Tag Archives: Lament

Am I doing this trauma healing thing right? Part 2, Myths about healing that hinder recovery


In my previous post, I explored how chronic trauma responses lead many of us to think we are doing something wrong and are the reason why we are not getting better fast enough. We named some foundational principles for recovery, landmarks by which to navigate the journey of healing.

  1. Take care of your body.
  2. Look for stability in a triggering world.
  3. Begin (again and again) to tell the story of you.

These three steps are seemingly simple and yet they take every fiber of our being and the help from friends to keep fighting for healing day after day.

Unfortunately, there are some beliefs about healing—myths—that can hinder our recovery journey. As you read my shortlist of 4 misguided views about suffering and healing, consider what beliefs and ideas you have had about healing (or heard from others) that might create an extra barrier in your own journey.

Myth: Complete healing is possible and likely

There is a myth that healing from trauma means that I will no longer be bothered by things that used to trigger me. Healing means, in this belief, that memories will not be painful or show up at surprising times. If I continue to have triggers, these reactions are signs of failure to heal, to trust, to have faith in God.

Sadly, I see many who have found considerable healing after trauma to believe this because they have surprising triggers that knock them off their feet from time to time.

Consider this analogy, Your body has changed as much as if you were hit by a car. If you had been an elite athlete prior to the accident, you might need to accept you could no longer be an athlete as a result. It would not be a sign that you had failed to heal but that in healing, life is now different. When we believe that something is wrong with us since we bear scars (e.g., trauma triggers, bodies that are on higher alert, limitations to what we can now do) we add to our pain by accusing ourselves of not healing.

It doesn’t help when we see others who seem to have found more healing. Stories of “heroes” like Corrie Ten Boom or Malala Yousafzai seem to tell us that some people are truly healed. And since we know we are not, there must be something wrong with us. Truth? While post-traumatic growth is a real thing, there is ample evidence that these heroes still suffer with their invisible wounds. Growth does not eliminate injury.   

Myth: Healing should mean no longer in grief

Grief and growth will co-mingle, and one does not eliminate the other. Loss is loss. When we experience trauma, we also suffer loss. And loss means grief. These losses include safety, predictability, identity, voice, as well as other more physical and spiritual losses. We may lose family members, community, and capacities we once had (recall the elite athlete image above).

We don’t imagine that if you lost a close loved one that you should no longer feel something when reminders of their loss are present. Grief shows up like waves at the ocean. They may be big and knock us down. They may be small and less obvious to us. No matter the size, they are always present. And something will likely trigger a larger wave when we least expect it.

Myth: My faith should be able to be what it was

The story of you has changed as a result of trauma. It impacts every part of your story, including your faith and spiritual experiences. By every definition, you are now different because your story includes something that is difficult, if not impossible, to integrate into the way life was or is supposed to be.

Consider the Psalmist in the Bible. Psalm 42 and 43 tell us this fact in poetic form. The writer struggles to make sense of the loss of his capacity to lead the worship procession. He remembers how led the way to worship but now all he feels is isolation and the sting of those who mock him. He cannot find his way back to who he was and his efforts to press himself to trust God seem not to work. In the end, he is left with big questions for God.

If your trauma happened within your faith community, you may not be able to return or to worship in the same way. Even if you do return to your faith community, joy will likely be tinged with grief. Because you, like the psalmist, are trying to integrate a new disconcerting reality into your story. This new struggle is not a sign of failure to heal. It is a sign that things are now different. And remember, this struggle does not mean you do not have faith or trust God. The act of lament is just as faithful and worshipful as singing praise songs with a crowd. (To read more about lament, try this short essay.)

Myth: Suffering is God’s way of strengthening me

A common myth in Christian circles is that God has some master plan that includes suffering and without it, God could not prepare you for greatness or strengthen you. I see this myth at play when people minimize their suffering and try to whitewash it with phrases like, “but it is all for the glory of God.” Yes, God does get glory when his people seek him and honor him. And, suffering may indeed strengthen new parts of your being, in time. You may thank God for his presence in suffering and for his various ways of showing up in hard times. You may find hidden treasures in dark places (Is 45:3) and discover new strengths you did not know you had.

However, God’s heart for hurting people tells us that suffering is NOT his master plan. When suffering entered the world, God’s master plan was to pursue lost people (Gen 3:9, 21) and to care for them.

Suffering is suffering. Evil is evil. It is never good even if you find something good along the way to recovery. And no such positive outcome dismiss the suffering you have gone through. Our pain and our healing is not some balance sheet looking for a positive tally.

What are some of your beliefs that add to the pain and shame you are now experiencing? What can you release or begin to doubt? If you have a close friend who will listen and ask good questions, consider talking to them about some views on healing that might be holding you back.

A final thought about healing

Healing happens little-by-little. Of course we want it to happen now. You are not alone to long for more healing and less pain. There are things that can help and we will cover that in a future post in this series. I want to leave you with a garden analogy. In front of my office, there has been a lovely Japanese Maple tree. The leaves have been exquisite every fall. But this year, a big portion of it died and so had to be cut down. The spot there is now bare. I feel it’s absence every day. the building looks exposed now. Some small shrubs have been planted in the spot and lovely as they are, they cannot replace what was lost. And yet, when I stand there, I can see small growth and beauty of a different kind. The story of the building is certainly different. I see the stump and the growth that is happening.

You are a garden that had many beautiful things in it. Something happened to the garden of you and now the losses overwhelm any sense of goodness. You must now reconsider what the garden will be like going forward. Give yourself time to grieve what is no more and take time to notice what life is possible in you.

What’s next?

In part 3, we will explore another barrier we face on this journey of healing: the harmful actions of “helpers” and guides. We will look at some red flags you might see in your counselors, therapists, and spiritual guides.

Read more about healing on this site using the search bar. Try this video. Reconsider the language of healing. Would “integration” be a better way to describe recovery after trauma?

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A time to lament? Try this tool


If you are like me, you experience life now as an ongoing season of upheaval and distress. Between the pandemic’s staggering death count and losses and the racial wounds and ideological rifts we face each day, who doesn’t feel the crushing weight of pain? Yes, the outcome of the George Floyd trial and the success in vaccinating millions of Americans is a move in the right direction–and yet, even successes can trigger more grief. Just ask anyone who lost a loved one. When a new positive event takes place, it can sometimes trigger a shockingly deep wave of grief and loss. There is a lot of evidence that the way of grief and loss is just now really breaking on us like a tidal wave.

Have you ever wanted to an audience with God to tell him of your unspeakable pain? You are not alone. Job did. The Psalmists did. Jesus, the son of God, even did. We have their complaints and laments recorded for us to read and emulate. And since they are recorded in Scripture, we can accept that God invites us to make these cries known to him and to our neighbors.

If you want some help in writing a lament to express your pain to God and to your friends, consider using this new tool just created by the Trauma Healing Institute at American Bible Society. I want to point out a simple and free download where you can do this. Hear how the creators describe the need to lament:

In moments when human dignity is being diminished and violated…When safety and justice feel forgotten or impossible to find…When we feel like we cannot take another step…


Our pain is not a burden to God. God is present.


In times such as these, we here at the Trauma Healing Institute have just launched the new, free, easy-to-use Trauma Healing Basics resource: How to Lament.

This resource is a blueprint for honest prayer in times of great turmoil. God is waiting for us to pour out our hearts. Crying out to God with honesty in times like these is a form of worship; instead of turning away, we open ourselves to God. This little tool explains how to do it.

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Speaking of tragedy can be the start of hope


Just finished listening to Krista Tippett interview Bryan Doerries in her latest On Being episode. Well worth your time if you have the chance to hear it. The discussion centers on the need to speak and name suffering, especially that suffering which leads to moral distress and feelings of shame. To tell without “whitewashing” requires both teller and listener to talk about things they would rather not discuss. Honest telling and honest listening are necessary. Blinders and self-deception of both teller and listener must fall to the ground without defensive response. The telling that leads to healing is not merely voicing pain–though that can be helpful–but having the audience be impacted and to acknowledge their own action, inaction, blindness in situations that led them to feel similar feelings as the one who was narrating the story.

We begin to hope when we see we are not alone. We begin to hope when we do not need to shrink back from the ongoing pain in our lives.

Bryan is the creator of Theater of War, a production company and public health initiative that brings together Greek tragedies and town hall discussions exploring social challenges of today. He reveals how he ended up working with Greek tragedies to create space for people to talk about things they normally hide. He spoke of the death of his girlfriend,

…when she died, the thing that actually hurt the most wasn’t her loss, it was the fact that nobody wanted to talk about it. And the more I tried to talk about all these things I had observed and experienced, not just in her dying but in the months leading up to it, the more people seemed to recoil. And it took me about a hundred performances of Theater of War and some of our other projects to realize that, at a very core level, the work that I’ve been doing for the last 12 years has been about creating the conditions where people will talk about it.

Quotation from On Being interview, published April 2021

One of they key learnings from my work with the trauma healing program is that when communities lament together, when they allow for specific naming of pain suffered by part or the whole of a community, something changes in that community. Bryan articulates the same in his understanding of the purpose of Greek plays,

[The purpose of Greek tragedy is] to communalize trauma, to create the conditions where — the word “amphitheater” in Greek means “the place where we go to see in both directions.” “Amphi-” — I see you, you see me; both directions. “Theatron” — the seeing place. So we go to the amphitheater in the fifth century, B.C., to see each other, to see ourselves; to see that we are not the only people to have felt this isolated or this ashamed or this betrayed — not just because it’s being enacted onstage, but because people around us in this semicircular structure are all validating and acknowledging the truth of what we’re watching.

What is it that is unnamed that needs naming? Doerries identifies the trauma of betrayal as most salient,

...betrayal is the wound that cuts the deepest. You can call it whatever you want, moral distress, moral injury, but really, it’s betrayal — feeling abandoned or betrayed, or betraying oneself and one’s sense of what’s right. 

There are many kinds of betrayals. I’ve written on this site about betrayal trauma that comes with spiritual and sexual abuse and so will not discuss those now. But, one other way we betray each other is to attempt to over-simplify complex and painful experiences of others. Bryan and Krista talk about allowing frontline workers in the pandemic to name their moral distress without responding with a whitewash of hero talk. In recent months I’ve talked with individuals who have expressed guilt/shame over their treatment of sexual minorities in their religious communities. It would be easy for us to offer quick responses depending on our own belief systems. “You were doing the best you knew how, but now you know better.” Or, “You are only feeling this way because a vocal minority is shaming you.” Neither response allows the person to name their pain. And neither response acknowledges that every listener has had similar experiences that they too have not wanted to name.

Creating spaces for tragedies to be told

What can we each do to support the telling of tragedies? We may not be able to put on theater productions or start town-meetings but we can be better friends.

  1. We can ask questions that invite someone who seems to want to tell their tragic tale to continue speaking
    • What did you feel when that happened? How did what happen change you and your perspective?
    • What did you wish your friends knew or would say/do when you were going through that suffering? is there any part of the story you have always wanted to tell but were afraid to do so?
    • When have you felt understood, less alone, even if only for a second?
  2. Without being superficial and without interrupting with your own story, notice where you have felt similar feelings. Where have you felt shame? Betrayed? Isolated? Conflicted? In moral distress? Guilty? Don’t try to erase their feelings but sit with the reality that you too know of what they speak. Don’t rush to change the feelings?
  3. Before your conversation is over (or in another future conversation if more appropriate), ask a couple more questions
    • How have you survived? What is one trait of yours you wish others could see more clearly?
    • How would you like our community/church/setting to respond to you? (Don’t look for solutions and don’t press for action)
    • What if anything gives you encouragement today?

Look for signs of life. Remember that communal healing happens when those who were wounded experience healing and then begin to bring healing to broken systems. The healing of a community does not happen because the healthy do the work. It is because the sick become the healers. Isaiah 61:3b-4 reminds us that when the God heals the broken and the blind,

They will be called oaks of righteousness,
    a planting of the Lord
    for the display of his splendor.

They will rebuild the ancient ruins
    and restore the places long devastated;
they will renew the ruined cities
    that have been devastated for generations.

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Finding hope in a hopeless world


The world has always been falling apart. Well, at least since Genesis 3. But there are times when we are far more aware of just how busted up we are in this world. This is one of those times. Those of us who work in the social services get a front-row seat at seeing individual, family, community, and society level brokenness.

Frankly, this vantage point tempts me to become cynical, skeptical, and in despair. Listen in on some of the thoughts we Christian counselors might have: people don’t change; leaders serve themselves; God doesn’t care… Out of this experiences, counselors may find themselves becoming complacent, settling for palliative care only (vs. recovery), or worse, using clients to sate their own appetites.

So, where do you find hope in an otherwise hopeless world?

Cynicism and skepticism illustrate conclusions we have made about our world. file-nov-28-5-16-13-pmThey illustrate that we have stopped looking for other data. Consider instead these three activities as a reminder and cultivator of the hope available to us:

  1. Waiting and lamenting. I’ve written on this quite a bit over the years. This post was my most recent, but this one and this one may be of use as well. You might wonder whether lamenting leads to more cynicism. But notice that the goal is to actively wait on God for an answer. When we lament in front of God we talk to him about the state of our soul or the state of the world. Waiting requires that we prepare to listen to God’s heart on these same things.
  2. Waiting and looking. This is the season of Advent, of remembering the birth of Jesus, the messiah. †Zechariah, the father of John the Baptist had stopped looking for God to show up. Who can blame him, God hadn’t seemed to show up for a mere 400 years or so. It took being struck silent by an angelic messenger to wake him from his disbelief. Where are you no longer looking for God’s hand in your life? In the world? Look to your present. Ask your friends to tell you where they notice God’s activity. Look to your future, imagine yourself as a child waiting eagerly for Christmas morning. Be like that child and keep talking to God, “Is it Christmas yet?” Look even to the past. See what God has done in your life in the past and let that remind you that he is at work in your present and future. Read Hebrews 11 as a reminder of God’s faithfulness to his people.
  3. Waiting and loving. While we wait, we are not passive! We move and act in love, even when it seems the good we do will not change the outcome. That loving may be acts of palliative care, or it may be an act of planting a dormant seed that one day springs to life and full bloom. This act of loving others grows out of Jeremiah’s lament (Lam 3:21f): because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed. Therefore we recognize that our minuscule capacity to love, to care, even to call others to repentance are all signposts of God’s ongoing love for his people.

Is it crazy to hope in this world? Absolutely. But the signs of birth are around you if you look. Notice in Luke 1 how Zechariah sings of present-tense salvation and redemption, even though Jesus is merely in utero. How much more ought we to be able to hope as we live in the age of the Resurrection.†

†I got these ideas from a sermon preached by Marc Davis on 11/27/16.

 

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Lament During Thanksgiving?


First published November 2013 at www.biblical.edu, this continues to be my primary experience today and so I offer you it again, slightly revised.

Thanksgiving is that time of year when we get together with family to enjoy good food, maybe a football game, and to be thankful for God’s provision during the past year. Sometimes, though, we don’t feel all that thankful. Yes, we recognize that God indeed has given us many good things, things like food, water, salary, housing, and the like. We acknowledge that we have no rights to demand these things. We acknowledge that there are many who are far worse off. Given recent events, we can imagine how much more blessed we are than those who refugees from civil wars in the Middle East.

And yet, despite our knowledge of grace and mercy, there are times when all we notice are the broken things in our lives—our bodies, our families, our communities.

I confess this is my state this Thanksgiving. I won’t bore you with the details but I struggle to stay focused on the many good things God has given me.

But it might surprise you that though I am noticing a lot of brokenness, I am not embittered or angry with God. I am full of lament. I lament the length of time it is taking God to act in some matters. I lament how much active and passive hatred for the other is present, even in there is in our Christian communities! Have we not lost love for those we consider outsiders? I lament that Jesus has not returned and ended death and suffering.

I am thankful for lament

Here’s what I am thankful for. We serve a God who has encouraged us to lament to him. Laments are cries of our heart where we question God (sometimes even accuse as in Psalmfile-nov-19-7-46-37-am 89), cry out for relief, ask for understanding, and grieve over sins done by self and others. Think about this for a moment: what King in all the earth not only invites such communication but even writes words for his subjects? He is not afraid of our questions or our complaints. Giving him such can be an act of worship.

Enter Isaiah 64. Isaiah is a book of confrontation of sin, call for holiness, prediction of judgment, and vision of restoration. In addition, we find windows of Isaiah’s lament for what is going to unfold for Israel. Listen to portions of his lament and some of my commentary:

Oh, that you would rend the heavens and come down, that the mountains would tremble before you! As when fire sets twigs ablaze and causes water to boil, come down to make your name known to your enemies and cause the nations to quake before you.

Ok Lord, act already. Do it! What are you waiting for?

But when we continued to sin against them [the vulnerable, the righteous], you were angry…all of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags…no one calls on your name…you have hidden your face from us and made us waste away because of our sins.

We so deserve your wrath Lord, but we are wasting away here Lord, if you don’t help us!

Yet, O Lord, you are our Father, we are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand. Do not be angry beyond measure O Lord…Oh, look upon us, we pray, for we are your people.

Lord, we know you are our creator. We deserve no special recognition. Yet, remember we are your image bearers. Oh Lord, shape us, don’t destroy us.

Thankful I can vacillate?

Notice how Isaiah 64 and other laments (e.g., Psalm 42-43; Habakkuk, the book of Lamentations) bounce between recalling God’s goodness, questioning his plans, grieving own sin, yet imploring God to vindicate. Are these writers wishy-washy?

I don’t think so. Too often we think the best theology is all neat and tidy:

Problem + Victorious God = No Problem

While this will be true one day, it isn’t yet. And so we lament in vacillating and non-linear ways. Even as we proclaim God’s sovereign power, we also acknowledge that we are in great turmoil. These laments give us examples of how to hold on to our faith even as we have no answer for the moment. We are not required to end on a happy note. Look back at Psalms 42-3. See how the Psalmist cries out in despair, recalls better times, enjoins himself to hope in God, but then again remembers that he is great pain. Notice that neither Lamentations nor Habakkuk end in victory for the “good guys.” Lamentations, like Isaiah 64, ends with a question mark—“if you haven’t forgotten us already?” Habakkuk acknowledges the victory of being able to praise God in a terrible famine, but that doesn’t remove suffering or the reason for the lament in the first place (ongoing sin by Israel and her destruction by a pagan nation).

So, I’m thankful this season that we worship a great God capable of holding our laments and recording our tears. I am thankful that I do not have to pretend all is well for fear God will strike me down. He knows my pain. He has suffered in every way and so is a High Priest who can relate to my feelings of abandonment. And he is working for our future Good. But for now, I can lament that it (victory) hasn’t arrived in its fullest form and take comfort in a more realistic equation:

Problem + Presence of God = I Lament and am Not Alone

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Can you be thankful in the midst of lament?


A tad late but this was a blog I wrote for the Biblical faculty site for Thanksgiving. It raises the question for how to be thankful and lament at the same time. Since I wrote this, I ran across a very apt quote by Rick Warren in Time Magazine (emphases mine). Follow the link below to read his short essay.

This year became the worst year of my life when my youngest son, who’d struggled since childhood with mental illness, took his own life. How am I supposed be thankful this Thanksgiving? When your heart’s been ripped apart, you feel numb, not grateful.

And yet the Bible tells us Give thanks IN ALL circumstances, for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” The key is the word “in.” God doesn’t expect me to be thankful FOR all circumstance, but IN all circumstances. There’s a huge difference. The first attitude is masochism. The second shows maturity. We’re not supposed to be thankful for evil or sin, or the innocent suffering caused by these things. But even in heartache and grief and disappointment, there are still good things that I can be thankful for.

I used to think that life was a series of mountain highs and valley lows, but actually we get both at the same time. In our world broken by sin, the good and the bad come together. On the cover of my wife’s book, Choose Joy, is a photo of a railroad track heading into the horizon. Like that photo, our lives are always running on two parallel rails simultaneously. No matter how good things are in my life, there are always problems I must deal with, and no matter how bad things are in my life, there are always blessings I can be grateful for.

Read more: Rick Warren | Thanksgiving Gratitude With Michelle Obama, Rick Warren and More | TIME.com http://time100.time.com/2013/11/25/time-for-thanks/slide/rick-warren/#ixzz2n5fFWVDz

 

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Recapturing the practice of lament


Over at the Seminary’s blog page, you can find a short post of mine on the topic of lament and our need to enact lament in our church services. We seem to be able to do this on Good Friday but I would suggest that it is an essential practice until all suffering, “is made untrue” (to quote Tolkien).

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