I’m a sexual assault survivor. I’m also a pastor. But before I became a pastor, I sat in church for years, positioned in its pews but never hearing my deepest issues addressed from the pulpit. I could deal with forgiving my abuser because he was an identifiable person. I could direct my anger and unforgiveness at him and articulate how he had violated me to start my path to forgiveness and healing (Matthew 18:15-17). But what happens when you feel an organization—the Church—or a generation has failed you by not addressing the issues that traumatize your soul and entangle your mental health?
How do you handle the Church, the place of healing, not addressing the issues that buffet your mind and emotions—issues that are so real they sometimes feel like a brazen battalion whose single mission is to break you into pieces? Where do you start the journey to forgive the Church for remaining silent because an issue is taboo and not addressing what’s trying to kill you? To whom do you direct that anger and frustration?
Where do you start the journey to forgive the Church for remaining silent because an issue is taboo and not addressing what’s trying to kill you?
I don’t ask these questions as a church basher. I’m a Jesus-lover and believe in the Church. Still, many who need Jesus don’t come to church because of these questions. And that means they need answers.
I also believe that you can speak truth to the Church and love the Church, because sometimes loving means speaking. This means you “speak truth to power” even when the power is the Church. It also means her leaders need to hear and respond. “Speak the truth in love” is a phrase from Ephesians 4:15 that, in its context, it implies that once we have been equipped by church leaders and are no longer immature, doctrinally unsound, or moved by people’s deceitful reasonings, we will be able to speak hard truths—truths for which we may be persecuted or misunderstood—in love.
Speaking hard truths to the Church is not new. Paul confronted Peter because he ate with Gentiles only when Jews were not around but shunned them when Jews showed up. This is how Paul explained it. “When Cephas [Peter] came to Antioch, I [Paul] opposed him to his face, because he stood condemned. For before certain men came from James, he used to eat with the Gentiles. But when they arrived, he began to draw back and separate himself from the Gentiles because he was afraid of those who belonged to the circumcision group. The other Jews joined him in his hypocrisy, so that by their hypocrisy even Barnabas was led astray” (Galatians 2:11-13, brackets added). Paul, a leader, confronted another leader, Peter, because it was an issue that was affecting how Gentiles were treated by the Church—hypocrisy was spreading. Paul didn’t avoid that hard conversation; he called Peter out for his hypocrisy. He spoke the truth in love and went further to say, “There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28).
Paul’s example is instructive when it comes to addressing the Church and issues that traumatize people’s souls and mental health. To start the journey to forgiveness, we must speak the truth—in love. And someone who represents the Church, a leader, must listen.
To start the journey to forgiveness, we must speak the truth—in love. And someone who represents the Church, a leader, must listen.
Because I’m a pastor and a survivor, I’ve been blessed with opportunities to speak and to listen. I’ve had to speak to other leaders, and I’ve had to listen to wounded church members in counseling. Sitting on either side of the table isn’t exactly pleasant. But it is necessary for the Church to become the healing center it’s supposed to be. Both sides of the table must be open to hear the truth spoken in love and engage in hard conversations.
This is a necessary step, and some would argue it’s the first step. I used to think so too. But despite not hearing issues related to my abuse addressed in church sermons, I discovered God’s relevance in healing my abuse, trauma, and triggers through the Scriptures. Sadly, that discovery hasn’t happened to every believer who needs it, and I was hungry to talk about it. But those of my generation and church background were not. So I learned there are pre-steps necessary for hard conversations.
To affect fruitful change, we must prepare ourselves for these hard conversations with an understanding of other perspectives.
I didn’t understand or agree with my generation’s and church’s reluctance to have these conversations, but I needed to take time to understand it. I could speak the truth about the issues, but I couldn’t do so in love because I lacked empathy for their perspective. Some were leery of the Church and mental health worlds intersecting, arguing that psychological practices are grounded in ungodly principles and approaches contrary to Scripture. They didn’t want to violate their understanding of Scripture—not because they didn’t care but because they didn’t want to offend God. Some also felt mental illness was always associated with demons, and since they were not comfortable casting out demons, they avoided the issue altogether. And, even generally speaking, it was taboo to discuss mental health. No one wanted to be associated with the hidden segment of society locked behind the walls of mental health wards and wings that were sometimes called the “crazy house.” That was the stigma that shame and lack of understanding had created. All these reasons and more made many people from my generation and church background avoid connections between the mental and the spiritual and avoid some conversations that mattered. I now understand that many were in angst and ambivalence—not apathy.
To affect fruitful change, we must prepare ourselves for these hard conversations with an understanding of other perspectives.
But my perspective was different and equally important for consideration. From my experience and on behalf of my generation, I was thinking: If Jesus saved my soul and can transform my mind, isn’t He relevant to their broken and abused places? Why is it taboo to get help for my soul’s wounds in the same place I experienced its salvation—the Church? And can’t mental health issues be related to spiritual ones? I wasn’t the only one contemplating these questions; the changes and trends we see in today’s Church reflect that.
While still taboo in some cultures and churches, issues related to mental health, abuse, trauma, and triggers are increasingly becoming the focus of church ministries, sermons, and cell groups in others. Those from church backgrounds like mine and older generations should understand that Biblical counseling and approaches to mental health are on the rise. And that trend seems necessary if the Church is to heal former missteps in these areas and understand the perspectives of Gen-Zers and subsequent generations.
Reports suggest that Gen-Zers are more likely to seek mental health help than any other generation.[1] I am a mother of a Gen-Zer and have counseled Gen-Z parishioners. They are often the first to raise mental health concerns in our sessions. During a 2021 comedy set about America having a military draft, John Crist imitated a recruiter. He jokingly asked a Gen-Zer, “Have you ever been shot?” His response as a twenty-five-year-old recruit—“No, but I’ve been triggered.” Crist turned reality into comedic material. And while it’s important to laugh at ourselves, the subject is serious. Some have even said the Gen-Z generation is the most triggered we’ve ever seen.
While it’s easier for the Church’s older generations to criticize, we should pause to consider their perspective, experience, and reasons for seeking so much help. Is it possible that our generation’s secrecy left the younger with a lot of baggage, and that we carry many of the same wounds as the younger? If we respond to another generation’s mental health issues as if we are so far removed when we still carry our own wounds isn’t that hypocrisy? The same kind of hypocrisy that Paul confronted Peter about—speaking the truth in love on behalf of a generation of Gentiles that would come after him.
It’s important for today’s Church to understand that there are generations coming, and they are not suppressing their issues. They are willing to seek help when older generations wouldn’t. And the difference, in part, is conversations. Gen-Zers are willing to have conversations that the Church has historically avoided. They are willing to confess their missteps and exhibit vulnerability, which leads me to the next pre-step necessary for effective hard conversations.
We need to be willing to confess our faults to have hard conversations.
While “confessing our faults that we may be healed” begins with individuals, it has larger implications (James 5:16). I had to confess my anger and negative emotions against my sexual assault perpetrator; if I hadn’t, it would have had greater effects on my children and future generations. Similarly, when Paul confronted Peter, it wasn’t only about him individually but how what Peter was doing influenced other believers and the Church—the body of Christ. Older and younger generations of church leaders and members must be willing to confess their faults—their missteps and collective missing of the mark—for the Church to own its historical mistakes in engaging with trauma and mental health issues. It must start with the Church being willing to talk about it and (collectively) admit our past failures in this area.
We need to be willing to confess our faults to have hard conversations.
Confess to one another therefore your faults (your slips, your false steps, your offenses, your sins) and pray [also] for one another, that you may be healed and restored [to a spiritual tone of mind and heart]. The earnest (heartfelt, continued) prayer of a righteous man makes tremendous power available [dynamic in its working]. (James 5:16 AMPC)
While the Church may have been missing the mark, psychologists and psychiatrists opened their doors to conversations—without the Bible. Where else would people go if the Church was unwilling to conversate? And the Church was not oblivious. Leaders, members, and onlookers were aware of the ills that plagued its people. Some have seen the need, searched the Scriptures for answers, or partnered with Biblical or Christian counselors. Yet depending on the culture or denomination, many are still unwilling to engage.
Some onlookers, however, have been speaking without a response from the Church. For example, actress Jennifer Lewis of Beaches, Boston Legal, Black•ish, and more, frequently shares that she was molested by a pastor in interviews and in her memoir. Wouldn’t it be better if we [the Church] spoke up and started engaging in these conversations, confessing that we’ve not always gotten it right? Isn’t James 5:16 telling us that healing can come from conversations?
And why don’t we engage? Is it because we’ve closed our eyes or lack understanding of the issues? It may be a bit of both. However, at least to some degree, someone must force the Church’s eyes open, and we should thank the emerging generation for being catalysts.
With preparation, willingness to confess our missteps, and love in our hearts, we must further the conversations Gen-Zers have started, knowing that abused, traumatized, and triggered parishioners sit in our church pews and are increasingly seeking help.
Here are some guiding principles that can help our hard conversations.
First, let’s agree that mental health issues are present in the Bible, making them worthy of discussion in church settings. Yes, the Scriptures are vivid—laden with examples of abuse, trauma, and triggers, and we need to know they are there. We may not be comfortable with labeling them as “mental health” examples. But whether we call it being hard-pressed, suffering, tribulation, affliction, sorrow, grief, or mourning, we would be using terms from both the Bible and mental health practice.
[M]ental health issues are present in the Bible
Jacob’s daughter, Dinah, was raped by a prince (Genesis 34). David had to pretend he was insane to save his life (1 Samuel 21), had a child who died prematurely, and his daughter, Tamar, was raped by his son (2 Samuel 13). Moses was so hard-pressed and stressed—mentally and spiritually bombarded—that he asked God to kill him, saying, “If this is how you are going to treat me, please go ahead and kill me—if I have found favor in your eyes—and do not let me face my own ruin” (Numbers 11:15). Indeed, abuse, trauma, and triggers are in the Bible. No believer should bear their burdens without knowing the Scriptures are relevant.
Second, the Bible also holds insights into solutions to the mental health issues it presents. The mental and the spiritual inform each other. Jacob pursued reconciliation and honor for his survivor daughter, seeking to make her a bride—instead of a widow. God’s response to Moses’s stress and suicidal thoughts was to get help from community. He instructed Moses to bring seventy elders who could help him bear the burden with him. Acquainted with anger, David discovered he needed to pause, meditate on God’s word, and consider the root causes for his anger, saying, “Be angry [or stand in awe] and sin not; commune with your own hearts upon your beds and be silent (sorry for the things you say in your hearts). Selah [pause, and calmly think of that]!” (Psalm 4:4 AMPC) If we [the Church] don’t join the conversation, these valuable insights will not reach those who need them.
Third, hard conversations succeed when those in dialog recognize and embrace a shared purpose. As a survivor and pastor, I once needed and now want to see holistic healing for others—spirit, soul, and body. I believe spiritual and mental health practitioners have a shared purpose—healing the whole person. If we can approach conversations agreeing on that shared purpose, the dialog may generate more successful resolutions. Likewise, if younger and older generations can embrace a shared purpose, we may be better positioned to bridge generational divides on these issues.
[I]f younger and older generations can embrace a shared purpose, we may be better positioned to bridge generational divides on these [abuse and mental health] issues.
For both the individual and the Church, it’s crucial to recognize the Scripture’s relevance to mental health issues and engage the hard conversations. My healing journey began with the Scriptures and sharing my story with others. Conversations—ones where we speak the truth in love and acknowledge our missteps—are crucial for healing. If we talk more—engage in more conversations—to contribute a Biblical perspective, chances are we will reach more people with Jesus’ healing power and help others see the relevance of the Church to these important issues. Where we’ve already started, let’s keep talking, and let’s start talking where we haven’t. With the right preparation and approach, we can soften the hard conversations about abuse, trauma, triggers, and the Church.
[1] St. Bonaventure University, “How Gen Z is Changing the Conversation on Mental Health,” accessed April 12, 2023, https://online.sbu.edu/news/gen-z-mental-health#:~:text=As%20Gen%20Zers%20speak%20more,the%20importance%20of%20mental%20wellness.
