Wounded by the Church

Church: n. 1. Place of fellowship 2. Source of pain.

Since childhood, church was a place where I enjoyed friends and used my gifts for God. I knew Christian fellowship was important and I was committed to serving through the church. When I married a man preparing for ministry, I acquired the daunting title of “pastor’s wife.” But I didn’t mind. I loved my husband, I loved the Lord, and I loved the church. I could do this!

After successful ministries with other congregations, my husband was called to pastor a church in the college town where we had met as students. We were thrilled to settle down in this community where we had such wonderful memories.

A Place We Called Home

In our four years with this congregation, my husband worked hard. He preached, taught, baptized, counseled, and visited. He assisted committees, taught Bible school, and supervised the staff. He went on youth mission trips, performed weddings, preached funerals, and left before dawn time and again to offer prayers before surgeries.

I was busy too, finishing doctoral work and in my first years of a faculty position, while getting acclimated to this new church. I counseled parishioners, helped with Bible school, and played piano for choir. I taught Sunday school, cooked for fellowships, and started a prayer ministry. We were also the parents of two preschoolers. The truth is, we were busy.

Another truth - we were happy. Making new friends had often been difficult for me. But as the pastor and pastor’s wife, everyone readily invited us to their get-togethers, providing a comfortable way to build relationships. In fact, after one Fourth of July picnic, I reflected on how good our life was. We had spent a beautiful summer day with people we loved. We were busy in a work where we were called, and were raising our children in this small town community. What’s more, this was no temporary stop until we could pursue what we really wanted. This was where we had chosen to build a life. We were home.

Then, during our fourth year, the church decided to add another staff position; a committee was formed, a search launched. My husband voiced reservations to the committee about one candidate in particular, and after meeting him, I too had misgivings. However, the committee invited him for a visit and a secret-ballot vote was taken. While fully expecting the church to vote in favor, my husband and I each voted not to call him.

Imagine my relief when he did not receive the votes needed to be offered the position. My relief turned to apprehension, however, when I learned he was two votes short of having the number required.

Two votes.

The committee members were devastated, believing the church had not appreciated their months of hard work. Although we saw wisdom in the church’s decision, we hurt for these friends and wanted to help them through this setback. Although he had shared his reservations earlier, my husband called the committee together to begin the healing process and offer transparency regarding our personal votes. I was certain he was overreacting when he cautioned me that this could end his ministry at this church. “It will never come to that,” I insisted. “These are our friends. They’ll understand.”

Betrayed

However, I was entirely unprepared for their response. They were angry, believing we had betrayed them. The fact that twenty-five percent of the church in addition to us had voted against the candidate was irrelevant; our pleas for understanding, futile. I left the meeting deeply hurt at their refusal to give us the benefit of the doubt.

The next few weeks were beyond difficult for me. I thought of little else. I wanted to go from house to house explaining again and again so I could elicit their understanding. Instead, we received secondhand accounts of discussions that transpired without our input. I was living under an incredible amount of pressure with no idea how or when it would end. Ultimately, I had to wait while they decided how they felt about us. I was miserable.

To be fair, many did express their exasperation at how we were being treated. And yet, even that was maddening, because none of them took formal steps to stop the damage being done. I longed for someone to stand up in church and say “Enough!”

But no one did.

Broken Trust

Without giving us a forum to resolve this issue, the church asked for my husband’s resignation. The ones I had trusted to understand wanted us to leave.

To be discarded is agonizing. I grieved for years over the loss of our church. I found it difficult to trust those who befriended us, in church or out. I worried that I would always feel suspicious—resentment—toward people in general, and churchgoers in particular.

For a pastor’s wife, I was in an impossible situation. I believed church to be a vital part of the Christian life, yet I never wanted to set foot in church again. I wanted to raise our children in a Christian community, yet I did not trust Christian people. As a psychologist, I knew that to move on I needed to address my feelings with those who had hurt us, yet as the pastor’s wife, I had to be cautious in what I said and to whom I said it. I saw no way for me to get through this without permanent damage.

Yet, I did. And in the process, I gained insight that I now offer to any of you in similar situations. 

HOPE AND HEALING FOR THOSE WOUNDED BY THE CHURCH:

1. “Getting over it” is not the goal.

To “get over” something implies that the experience had no lasting effect. Yet every experience changes us in some way. In fact, to hope for “all things [to] work together for good” (Rom. 8:28) demands that we not “get over it” but allow it to make us better. Elisabeth Kubler-Ross and David Kessler stated, “You will not ‘get over’ the loss of a loved one… You will heal, and you will rebuild yourself around the loss you have suffered. You will be whole again, but you will never be the same. Nor should you be the same, nor would you want to.”  

While the pain has subsided, I am not “over it.” I have rebuilt myself around the loss of my “loved one.” I am whole, but I am not the same. If you have gone through a similar situation, know that indeed you will never be the same. You can, however, allow the experience to shape you into a better person.

2. Find appropriate ways to express your feelings.

Since we never had a forum to air grievances, I never expressed to the church the fear, anger, and grief I felt. Without doing so, I spent years mentally playing through “what I should have said.” This was incredibly taxing for me and prolonged my healing time. I could have benefitted from a therapist back then to guide me in what to say and to whom. I recommend the same for anyone going through a similar situation. A well-trained therapist who respects your faith is crucial; one who understands church polity, a bonus.

3. Forgive.

While volumes could be written on forgiveness, an understanding of group dynamics helped me immensely. As a psychologist, I know groups wield enormous power as individuals often refrain from helping those in need because they assume someone else will act. This diffusion of responsibility coupled with their doubting that one person can make a difference anyway often keeps caring people from doing anything to help. 

This knowledge helped me forgive those who did not speak up on our behalf. Many who cared about us likely felt inadequate to make a difference on their own and waited for someone else to act. While it was too late to turn the tide, a few did voice their disapproval to the church the day my husband resigned. I respect their willingness to do what they could. 

If you are aware of an injustice in your church, speak up. One voice can prompt others to follow, breaking the power of the group. If you have been hurt by others’ silence, understand that no one is immune to group pressure. Work toward forgiveness.

4.  Church can still be God’s presence in the world.

My husband and I have continued ministering through the church. The congregation he now pastors has always treated us with love and respect. Amazingly, I do trust these people and they have proven trustworthy. Another church we have attended, consistently stands with the oppressed against injustice. These churches continually remind me that Christian people can live up to the best of what God calls us to be. 

In sharing my experience, I hope to provide hope to those who have been hurt by the church. I also pray that each of us will strive to make our churches places of fellowship rather than sources of pain. 

~ By Elizabeth Harris Edwards.  Reference:  Kubler-Ross, E. & Kessler, D. On Grief & Grieving: Finding the Meaning of Grief Through the Five Stages of Loss. New York: Scribner.