Trauma and Theology (Part 2 of 2)

Kyle Lincoln
Apr 11, 2020
7 min read

Updated: May 4, 2020

This post reflects theologically on trauma, argues that “trauma therapy" is part of the Church's mission, and explores some challenges and opportunities for those who engage in this work.

In part one of this post, I introduced trauma.

Now for the fun part... theology!

Trauma within the Scope of Creation

The biblical writers understood trauma.

Maybe we think of trauma as a modern concept. Actually, trauma was introduced to the English language in the sixteenth century from biblical Greek. The word is found in both Testaments. One Bible dictionary defines trauma it as a “wound or injury” and suggests that even its earliest uses can include damage to the inner life⁠ [1].

In my first post, I used an image to describe trauma: a stone against broken ice.

But, as with any image, visuals play off our biases. No sooner have we seen this image than the linearity and individuality of the healthcare model starts to work its way into our imagination. How do we fix the broken ice?

This is precisely the wrong sort of question to ask for victims of trauma. Not only do the victims alone set the pace, not only does everyone's story look a little different, but repairing the structure of the ice (the neurobiology) is too small a vision for the Christian because it’s dislocated from the larger story of God’s work.

Perhaps God’s vision isn’t simply to restore, but to transform.

Photo by Hanson Lu on Unsplash

Joining God's Work

One of my foundations for thinking about theology’s voice in discussions about psychological trauma is how central healing is in Scripture, how central it appears to be in God’s interactions with humankind.

God is actively at work, inviting people into his healing presence and working ordinary and extraordinary miracles. Job declares of God, “For he wounds . . . but his hands heal” (Job 5:17-18). During Jesus’ ministry, one function of healing miracles was to illuminate the background work of God (Jesus said “I do what I see my father doing”).

It appears God has a therapeutic program.

What I mean by “program” approaches what missiologists study and seek to join. At various points in Scripture, God mandates, teaches and commissions his people. These divine directives flow from what God is already doing (which flow from his Being) and suggest what God intends to be done for and by his Church, his “hands and feet.” I think of Jesus’ priestly prayer in John 17, a petition for church unity. This prayer longs that the church be one - that it would imitate the unity of the Godhead (what God is already doing in the nature of the Trinity).

The church joins God's work by supporting social workers and mental health professionals, but also by simply existing as God has called it to exist!

Challenges

Still, challenges exist for trauma victims and those who share life with them. Here are just a few that are especially important when thinking about the work of the church:

The Ambiguity of Relationships

Trauma survivors tend to withdraw from relationships. They may struggle to feel safe, to trust others, struggle to relinquish their sense of being “in control.” Survivors often share a set of assumptions that are shaped by their experiences of victimization, which can confuse and push others away. And yet, so much of the Christian life is about the new and the now. Martin Buber once wrote “All real living is meeting”⁠[2]. And so, openness to God’s presence and direction, surrender and vulnerability, shared life in community, the practice of confession, discerning the Spirit, embracing oneself and others as image bearers... these may come as a challenge for survivors of trauma.

The Failure of Language

Trauma survivors may have experienced the failure of language to protect or heal them. If someone has experienced near-death, suffered routine coercion and manipulation, engaged in self-help solutions that proved counterproductive, language isn’t really thought of intuitively as part of the solution. Yet, often healers can carry the assumption that therapy will be found by way of psychoanalysis (talk-therapy). The assumption carries over into the business-as-usual way of church life. Think about how much “talk” happens at church. This is particularly important when thinking about preaching, pastoral care, and other practices of the church that rely upon the efficacy of language. In each of these, language may fail.

Opportunities

With every challenge comes various opportunities or ways to faithfully respond. Here are a few that come to mind:

Finding Ourselves in the Bigger Story

Narrative therapy for trauma survivors can be amazingly helpful. Verbalizing one’s story involves coming out of the shadows, surrendering control through vulnerability, assigning responsibility where it is due, being heard and accepted even while in the healing process. Some say that narrative therapy facilitates a “journey” or transformation in the way we see ourselves, a movement of self-image from victim to victor. For all the good that narrative therapy can do, I believe there is a limitation in this story—which is basically a story of victory over my trauma—in that its reference point is the trauma itself. The whole point of the story is the silencing of the trauma’s reaching voice, the crushing of its powerful grip. Certainly, this narrative is better than one of defeat, but I wonder if the story is too self-referential, too disconnected, too small to contain us. Biblical Theology has a narrative, too, which can enrich and widen one’s therapeutic journey. So can sharing one's experience of it though testimony.

Cultivating Spaces of Meeting

Although initially jarring for those who have experienced distorted relationships, God has claimed ultimate ownership of the exploited. The Heidelberg Catechism calls this our only comfort in life or death. Discovering what it means to be claimed by a God who created a good world is rightly a messy, nonlinear process (especially where emotional withdrawal is the closest one has felt to safety!). And the result may not look like “pre-trauma.” What people experience through trauma can burn a cavity so deep that it actually enlarges their capacity to feel, even to empathize with the experience of God, who has been imagined to be the greatest sufferer. For example, it has been argued that fostering association with the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus can positively support survivors of trauma (especially identification with his suffering). [3].

This process is not something for the church to fear. Lament was recently described as “what happens when people ask, ‘Why?’ and don’t get an answer” [4]; I’m not sure we have a word in our dictionaries for what happens to a community that laments before God!

Leaning into Brokenness

God meets his creation in various ways. Liturgists and worship planners have leaned into this understanding as they explore the dialogue of being called by God into worship, of telling God our shortcomings, being assured of our basis for hope, of hearing God’s word preached, responding in song, and of being sent into the world. It’s in coming to God in brokenness that brings hope. I find theologian Henri Nouwen’s language that we are all “wounded healers” to be pertinent. It takes contextualization and creativity, but churches can engage in cultivating spaces of engagement—in worship, in group Bible study, in testimony, in service, during Holy Week on days like Holy Saturday—that can heal and transform.

Practices Beyond Language

No one is saying language isn't important. Really, the more time you spend with someone the more that relationship will shape the words you use. It's absolutely fitting to change your language with sensitivity if the meaning you intend is routinely taken some other way. Language is important and the spoken practices of lament, confession, and reconciliation foster healing and provide points of contact to listen and reflect, to bear the burdens of others, and grieve [5]. But there are things the church does that are not language heavy that can be formative modes of discipleship.

The practices of the church—those things church people do together like baptism, singing, funerals and more—can be a way to engage those for whom the power of language has dulled. Here the church can look to things like silence and meditation, safe and consensual embrace, the sacrament of communion, the use of symbol, and service.

Photo by Kenny Luo on Unsplash

The Mission Field of the 21st Century

In the background of the gospel is a true story that the cosmos has experienced pervasive disruption and brokenness (perhaps, the Cosmic "trauma"). The gospel is the counter-story of hope: of God making promises, disrupting entropy, sowing seeds of redemption and reconciliation, and inviting people to wait expectantly and join his work towards the new creation.

The gospel claims that in God’s timing all things will be made new, including the hearts and minds of those who suffer greatly. Though the world now groans like a woman in labor (the Bible actually says that!), hope for the new lies at the heart of the Christian faith. The promise is put this way: “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain” (21:4).

And God uses his church, his people, along with medicine and common wisdom to bring about healing. The flip side of Jesus' promise to clear our tears is that until then suffering remains, trauma remains, but we are called to approach God in his goodness anyway.

Before, I get carried away singing "Soon and Very Soon," it is important to be clear. A lot of trauma victims wouldn't be caught dead in a church. Perhaps it's the fear that church could be a potentially embarrassing environment (those with trauma may not be able to control their responses as they re-live memories in a new environment). Perhaps, it is fear of the unknown. Perhaps it's one of the challenges listed above. Perhaps it's the church's failure to see with the eyes of Christ or know how to respond. Perhaps people are lacking an invitation.

A final word: For those who feel tentatively about the good that God and church will do for those with trauma. Surely, we have a God who can empathize with our suffering, a God who seeks us, a God who wants to know us intimately.

Just to set the record straight the church needs trauma survivors. God's people need the sensitivity and wisdom brought by experience and trials. God's people need people that need God.

This is the mission field, both inside and outside the church.

Contact: kylejordanlincoln@gmail.com

References

James Strong, A Concise Dictionary of the Words in the Greek Testament and The Hebrew Bible (Bellingham, WA: 2009), 72.

Martin Buber, Ich und Du (trans. I and Thou) (Leipzig: Insel Verlag, 1923), p. 11.

For example, Joni Sancken makes this argument in "When Our Words Fail Us."

N.T. Wright, "Christianity Offers No Answers About the Coronavirus. It's Not Supposed To." Time.com. https://time.com/5808495/coronavirus-christianity/ (accessed April 10, 2020).

See the website http://www.practicingourfaith.org for starters of the Christian Practices.

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are my own and do not necessarily reflect the views and opinions of other Therapy and Theology contributors.

#KyleLincoln #TraumaTheology