Hurt in the Church

Kendall Smith, No-Div

Kendall is an elementary science teacher and an avid lover of books, nature, and long walks. She is easily distracted by thunderstorms and loves a good conversation over coffee.

Today, we’re going to travel back in history to the year 1993-ish.  I was twelve years old. My parents had a church meeting, therefore, I’d be home alone. (Honestly, my siblings might have been there, too, but I have no idea.)  I was allowed to watch TV, so I turned it on. I feel the need to explain this here, so we’ll take a break from the story to explain “turning on the TV” for those of you who are younger than 35. “Turning on the TV” entailed pressing the power button (with our finger on the actual TV) fifteen minutes early. Trust me, it needed that time for the static to clear. Then we waited a few minutes for the screen to turn from sideways to right-side up. (If it didn’t on its own, you just hit it on the side and top a few times). Finally, just as the clock struck 7, the TV was ready to go. I began scrolling through the (8) available channels to see what was on. (It wasn’t a Friday, otherwise TGIF would’ve been a no-brainer) I’m sure there were several shows that I could have chosen, but there was also an agreed-upon list of shows that were not appropriate for a 12-year old to watch.  Beverly Hills 90210, with its sexually-charged drama and adult themes, was on this list.  But for whatever reason, that particular night I made the rebellious choice to watch the Show Which Was Forbidden.  

A few hours later, my parents were home and I was in bed.  But I had this nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I knew I had done the wrong thing.  I had broken the trust my parents had in me.  This stomachache was evidence that something was wrong and needed repairing.  So I mustered up the courage to do the right thing and, as uncomfortable as it was, walked out of my bedroom, into the dining room, and confessed to my mom that I had watched Beverly Hills 90210.  Now before you begin to form a picture in your mind of an adolescent Kendall with a halo, let me assure you, this is the story I tell because it is the only time I actually willingly confessed to something.  (Most of the time when I beat up my siblings I denied it)

But it makes a point:  I could have ignored the red flags my body was raising–the pit in my stomach, the racing heart.  I could have forced my way into restless sleep.  I could have kept that secret from my mom and all would have been fine…at least externally.  But even as a child, I knew that that stomachache meant something.  

Red flags are a physiological gift from God. They alert our bodies that something is wrong. Whether it be a physical issue or an emotional or relational one, pain and discord are most often expressed in our physical bodies. Therefore, we would be wise to develop a habit where we pay close attention to that. In fact, there is a tremendous amount of research coming out that expresses the reality that painful experiences like hurt, trauma, guilt, shame, toxic stress and anger live in the body until they are dealt with well.  Books like The Body Keeps the Score , The Wisdom of Your Body and many others are contributing to this wide collection of knowledge that we, as a society, are beginning to understand better.  As a teacher, this understanding is vital, as we think about Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.  Children (and adults!) will not be in a place to learn if their most basic needs— belonging, safety, connection, sleep, hunger, thirst—are not met.  That’s why you might be noticing that, in public schools, much of our work has been recognizing that our primary job is to help students with their social and emotional needs, as pushing on to the “real learning” will be fruitless if the basic needs are unmet. Anyway, I digress…

The point is, we don’t grow out of red flags. In fact, as a maturing, whole individual, we learn to pay closer attention to them. Even now, red flags for me include a headache (stress!), stomachache (worry or anxiety), racing heart (nervous or scared), and that pit-in-my-stomach feeling (I did something wrong and need to ask forgiveness).  These flags are only effective if 1) I am giving myself space to actually notice the sensation and 2) am committed to paying attention to it.  If either of those is missing, then I charge ahead–ignoring pain and exhaustion and sensations… and I’ll bet you can guess how well that goes.  Maybe you’ve experienced that, too?

I recently heard the author of The Wisdom of Your Body, Dr. Hillary L. McBride in an interview. She asked two questions that caught my attention. First, “What is happening to [our society’s] ability to feel feelings?” The second question is related, but to me, is a question that the Church would do well to begin asking: “What does it mean to be a body in this day and age?” Now, she was asking this on a personal level, but I don’t think it’s a stretch to ask this for the entire Body of the Church. What does it mean to be a Body? or even The Body? Do we notice red flags that signal unhealth in our churches? Are we even attuned to that? Robert Banks writes, “God’s intention is not the fashioning merely of mature individuals but of mature communities as well.”

Tyler recently sprung a word on me that I didn’t know, and then strongly encouraged me to look it up. (I’ll show my age again by telling you that I literally dusted off my behemoth Merriam-Webster to find the definition…)

I looked up the word he’d used: 

Obdurate.  1a. Stubbornly persistent in wrongdoing. b. Hardened in feelings.  

2. Resistant to persuasion or softening influences.  

Well, that’s a downer of a word, isn’t it? I would imagine that if I took a poll, no one would want to be characterized by that word.  But many of us–intentionally or unintentionally–could find areas of our life where obdurate might describe us.  As my brother and I were talking about this word, I noticed that two entries later was the word obedient. That word has a markedly different tone:

Obedient. Submissive to the restraint or command of authority: willing to obey. 

In the synonyms portion of that definition, we read that it is like amenable which suggests a willingness to yield or to cooperate either because of a desire to be agreeable or because of a natural open-mindedness.

Maybe you know where I’m going with this. But if you don’t, here’s why this matters: my fear is that the Church today can be characterized more often by the word obdurate than obedient. I don’t believe it’s because we (the Church) are a rebellious body of believers who refuse to do the right thing. In fact, I think the very opposite! We (the Church) are a body of believers who deeply desire to follow Jesus and love others around us well. That is our call. We are (hopefully) being discipled in this way.

But do we have safeguards in place in case we are not? Do we have a system to recognize the red flags that might be popping up? Are we asking about the ways we might be unhealthy and are not even realizing it?

As I reflect on what it might mean to be a healthy, maturing Body of Christ, these questions come up:

-Does our church shape and form us, as individuals, to be humble and repentant?  

-Does our church create space to be reflective, to consider our own impact–for good and for bad–in our community?

-Is our church body being discipled towards corporate repentance?  Do our leaders lead us as a body to acknowledge our own wrongdoing as a church, seek out forgiveness and reparations, and express lament at our collective sin?  Do we even acknowledge that we might be contributing towards the hurt of others?

-Are we paying attention to those in our Body who are hurting?  What about those in our Body who hurt outside the walls of the church? Have we listened to their stories of pain?  Asked about why they have walked away?  Or do we shrug our shoulders and assume “it’s their problem”?  

These questions force us to 1) acknowledge that there is pain and hurt in our churches and 2) also give us a way to begin to feel that pain alongside those hurting. “Church should be a celebration”—yes! (I hear that often.) But love rejoices in the truth (1 Cor. 13:6) and not just the comfortable truths. To be a healthy and whole body, we also have to stop long enough to feel the pain and hurt that is present. We humble ourselves and ask for forgiveness and repent of our attempts to avoid pain. We listen to those in our Body who hurt and we sit with them. And when we’ve caused or contributed to this hurt, we repent and seek forgiveness. In this way, we are being formed into a more mature body. Maybe this is what it looks like to be obedient. Maybe this is how we are discipled in the ways of Jesus.