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Let me start with a story.
It’s a story about me, and how I reacted to a situation in the congregation I serve. But a member of the church is another key character, and as we debriefed this incident, she gave me permission to share it with you. I am so very grateful for her wisdom and thoughtfulness, and her generosity to allow this tale to be told.
Recently during a discussion in our pastors’ Bible study, the conversation turned to the prosperity gospel: that distinctively American heresy that says if you have enough faith, God will bless you with health, wealth, etc.
The Presbyterian Church (USA) is not a prosperity gospel denomination, and our congregation is not a prosperity gospel church. We know that bad things happen to good people through no fault of their own, and vice versa. We reject the theology wholesale as antithetical to a loving God; after all, if God blesses people who have enough faith, and you experience tragedy, well, you do the math.
We were talking about the prosperity gospel in a rather academic way—or so I thought—when a member of the group piped up, visibly upset. How can we even be talking about this, she said, her voice shaking, tears springing to her eyes. I’m paraphrasing, because what I remember was the emotion, not the words. How can our church even entertain such theology? It’s so harmful. Is this what we believe? No no no, the prosperity gospel is bullshit. (That last part I remember verbatim, because I agree, and that’s 100% the right word for it.)
What would you do in this situation?
I’ll come back to this story later. Spoiler alert: I wish I’d handled it differently.
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Last week I attended a clergy cohort in which we talked about what it means for leaders to be trauma-informed. Trauma has become quite the buzzword lately; the term feels ubiquitous, which can make it seem frivolous and trendy, but the more I learn, the more important and resonant I find it to be. Our cohort’s conversation was helpful but short, just scratching the surface, so I decided to sort out my own thoughts a bit by writing this article. Disclaimer: there are many, many people who have a lot more experience in this area than I do. I am no expert. But it’s something I’ve been thinking a lot about, especially given our family’s experience in recent years (mental illness intersects with trauma, though they’re not equivalent). And it’s of interest as a leader in an organization that genuinely desires to be kind, welcoming, and inclusive.
There are plenty of working descriptions of trauma out there, but I find two to be particularly helpful. The first is from Dr. Gabor Mate, who says that trauma isn’t what happened to you. It’s what happens inside you, as a result of what happened to you. Which is why two people can have similar life experiences but respond very differently.
The second description of trauma comes from therapist Marilyn Williams, who talks about it as a combination of pain and confusion. I wrote about this in Hope: A User’s Manual. An injury or illness may cause physical pain, but when the pain subsides, life often goes back to the way it was. But when that pain is combined with confusion—when a parent abuses a child, for example, or a hurricane or wildfire or global pandemic wreaks havoc on one’s sense of safety and stability, or a siege on a seat of government reveals that our institutions are very vulnerable indeed—trauma can result. The experience is painful, but it’s the cataclysmic assault on one’s equilibrium, one’s very understanding of the world, that tips it over into trauma.
Becoming trauma-informed is a way to be of greater service, comfort, and empowerment to the people in our orbit. Before I offer my own fumbling thoughts on this, let me share two readings.
The first is the article we discussed in that leadership cohort last week, Four ways faith leaders can shift to trauma-informed ministry, written in the Christian Century during the pandemic.
The second is a newsletter from my wise and brilliant friend Troy Bronsink, sent just hours ago: The Bear, and Overwhelm (with info about a coaching cohort to boot!).
With this very long preamble, here are a few suggestions for moving toward becoming a more trauma-informed organization.
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