My counselor regularly reminds me that wounds from relationship are healed only in relationships. Every human on this planet is looking for meaningful connection with other hearts. When those bonds are damaged or severed, our best chance at a holistically healthy life is through safety in other relationships. For those of us who’ve experienced trauma in our family of origin, we rely heavily on our “chosen family” to fill in the canyons eroded by insecure attachment.
Over the last month, podcasters have asked me how I rebuilt my faith after the trauma I experienced at the hands of my (pastor) dad, unsafe churches, and malignant indoctrination. Part of the answer to that question arrives in the process my therapist described of re-secured attachment. I have moved from the faith family I was given to a faith family I’ve chosen.
In particular, my reconstruction has been guided by four categories of voices, examples, and connections in my life.
Winsome Followers
For whatever reason, I’ve been surrounded with a lot of folks who are living imperfect but attractive lives. The Jesus they seem to know resembles the Galilean who attracted the rich and poor, religious elites and outcasts, Jews and Gentiles, men and women, zealots and traitors, the politically connected and the social pariahs. These people suffer well—demonstrating what it is to weep like Mary Magdalene on Jesus’ feet. Their hearts appear to be growing more compassionate with age. Despite challenges and setbacks, they give the impression that Jesus’ yoke is actually as easy as he promised. At different crossroads and enigmas, these souls have pointed me back to the words and example of Jesus—not a church, not a creed, not even the Bible in general.
In short, these friends, mentors, or fellow parishioners move through life with a purpose, an energy, and a contentedness I crave. Their mode of existence proves contagious. They aren’t trying to hoard anything for themselves, because they draw from an infinite supply. Unlike Scrooge McDuck, they welcome everyone to take a dive into a treasure trove of rich experiences and transcendent moments.
Curious Examples
In both the Old and New Testaments, readers are told, “The just shall live by faith.” One of the things I’ve learned as an adrenaline junkie is that I don’t need faith unless I’m currently holding doubts, fears, or both. Certainty (real or faked) stands in the way of the faith necessary to embody our eternal assignment. So, the people with the most faith are the ones who have questions, concerns, or both—and still show up. They’re like the exasperated father who blurted out to Jesus, “Lord, I believe! But help my lack of belief.”
Faith became the truest thing about my life when the people around me demonstrated a candor about where they were struggling to maintain their faith. My ministry leaders and close friends have admitted, “I’m having trouble believing God has good intentions right now.” Seminary-trained voices have told me, “I don’t know.” People who make my heart feel safe have declared, “I used to think [x], but I’ve discovered I had it wrong.” One of my mentors grew up in one religion, reared his kids in another, and now disciples in a third. That was reassuring to me, as I was christened a Roman Catholic, immersed into a cult, and then baptized into my current faith system.
I’ve been surrounded with curious minds, pragmatic souls, and vulnerable hearts. They have freed me from needing to have everything figured out. Many seem to abhor clichés as much as I do. I don’t feel the need to be sure about everything, even in terms of theology. I can just head in the general direction of wholesomeness with good intentions—along with those who are doing the same.
Attuned Listeners
While I figure out a lot of stuff out by trying to write about it, I’m also a verbal processor. I’ve needed to talk out my frustrations, insecurities, enigmas, and wounds with people who gave me long runway to do so. These men and women have looked me in the eyes while I unburdened my soul or looked into the same campfire with me while I unpacked my heart. They’ve nodded, groaned, and interjected acknowledgment of my pain. They’ve asked followup questions that revealed their attentiveness and even challenged patterns of self deception.
I don’t know where I’d be without a trauma-informed, EMDR-certified, licensed professional counselor. I’ve logged more than 200 hours in my therapist’s office after I got the courage to admit I was struggling with suicidal temptations. Lindsey has cried with me and sat in silence with me. She’s let me ramble until I stumbled—finally—into the heart of a matter. She has called me on my spin, dug through my subterfuge, and asked me some of the hardest questions of my life.
These receptive hearts have demonstrated a God who holds my prayers in his hands. These dear souls have shown me the process described in the Bible of the Holy Spirit translating our unintelligible yearnings into Heaven’s language. They’ve reclaimed religious spaces from the abuse of my youth, turning our shared circles into the safest places I can experience.
Thoughtful Skeptics
Every faith environment has a tendency to fold inward, to let myopia and camaraderie keep critique at bay. Group think forms. Circular logic takes over. A dichotomy arises: insiders and outsiders. If this entropy isn’t interrupted, questions can become irritants.
While there are voices who’ve spoken into my life for almost two decades, I’ve acclimated to the amount of fresh faces that join them for short seasons. In addition to this assortment of embodied perspectives, I’ve also welcomed a diversity of voices into my life through nonfiction books and thoughtful podcasts. Questions arrive from all of the above but especially from the professional engineers in my life—of whom there are many. These buddies are constantly testing assumptions and constructs, motives and outcomes. Not all of these askers share my faith, but they don’t need to agree with me in order to lead me to introspection and reevaluation.
I’ve prayed with people even in the middle of a debate. Rather than seeing pushbacks as attacks, I’ve learned it’s true that “iron sharpens iron.” Sometimes, I change another’s mind. Sometimes, they change mine. Sometimes, we agree to give each other grace despite us not agreeing. I’ve had all three of these conclusions with my own pastors. And I’m better for it.
I don’t know if this list is prescriptive for any reader or just descriptive of my faith experience. What I do know is that none of us can have a healthy relationship with Jesus and his church unless we have healthy relationships with other people who have (1) our best interest at heart and (2) an eternal kingdom in mind. I’ve learned that wisdom arrives in unexpected places and that friendship sometimes forms between unlikely connections.
I’d love to hear if and how your list differs from mine.
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Stock images purchased from iStockPhoto.com
