. i have been wanting to write this post for a long time about “the A word.” not adultery. the other flaming A–abortion. it was recently inspired by this video on my friend craig spinks site, recycle your faith. it was such a lovely piece but i was so disturbed by the comments that were shared on youtube in response. yes, i know it’s a hot topic and creates much controversy and there are people whose full-time jobs and lives are to advocate against it. but i think what bothered me so much about it is just how stinking mean some of the comments were. i mean how could “have an abortion=burn in hell” be anything in the same realm as loving like Jesus?

so i wanted to bring a personal story to the table. i’ve already shared a piece of it here. it is not painful anymore for me to talk about, so i am not going to use a different name or use the exact same format as the other out of the darkness interviews. i’m just going to tell you what it has been like for me over the years as a christian woman who had an abortion when i was in high school. and though i have been speaking publicly & writing about it for the past 12 years, there are some that don’t know this part of my journey. i am guessing high school & college friends who link to this blog through facebook will wonder how they never knew. but for those of us who have had abortions, we can probably all say how easy it is to try to hide, to keep the truth of our stories buried, to try to forget, especially in the church where the topic comes up more than anyone who hasn’t had one probably even notices.

i am not going to get into the politics of it; it’s just too complicated and i believe completely unnecessary in the moment. the part that i want to address is the fall-out from it & how terribly easy it is to keep it hidden in the darkness, especially in church.

when i was 17, the summer before my senior year, i found out i was pregnant. it was of course devastating and scary; the worst part for me is that my mom had my brother when she was 17 and i had seen how much she struggled & scraped to make ends meet after not going to college. in the moment, my boyfriend wanted to get married and have the baby and try to figure it out. his parents had recently become christians and they were good people but very unsure on how to help. i felt a lot of pressure to not repeat the pattern my mom had and to get an abortion and move on with my life. there were so many crazy iterations of what to do and what not to do in the moment, but in the end i went through with it. i found a doctor who performed a DNC, broke up with my boyfriend a few weeks later (his call, not mine), stuffed as far down as i possibly could (and it can go down deep) the shame and pain of what had just happened, entered into my senior year of high school filled with a great sadness that no one had any idea about, and was crowned homecoming queen a few months after that.

looking back, it was completely nuts. but in talking to many other women over the years who have had abortions, the patterns are usually similar. it starts with great fear about what to do. anger at ourselves for ending up there in the first place. then in some way, shape, or form, making the decision to go through with it. all of the shame and ickiness and pain of the procedure and the aftermath. pretending it didn’t happen and moving on with our lives. and then over time realizing that it’s very hard not to think about it every day and hate ourselves more and more with each passing moment.

for me, it wasn’t that hard to hide. i had become a very good hider at an early age, keeping the peace and making sure everyone around me was happy with me. i am the classic good-girl. and most good girls (and i think especially “christian” good girls) are hiding something, not necessarily specific acts like an abortion, but usually there are hidden negative feelings, inappropriate behaviors no one knows about, self-hatred, and deep insecurities. so like so many other women who have had abortions, i hid, pretended it never happened, and did my best to blend in the christian world. i graduated from college, went straight to graduate school & a full-full-full-time job, got married, and continued to do everything i could to “prove” to myself (and sometimes overtly, often covertly, to God) that my decision wasn’t for no reason. i was going to make something of myself, dammit! inside, though, my heart was filled with unforgiveness and shame. my husband had no idea this was part of my story; there was absolutely no way i was going to tell him and risk being ditched, especially after keeping it from him for a nice chunk of years. i couldn’t for the life of me accept Christ’s forgiveness; i could spout out about it for everyone else, but when it came to me, in the deep places of my heart, i always felt dirty, shameful, and unforgiveable. this played out subtly in all kinds of ways—in my relationship with jose, myself, and God. i pulled off what looked like real relationship, but somehow i always felt separated, unworthy, distanced, unable to really receive anything good.

so i worked harder, tried harder, hid harder. it actually wasn’t that hard to do, and i always say my dysfunction brought me great success in the church! i honestly think if i hadn’t ended up in a crazy women’s group my dear friend was facilitating (check out her recent book—church on the couch: why the church needs therapy, it’s really excellent!) i might not have ever come clean about the shame i was hiding in the darkness. but somehow, through a wacky move of the Holy Spirit & a burst of a temporary fleeting moment of not protecting myself like i was so used to, i ended up saying it out loud to another woman in my group. then i told jose (it was one of the most powerful moments in our marriage). then i told the group (they were always the most amazing listeners). what was once hidden was brought into the light, and i felt shame’s power begin to be broken. then i started the brutal hard work of letting God into all the emotional and spiritual collateral damage that was not just connected to the abortion but to my unhealthy patterns that surrounded far more than just that one decision.

it took me well over a year to even say the word “abortion” (i would call it the ‘A’ word). i remember my friends being so proud of me when i could say the real word. i began to stop lying when i went to my yearly OB/GYN appointments and they asked questions about how many pregnancies i had. i began to scare people who were used to me being “nice” with my honesty about how i sometimes felt about myself, about God. and over time, i began to feel more free and integrate the reality of what had happened into my story. as i began sharing it more openly i have been continually amazed by how many other women out there share the same experience. the thing we most often have in common: the shame and pain of hiding, the way it affects our relationship with God & others & ourselves, and never really being able to talk freely about it in safe places.

part of this out of the darkness series is really focusing in a reminder for all of us what we can learn both personally and corporately how to both be safer for people who are desperate to come out of the darkness and also to find hope for ourselves when things hidden are ruining our freedom and peace. i feel passionate about reminding people that there are real people, with real stories, real struggles, real hearts behind the hot topics of abortion and homosexuality. and when you are talking about these issues, please do not forget that someone sitting right across from you might have had an abortion, had a girlfriend or partner who had one, or be gay. i can’t tell you the number of times i have been in christian circles (or my kids have been victims of christian-school-craziness-related-to-this-issue-and-it-really-stinks-when-your-mom-is-the-person-they’re-talking-about) where there is a blatant disregard for the reality of other’s stories. remember, assuming is dangerous. and i know so many women who are afraid to say something for good, good reason.

here’s what i always, always hope for the body of Christ—that we’d be a safe container for the messiest, ugliest, scariest part of people’s stories and experiences, in the way that Jesus was concerned with people’s real stories and taught us that when we are poor in spirit we will see him. that the “high places” which have been culturally constructed by churches, by christians, would be smashed down and we’d be willing to live in the place where grace seems to pool the most—the low places. abortion is a low place in people’s experience. and left unhealed, hidden, festering, it is probably causing trouble in the ways of love. every person’s experience is different, and i would never want to make assumptions for anyone else, but i think i can confidently say this: there’s lots of us in church. in your neighborhoods. in the places where you work. in your families. we don’t wear a big A on our chest, but many are scared to share their story because of shame; we are afraid to put it out there for fear of being rejected, judged, fixed, or pressured to come up with all the right answers. every person’s experience is different, and i can only speak from mine. but the greatest healing in my life came from a safe place to be honest, reckon with the damage from my past and how it was messing with my present, and have some other people who loved me unconditionally despite. through them, i met the real Jesus, the healer, the restorer, the lover of those that felt the most unlovely.

please be kind with my story. and with others you hear along the way; it might not be about abortion but about a myriad of other things that cause shame & hiding, not just in “the church.” and if you haven’t told yours yet because you’re just too afraid, please know you are not alone. beauty can come out of ashes. and for most of us who have come out of the darkness & into the light, that beauty starts with telling the truth in a safe, hope-full place. sometimes that’s enough.