When Churches Abuse

I've been reading survivor stories from people who were abused by Mars Hill Church (pastored by Mark Driscoll--possibly my favorite person ever).

It's brutal stuff.

One of the more OT (Old Testament) methods Mars Hill used was "shunning," which is exactly what it sounds like. A person or an entire family would be formally ostracized from the church with all their remaining friends (or, if you like, brothers and sisters in Christ) instructed to go no contact--all in the name of biblical discipline and restoration.

I read one account by Jonna Petry, whose husband was abruptly fired from leadership in 2007. She describes how the church turned on her and her family, and the devastating spiritual, emotional and relational consequences.

It might not be physical, but it's still violence, and all in the name of God. Petry writes:

Spiritual abuse occurs when someone uses their power within a framework of spiritual belief or practice to satisfy their own needs at the expense of others. It is a breach of sacred trust. Christians are commanded by Jesus to love one another. When that is projected, articulated, enjoyed and then treacherously betrayed, the wounded person is left with “a sense of having been raped, emotionally and spiritually” – not by a stranger, but by someone who was deeply trusted. (See Recovering from Church Abuse by Len Hjalmarson)

One of the biggest selling points of today's evangelical Christian church is "family"--belonging and love and connection and acceptance, as in "You belong here."

I've talked to friends about the almost mythical nature of "community" in Christian churches. There's this idea that real community can only happen in the context of church-that a church is the only place that you as a Christian will ever belong.

Your sewing group? Heathens. Your coworkers? They want your promotion. Your college friends? They've moved on. Your biological family? They may or may not be there for you when you need them.

When these expectations for community aren't met--or when you never really feel like you belong in the first place--the emotional pain can be devastating. After all, churches often hold this out as an enticement: One church I attended had as part of its mission statement, "To give every orphan a family."

Furthermore, when Christian community is the only genuine community, it can take over your entire life. Often, members are encouraged to become more and more invested in their church, particularly by serving or by taking on a leadership role. The underlying assumption is that this is both a means to and a sign of spiritual growth.

Church Bubble

The people you worship with Sunday are the people you community group with Tuesday are the same people you party with Friday. If you are single, often you expect to date and marry within your church. Don't get me started on how depressing that can be.

Christians are encouraged to make non-Christian friends, but only from the standpoint of evangelism--convincing them to join the family (wow, that sounds creepy).

When you spend all your time with the same people, you tend to get attached.

Petry reflects on her own culpability in the abuse, in a narrative that I've heard many times from other Christians, and from myself:

I have come to understand that I was wrong in the way I entrusted my heart to people, looking to them for approval and affirmation, finding my identity in my relationships and in my ministry instead of completely and solely entrusting my heart to the Living God and finding my identity and security in Jesus Christ alone, who loves me and died for me and calls me His own. For we are all capable of great sin. And, no doubt, the wrong way I entrusted my heart to others coincided with the depth of my pain at their betrayal and rejection.

In sum, "I didn't love or trust God enough. If I had, I would have avoided some of this pain." I disagree. To me, it seems perfectly human to entrust your heart to other people--especially people that you have laughed with, cried with, served with, suffered with all in the name of Christian community. Emotional and relational attachment is less a conscious choice than a gradual, organic process that happens when people spend a lot of time together.

Hyper-vigilance about loving God more than I love my friend, my  boyfriend, my spouse, my children, does not solve the problem of human attachment or somehow make betrayal hurt less.

We were meant to love and trust other people. It's one of those things that makes us so incredibly vulnerable.

How many times have I emerged from a relationship feeling broken and empty, only to conclude that my mistake (or sin, as Petry characterizes it) was growing attached to a person instead of to God.

I can't tell myself this story anymore. It doesn't hold up.

I will say that based on Petry's story, I would advocate for diversifying your social portfolio--don't invest all of yourself in any one social group, whether it's a church or a motorcycle gang. Diversify. Make friends with people who don't share your religious or political or sports affiliation.

If you are embedded in a single group, when and if abuse does happen, it can be even more overwhelmingly devastating. Not all churches are abusive, but any church can let you down.

What's striking about Petry's account is how doggedly her family sought healing and reconciliation with the church that destroyed them. Some of it was just shock and disbelief--that those who had "loved" so much could now be so cruel. It reminds me of a woman who returns again and again to an abusive relationship before finally leaving for good.

You never know who will be there for you when everything falls apart--it could be someone you only have a tangential connection with, a friend of friend, an atheist, a Republican, a Lakers fan, a devout Christian, someone who watches Bachelor in Paradise for fun. We just can't predict these things.

Inspiration:
Jonna Petry's account
My friend labullets for calling my ideas "blog-worthy"

More about church:
Why is church cliquey?
Why is church cliquey? Part 2
Why is church cliquey? Part 3
Why is church cliquey? Part 4

Why is Church Cliquey? Part 3

A couple months ago I was praying and the story of Zacchaeus came to mind. So I found the story of Zacchaeus in Luke and read it. If you haven't read it, it's extremely short. It didn't particularly resonate with me, but I was like, cool, whatever. There's a short dude who is also a hated tax collector. He climbs a tree to see Jesus. Jesus singles him out and invites himself over. They party. Zacchaeus repents of his scummy tax-collecting ways.

The next day (or soon after), I went to church. It was a Sunday morning service and I found myself weaving in and out of the people in attendance. It was bright and sunny (this is Southern California). There were couples and families and children and babies and people I knew and people I didn't.

And I did something I don't think I've ever done before.

I took a backseat in my brain and just observed what was going on in there (do NOT try this at home, kids).

It wasn't pretty.

It was dark. Judgmental. Shallow. Vile. Ugly. The worst kind of petty envy and jealousy.

And in that moment I realized: I am Zacchaeus. I am the short, ugly (?), hated tax collector and I feel so much self-loathing that I put other people down internally in order to elevate myself.

But rather than feeling only shame I felt something else--I guess you could call it pity or even compassion:

I feel more uncomfortable and unsafe and not-at-home at church than I do almost anywhere else.

That's such a strange sentence to write. And I could, if I cared to, explore the history behind that sentence--the different experiences that have led me to both love and hate church.

But right now I'm more interested in this dynamic of feeling comfortable in the discomfort, at-home in the not-at-home, safety in exclusion.

That being loved--actually loved without condition--is excruciating for me.

That being at home--not a stranger, or a guest, or a foreigner--is unthinkably painful and more than I can bear.

My church recently did one of those research surveys, conducted by an external organization that does these kinds of things, to explore our strengths and weaknesses.

The survey found that there was a significant statistical "disappointment gap" between the sense of belonging desired by the people attending and the sense of belonging experienced. I did not fill out this survey. But I can relate. 

I long for acceptance and belonging--the unconditional kind of belonging that I think most people long for. However, I attend a church where this longing goes unmet and denied. 

Just to be clear, I am not blaming the church that I attend for unconsciously or consciously (doubtful) failing to accept me or meet my needs. I'm saying I feel more comfortable living in a space of ambivalence, and so I choose to attend a church where this ambivalence grows and thrives. 

If I'm really, truly honest, I would say I feel more comfortable living in a place of rejection than of love. 

That is so painful for me to write. 

Previous posts: Why is Church Cliquey? & Why is Church Cliquey? Part 2

Next post: "Breaking up with church"

Let's stop shaming people for feeling like outsiders at church

Ah, a subject close to my heart--and all I could come up with is this clunky title:

"Let's"--as if there is a unified "US" that goes around shaming people.

"Stop"--as if I can actually get people to stop doing anything.

"Shaming"--Now there's a strong word.

"People"--Who are these people?

"Outsiders"--Okay. They feel like outsiders in some way.

"Church"--Refer to the unified "US" of the first word.

There's a phenomenon on facebook and elsewhere that I've started to think of as "Push Back." Push back is the "But what were you wearing?" of mildly controversial conversation. Example:

"Some guy grabbed my butt while I was riding the bus."
"Maybe he was just having a bad day and your ass reminded him of home."

Or:

"It can be difficult being a woman in the entertainment industry."
"I was the only man in my women's studies class."

Or:

"I don't feel like I belong at my church."
"Have you tried joining a small group?"

I think that at heart, a push back response is a misdirect. It misses the point and steers the speaker in another direction, like, "Well, have you tried jiggling the handle?" The listener in effect avoids, glosses over, ignores, minimizes, invalidates the original statement

I think the underlying message when it comes to belonging and church is, "It's not okay that you feel this way."

At first, this might not seem like a particularly shaming response. But think about it.

"I don't feel like I belong."
"It's not okay that I feel this way."
"There must be something wrong with me that I feel this way."
"I should stop talking about this because it makes other people upset."

It's a double burden of shame. And to state the obvious, people who already feel like they don't belong are hyper-sensitive to the shame of feeling "Not Ok."

Sometimes the response from the listener seems to be rooted in defensiveness, as in, "How DARE you suggest that my church is anything but welcoming and inclusive!" This response makes a lot of sense. If the identity of the church is rooted in how welcoming or inclusive it appears or feels to others, then any threat to this appearance or feeling will be met with incredulity and even hostility.

This is frustrating. As if no matter how much vulnerability, humility or honesty I express or how much humor I use to deflect the pain, or how much I qualify every statement, or how much credence I give to other perspectives, my story will still not be validated because it falls outside the boundaries of how church wishes to perceive itself.

Some of the things that Jesus says in the New Testament are pretty funny, especially when he's talking to the Pharisees. It's like they're speaking completely different narratives (they are) and Jesus is like, "I know you are, but what am I?"

He just, like, says stuff, and it's awesome.

Anyway, I think I feel like this a lot. As if I'm trying to tell this story and it's not getting through because the other person immediately imposes his story onto mine. There's instant denial, defensiveness, explanation or "Have you tried online dating?"

It's exhausting. I'm tired. I'm very, very tired.

Why is Church Cliquey? Part 2

At the beginning of the year I wrote a post called Why is Church Cliquey?

This is a topic close to my heart. Maybe it's because I've felt like an outsider my whole life, but to me the message of belonging offered by Jesus is too good to be true, too difficult to pass up, and too compelling to ignore. I believe in a God who says,

"You belong to me."

And throughout my life, I've had powerful experiences of love, belonging and acceptance. I've also felt alone, ignored, rejected and depressed.

I've been coming to terms with never feeling fully accepted anywhere or anytime. That being a foreigner runs deep, deep.

So when people responded to "Why is Church Cliquey?" with "No, duh. Church is cliquey because people are cliquey. Deal with it"--

I could feel the anger rising.

For me (and others) there's the strong sense that this is not the way things should be. And this blog post is me saying that this is not the way things should be:

If I'm rejected everywhere else, I should be accepted at church.

If I'm bullied at school, I should be safe in my youth group.

If I feel alienated, lonely, excluded or isolated, I should find radical acceptance in the embrace of my brother, my sister.

If I feel singled out because of my race, gender, culture, nationality, family background or sexual orientation, I should feel like a whole person in the presence of God and his people.

I'm inspired by the insights of one of my friends, whose response I've excerpted below (with permission):

"The problem with church is that one of the major tenets of Christianity is that you are supposed to belong to the group. We're the Body of Christ, therefore we are bound together in some way. It is your 'family.'

"If co-workers reject me, so what, they're the 'world.' If non-Christians reject me, good, it means I am different. If Christians reject me, if I find that I don't belong to that group...where do I go?? I've set my back to the world, picked up my cross to follow Jesus, and am trying to join the others who've done that.

"So when I am in that church lobby with the hundred or so people I know and no one speaks to me or catches my eye or returns my desperate waves as I say goodbye to the air, I care about that rejection in a way that I don't care about when I'm getting coffee in the lunch room and two co-workers are ignoring me, or when the guys at Starbucks aren't saying hello. My faith is on the line. Part of the faith is that I belong. If I don't belong I'm not a real Christian.

"Another tenet of fitting in is wanting to look good. I think that is a big part of the Church--they want to attract people to it, so they showcase the edgy, relevant side of things. They don't want to be 'your mother's church' or even 'your mid-western church.' So the cool kids get center stage--they are the ones in the band, on the stage.

"But most people drawn to Jesus aren't all that together: we're the nerdy ones, the socially awkward ones, the ones that don't fit in with the world and have a hard time adjusting. We're the uncool, and we don't fit in at work, with our families, with the world at large. If we can't fit in at church, we're sunk."

That's the thing about Christianity--it's meant to be radically inclusive.

In Christ there is no Other--neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, popular nor nerdy, cool nor uncool, eastside nor westside, Bruins nor Trojans.

So what can we do if church feels cliquey?

In a city like LA, the most visible Other is the homeless man or woman. [Homeless people often make token appearances in screenplays, short stories, short films, etc. as either wise-beyond-their-social-status, comic relief, or tragic heroes. See also, the Magical Vagrant.] I believe churches (mine included) go out their way to love and care for the most vulnerable population in their midst, which is awesome.

But I think it's possible to look deeper.

First, we can admit that we as Christians seem to value exactly what the world values: good looks, fashion sense, youth, a "promising career," talent, fame, money, good production values, etc.

We can acknowledge that inequality exists in the world. We can acknowledge that racism exists (yes, still). We can acknowledge that sexism exists. We can acknowledge that homophobia exists. We can acknowledge that, yes, sometimes people are discriminated against because of systemic injustice and not because of anything they did wrong.

We can acknowledge that some people struggle with belonging more than others. We can acknowledge that race, gender, nationality, sexual orientation, etc. can influence the extent to which a person is accepted (or feels accepted).

We can stop pretending that when a person walks into a church the way that they look has nothing to do with how they are treated.

Sometimes (speaking as an outsider here), I just want acknowledgment of the reality that though we may all be equal in the eyes of God, we are not all equal in the eyes of that hiring manager, that apartment supervisor, that closed group of friends.

Second, we can ask questions:

Should I be uncomfortable if the church I go to is full of people who look exactly like me?

What do I do when I look around my small group and realize we're all educated 20-somethings with very similar entertainment career aspirations and theological viewpoints?

Who is the "Other" in my life? Who do I avoid?

Third, we can listen.

People feel like they don't belong for a variety of reasons. These reasons can be internal, external, personality-related, rooted in past experiences, etc.

Listen to those on the outside or those who feel like they're on the outside. Don't dismiss their thoughts or feelings about being excluded. Don't tell them that how they feel is wrong. That's not listening.

Don't say, "Maybe you should try harder to make friends." Don't chalk it up to, "Well, that's just the way it is." Don't give advice like, "You shouldn't care so much about what other people think. At least God accepts you." That's not listening.

Just listen. Maybe they have valid concerns about how the church is too white, too hipster, too middle-class. Maybe they have something to say about decades of oppression they feel the church has perpetuated or participated in.

Don't get defensive. That's not listening.

To recap:

Acknowledge.
Ask Questions.
Listen.

Remember what it felt like to be rejected and excluded back in fourth grade. We've all been there. We are all the Other. Who hasn't felt lonely, disconnected, alienated or alone? It's a universal human experience.

I think sometimes it makes us uncomfortable to hear people say that they feel like they don't belong. It's just not done. It's as if we're trying desperately to ward off those traumatic memories from middle school, as if "not belonging" were a contagious disease best quarantined as quickly as possible with denial and Jesus bandaids.

But what if it's okay.

If God is not intimidated by the depth of our need to belong, maybe we can acknowledge, ask, and listen. And offer just a small taste of the belonging and acceptance that is already ours.

Because we belong to God.


Next: Why is church cliquey? Part 3