I sat across the lunch table with a former key staff member of a well-known Christian ministry. We briefly exchanged stories and then Carol (not her real name) said, Bev, tell me the truth. Do you see any hope in the church?
Hope? I asked.
Carol continued. After my husband, a committed church leader, walked out on our 20-year marriage for a younger woman, I was devastated. I wish I could tell you someone from the church expressed care, understanding or support. But instead everyone avoided me, no one called or even came to pray with me.
After meeting with our pastor, I realized even he did not understand how much pain I was in. All he said was to make sure I studied the Bible and prayed every day.
Frankly, I wish I could have studied the Bible every day, but the pain and shock of it all hurt so deeply there were days I thought I wouldn’t be able to catch my next breath, let alone concentrate enough to read or study. I could only pray three words, ‘Help me Jesus!’
The most humiliating day of my life was the day I finally walked into my doctor’s office to ask for an AIDS test. Even though I had remained pure before and during my marriage, when I found my husband was a sex addict, I knew I was at risk. It took me weeks to gather the courage to go. As I approached the receptionist, I looked around, felt my face grow hot, then whispered, ‘I came for an AIDS test’. I felt so alone and so ashamed.
Bev, do you ever see the church becoming a place where people understand pain like this and express care to people in my situation? Frankly, I rarely go to church any more. The pain is too great, Carol admitted.
Is this a unique story? I wish it were.
Usually I am a defender of the church. I believe it is Christ’s bride, his body on earth. Having been a pastor’s wife for many years, I know it is more difficult to bring change on the inside than it appears from the outside. It is also easier to criticize what the church is not doing, than it is to jump in and contribute to the solution.
But on that winter day in February, I heard Carol’s pain. I had heard it too many times before. And I had no words of defense to offer.
Each school term I hear students of all ages express similar pain. Women often tell me that my seminary classroom is the first place they have found where they could admit their source of pain and feel accepted and understood.
I have discovered that once students hear the story of a woman who has experienced the pain of abortion, betrayal or domestic abuse they begin to feel a new level of compassion. Once students feel compassion, they open their hearts for an increased awareness of the issue causing the pain. This deeper understanding of the pain motivates students to acquire shepherding skills. This progression has become predictable.
Often in our desire to resist sin, we can miss seeing a real person behind a past sin. Even when we know domestic abuse is wrong, we can transfer our doubts about the “real story” behind the scenes onto the victim. Then we find it hard to feel compassion or express care. We are still in the judging stage, wondering if she “deserves” our intervention. The very ones she had hoped would understand and offer care only multiply the enormous pain and self-doubt she already feels. She again is marginalized and further immobilized.
We look at our full slate of Bible studies and women’s church programs and wonder why women like Carol do not feel accepted or why they are not involved. Our beautifully decorated Christmas Luncheons and Spring Teas are admittedly not “pulling her in.” Our busy pastors may meet with her. She may even attend Sunday services. But we sense we are not really connecting with her. We are not really meeting her where she is. Where does she fit? What do we do for her?
On that day Carol’s question, “Bev, do you ever see the church becoming a place where people understand pain like this and express care to people in my situation?” continued to dig deep into my soul as I cried out to God, tears running down my cheeks, all the way home.
God’s answer surprised me.
See next week’s blog for more…
About Bev Hislop
Wow, great post, thanks for sharing this. I often face this question, and often, when my pain seems to isolate me and marginalize me within the community of believers. I continue to attend church mainly as spiritual discipline, in obedience to God, and sometimes encounter grace there. Currently, that is enough for me.
That said, I hold out the hope that the Lord could change things in me to make my interaction with the church “better.” I would like to be more mature and loving, regardless of how others respond to me or my pain. I’m a long way off from that though.
Scott,
Thanks for sharing your current church experience. I’m sorry that you’ve experienced isolation and marginalization within the body of Christ. One thing I appreciate about your perspective is you seem to know pain. This may give you a broader perspective. The truth is, so many others in our churches are in pain too!
My question is, what would you like to see happen when you walk into church–or during your time at church? What would be most helpful and encouraging for you?
I think we all might benefit from your response and perspective on this.
Good question, and one that I’ve spent years pondering, esp. in my own blogging. I’m not sure I have any answers though, except to say that what I hope for, what I look for, is an atmosphere of grace in which it is communicated in many and varied means (from the leadership down) that it is OK to struggle, to feel pain and still be a committed follower of Christ. We need to reclaim the biblical genres of lament and narrative for this purpose I think.
What is most helpful and encouraging to me (and what I try to give to others) is to know that in Christ I am completely accepted, loved and forgiven, that God is with me and for me even when (esp. when!) I can’t perform, that Christ’s cross is the only safe place to bring my pain and that there I find not only healing but more importantly a God who suffers and invites me into his suffering. Within his wounds I find cavernous space to suffer well.
When I look for “resources” though that help me give language and categories to my pain, I am forced to look outside the church usually to authors and traditions with wider categories in our contemporary context or in the halls of church history (e.g., St. John and the Dark Night of the Soul).
Are you forgetting that if you are a child of God, trough faith in Jesus Christ – you ARE the church, at least a part of it?!
I don’t think I’m forgetting that, though I’ll certainly consider the possibility.
In my comments above, and in mentioning an atmosphere of grace I’m not talking about a building, but a group dynamic that may or may not attend a local expression of God’s people.
*just to clarify my last statement – I didn’t mean resources outside the church in the sense of being “non-Christian” but resources outside my immediate, local church context. Sorry for any confusion.
You’ve given some valuable insights. THANK YOU Scott!
I SO appreciate several of your statements/desires for the church:
“what I look for, is an atmosphere of grace” –that really is key, isn’t it! What does that look like? When I walk in to church on a given day, how will that express itself? How can I tell if this church is truly a grace-filled community? And how can I generate grace?
I find it interesting that most of the people in the Bible experienced some kind of emotional pain in their life, per the biblical narrative. I especially appreciate how Jesus responded to women & men who others discounted and even shunned.
HOW can we “go and do likewise?”
I appreciate the dialogue very much, Bev. When I think of “what do I look for?” I think of Barnabas being sent to Antioch to check out the church growth there.
“When he came and saw the grace of God, he was glad, and he exhorted them all to remain faithful to the Lord with steadfast purpose, for he was a good man, full of the Holy Spirit and of faith. And a great many people were added to the Lord.” (Acts 11:23-24 ESV)
There was something visible that Barnabas saw that told him “grace” was prominent in Antioch. We’re not sure what it was, but it was likely their fervency, faithfulness to the truth and their love for one another.
What I want to see (and create) is safe and sacred space. Space where real people can meet God where they are (and not where they aren’t); space where God’s Word is central, not for building boundaries and walls to “keep others out,” but always fueling intimate relationship with God and others. Also, “grace space” would involve elements that engage the entire person through imaginative teaching and worship. Liturgy can help with this (though it can also hinder it!). These are just a few thoughts I’ve had on it – I’m curious to hear what others might think about it.
Bev, this was a remarkable blog to read!Thank you for your sincere words!
I am not sure what prompted me to get to this site
but I started out tonight, reading one of Galen Peterson’s printed messages on the Brit Hadasha website, and then for some reason, googled David Eckman’s name …and ended up here.
Long story short,after reading your blog, I am relieved to know that there are others who long for the kind of heart-involvement / authentic Christian community that one hopes to find in church…..especially if one is involved in a busy, large congregation that ministers to many needs but seems to neglect the relational aspect of building “family in Christ” among the congregants. I have found it difficult to be content with the hurry/hi-and -bye , the overburdened staff that wants to minister but is drowning in paperwork, the call to come and be involved……..I love to serve in church, in the community, in ministries overseas,etc. but in this season, my heart longs for relationship with my brothers and sisters! Less “doing” and more worship/ quality of community may best be found with a few, rather than in a mega-church. Large churches have the advantage of large resources,many good programs and outreach venues,yet pastoral care can often go begging and congregants suffer lack when there are no available,dedicated persons to do occasional,follow-up care for the members or even meet for coffee. Lord, have mercy! We need to care for one another. There are many in the Body of Christ who would benefit from a warm smile, a hug, an invitation to lunch or a walk. How can we become more open and more authentic? How can we move from myopia to chesed?