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"I Cannot Reconcile..": On Religious Trauma
TW: Suicide, Sexual Abuse, Religious Trauma
Shortly after my first suicide attempt, a well meaning Christian dismissed my struggles as an “attitude problem.” The interaction left me feeling despondent to the point that one of my roommates was concerned that I was going to attempt suicide again. He wanted to talk to our boss about my situation. I thought that was a terrible idea, as I did not trust the boss. However, I had gone inside myself, retreating from people because human interaction is harmful when I am depressed. I wasn’t in any kind of shape to advocate for myself. I don’t know why my roommate decided against talking to the boss. I’m glad he didn’t; it would have made the situation worse. After a few hours, I had stabilized enough to function as well as I ever functioned during this period.
Recently, a well meaning Christian suggested that my trauma, my history of depressive psychosis, and my suicide attempts were simply the products of an “attitude problem.” This mischaracterization of my issues stirred some memories, new and old. Among the new memories, I recall a meme by Lane Moore that hit me like a freight train when I first read it: “Surviving your abuser didn’t make you a ‘better person,’ going through trauma didn’t ‘make you grow.’ It took away your joy, and your trust, it almost killed you, and it shouldn’t have happened. If you grew or blossomed after, it was despite them.” I have always had problems with the notion that “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” I was never able to articulate my issues with it, but her take made me feel that someone understood me. It also made me consider how much of our suffering is the result of choices people make, such as the decision to bully someone. Should we encourage bullies because they provide opportunities for people to “grow?”
Thinking about this led me to recall an episode of Criminal Minds featuring the character Derek Morgan. While Morgan investigated the disappearances of several women, he met a priest, and could not hide the discomfort and disdain he felt in the priest’s company. When Morgan was a child, he was sexually abused by the director of a youth center. While the abuse was going on, Morgan would pray that it would stop. It did not stop. The priest replied that God does not give us more than we can handle. Morgan said that God asks too much of a thirteen year old kid.
This isn’t far from suggesting, as I have seen some Christians do, that Morgan should be grateful that he was molested, that I should be grateful for the abuse and the trauma that made me suicidal, that we should be grateful in general for the bad stuff that happens to us. I cannot reconcile the idea of a loving God with a God who would put a child in harm’s way to “teach him a lesson.”
I have always been fascinated by the numerous occasions when scientific progress was impeded by the religious beliefs of scientists. Isaac Newton was a man of deep faith who saw, in the laws he discovered, God’s perfect plan for the ordering of the universe. Yet he knew his discoveries did not perfectly describe the orbits of the planets, for example. He attributed this to some human frailty of his and not something God did wrong. It was indeed his belief that time was constant everywhere that caused the problem. The obstacle was resolved when Albert Einstein, also a man of faith, asked, what if God did it differently? This led to his discovery that time isn’t constant, but relative to the observer’s frame of reference, hence the theory of relativity.
In a similar vein, it seems that Christians became confused about what is important in shoring up those who are struggling. I can only imagine that a loving God would recoil in horror at the suggestion that the sexual abuse of a child is something that He intended. Why would a loving God want his followers to justify evil by claiming it was His will? That stance wasn’t helpful to Derek Morgan. His healing began when he confided in his colleagues and they responded without judgement, but with patience, a willingness to listen, and love.
I am not grateful for the trauma I have endured. Rather, I am grateful to my Emotional Support Canadian, who listened without judgement as I described my relationship with an abusive narcissist. It was her willingness to understand and genuinely engage in a dialogue about what I had experienced that helped me heal. The Christians who dismissed the pain of nineteen year old me as an “attitude problem” tore my wounds open and left them bleeding as they departed to pass judgement on someone else’s failings. I didn’t have the words back then to express how hurtful that was and how much such experiences have alienated me from religion generally.
The therapist I worked with the longest was a man of faith. However, he was more interested in religion’s capacity to help people live, rather than its concern with what happens when we die. His outlook was similar to Leo Tolstoy’s, who once said that he felt better about his life when he believed that there was a God who expected things from him. But a religion cannot help people live if it is steeped in mysteries that are beyond our understanding. Before we part ways, I leave you this question: Is it more likely that a loving God would want his followers stumbling in confusion as they contemplate the mystery of why He allowed one child to be raped while sparing another? Or is it more likely that a loving God doesn’t harm anyone, and expects his followers to help people who are suffering, without condemnation, but with compassion and a genuine willingness to understand?
#Suicide #Depression #Trauma #PTSD #MentalHealth #Disability
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