A few Christmases ago, the pastor stepped up to the pulpit to begin her sermon. Everyone rustled their bulletins. The pews creaked.
And then everything got quiet. The pastor looked at us. She took a deep breath. And then she didn’t say anything.
For an uncomfortably long time.
Finally, she began to speak. “I always get nervous when I preach a Christmas Eve sermon,” she said. “There are so many people here. Many of you are here for the holiday. This is my one chance a year to talk to you.”
As your church prepares for Christmas, you also may be wondering how to reach the influx of annual attendees. Why don’t they come every Sunday? What drives them away? And how do you create a welcoming environment that entices them to stay?
As you ponder these questions, I invite you to turn to one group in particular. They’re underserved and sorely lacking in pastoral attention. And one offhand comment could make or break their church attendance for years to come.
These are the people who have suffered religious abuse or trauma.
What is Religious Trauma?
Religious trauma is increasingly recognized in psychological circles. Experts now understand that religious abuse can create severe mental health problems, such as depression and anxiety. Some forms require professional help to overcome.
People suffer from religious abuse in a variety of ways. Some people are kicked out because of their sexual orientation. Others are deemed inferior and sinful because of their gender.
As children, some deal with parental abuse because of their church’s position on corporal punishment. Far too many have suffered physical or sexual abuse by pastors. And when others turn to church leadership to help with domestic violence, they are ignored.
Some survivors of religious abuse deal with none of those things. Rather, they are told over and over again that they are inherently sinful and evil and that God is angry with them.
Religious trauma can result from indirect contact with Christianity, too. When I moved into the dorms my freshman year of college, few of my peers had experienced religious abuse directly. But most of them still mistrusted me, some of them for years, because of my religiosity.
Thanks to social media and the news, angry Christians had reached my peers, even though they grew up outside religious communities. They had watched their religious friends suffer. They had heard Christians attacking their identity online. And it had created grief, anger, and fear.
And so, even without direct religious abuse, they didn’t trust Christians or religious spaces. No matter how progressive they claimed to be.
Religious Trauma in Mainline Protestantism
In the mainline Protestant churches I grew up in, we rarely discussed this issue. Why? We underestimated the magnitude of the problem and the complexity of the healing process.
We assumed that people who suffered from religious trauma would already know about our church as a safe space. We assumed that our friendliness would make them willing to give Christianity another shot. And we assumed that attendance in our inclusive churches would automatically heal their trauma after a short period of time.
But that’s often not the case. Even if people know about your church as a safe space, elements of the worship can still trigger pain from past abuse. Ultimately, you probably share much of the same language, symbols, and Scripture with the church where they experienced abuse.
And, even if they do overcome these hurdles and start attending your church, healing is not fast or automatic.
In a New York Times article, religious trauma expert Marlene Winell explains, “Even after people leave religions where they have suffered abuse, they can still harbor the emotional conviction that they are ‘basically sinful and wrong.’”
Welcoming policies aren’t enough here. Even one sentence can trigger memories of past religious trauma for someone.
Many of my friends with religious trauma courageously tried a more inclusive church. But many were triggered by a pastor’s offhand comment about sin or by the request for donations before the offering.
Even if your statement is well-intentioned, you might accidentally place yourself in the same category as a previous pastor they have met. And if you do, they may not give the church a second chance.
So how to provide compassionate pastoral care this Christmas? Here are five tips for creating a welcoming, safe space for people who have suffered religious trauma.
1. Understand How Religious Abuse Works
Everyone knows about the Catholic sex scandals. That’s a clear example of religious trauma in its worst form.
But there are other, more subtle forms of abuse, which occur across ecumenical circles. I grew up knowing that some people experienced abuse at the hands of exclusionary religious groups. But I didn’t know how deeply it could scar someone until I watched Netflix’s Queer Eye.
For those of you who aren’t familiar with the show, five gay men take a week to make over a person or organization, inside and out. In Season 2, they take a trip to Gay, Georgia (pun very much intended by the producers). Their mission: to reinvigorate the local church.
Early in the episode, the Fab Five visit the church sanctuary to check it out. But one of them, Bobby, hangs back. When his friends invite him in, he shakes his head.
In an interview, he later explained why. “My mother and father were very religious. I carried my Bible to school every day. Christianity was my life,” he says. But for them, “gay people were bad, they were pedophiles, they were evil. So I spent every prayer meeting on every Sunday crying and begging God to not make me gay.”
When he finally came out of the closet, his family and church disowned him.
The trauma from his experience is not superficial, nor easily healed. Decades later, standing on the church’s porch, he still couldn’t bring himself to enter a religious space.
“I had to know where to draw the line for my own mental health, and I think if I had gone into that church, we probably wouldn’t have finished filming that episode that day because I would’ve broken down.”
His story is far too familiar. In my subsequent interviews across the country, I asked about each interviewee’s religious background. Stories like his were shockingly widespread.
As you think about how to serve survivors, it’s important to understand how widespread the problem is and the varied forms it can take.
2. No Judgment
Now that you understand more about religious abuse, it’s time to learn the Golden Rule: no judgment.
Likely, you’re not going to tell someone they’re damned to hell. But church judgment can come in subtler forms, too. Maybe it’s a critical joke about your spouse or child in the sermon. Maybe it’s a raised eyebrow as someone tells you about their lifestyle.
Perhaps most importantly, think about the Christian words and symbols that are often used judgmentally. Words like sin. Or even words like redeem and grace, which are often used in conjunction with theologies of sin and substitutionary atonement.
These words are often used to tell people that they’re bad. That they’re inherently evil. That their very being is flawed. That the church is in the shaming and blaming business.
As such, be aware that certain religious words can have a profoundly negative impact. If you want to use them, it really helps to unpack your non-judgmental theology behind it. When you reframe these words in light of God’s unconditional love, you confront and address the shame that comes hand-in-hand with that theology.
(Or you can just steer clear of those concepts altogether).
3. Pastoral Care
Maybe someone comes to you for a one-on-one conversation. Apply the no-judgment rule here, too.
If they ask about theology or doctrine, you can focus on God’s compassion in your response. Again, try to steer clear of talking about sin, evil, or what your church believes is right vs. wrong. Emphasize everyone’s belovedness.
You can also listen for signs of religious trauma. If you do hear signs of religious abuse, react in the same way that you would if someone divulged physical or sexual abuse. Listen, comfort, and ask what they are needing.
Especially if this person is interested in joining your congregation, you can ask how to make your church a welcoming space for them. Ask what they need in the way of ongoing pastoral care.
And, if they tell you that they’re triggered by your church or something you’re doing, take note. Think about how you can shift your practices.
4. Get Resources
As discussed above, religious trauma can be on par with other forms of abuse. It may have even been combined with physical, psychological, or sexual abuse. As such, you may not be equipped to handle everyone’s needs.
So read up on resources in your area, both religious and secular. Find therapists or spiritual directors familiar with supporting the healing of this type of wound. Perhaps you know people in your congregation.
Look for resources to deal with other interconnected issues, too. Find support groups for LGBTQ people kicked out by their families. Look for domestic violence shelters for women and children in abusive Christian households.
If someone comes to you with a history of religious trauma, don’t hesitate to refer them elsewhere. It’s certainly important to extend pastoral care and offer ongoing support. But keep in mind that they may need resources beyond what you can provide. And then follow up with them to see if they’re getting what they need.
5. Worship
Most guests with religious trauma will not seek out a one-on-one conversation. Their impression of your church will be limited to your sermon and welcome. So, here are a few ways to avoid triggering them during the service itself.
First of all, do not exert any pressure to give money. Many people with religious abuse were told that their spiritual status was tied financial generosity. Short of that, many people feel churches are too focused on bringing in income.
With a larger-than-normal congregation during the holidays, it may be tempting to speak about the congregation’s leaking roof or shrinking tithes. Don’t. This may very well be interpreted as pressure—even from people unaffected by religious trauma—and may induce them to give less.
On a related note, don’t ask people to come back next week. Definitely don’t make a joke about how many more people there are on Christmas than usual. It will come across as pressure and desperation, which are two experiences especially hard for people with religious trauma.
It’s hard to minister to a one-off congregation on Christmas Eve. Especially if you want them to come back. So it’s important to know who you’re talking to.
People who have suffered religious trauma and abuse are tremendously courageous to even consider walking into a church. They may still be there under pressure from their family. If you want to minister to them, recognize what a big deal it is—and think about how you may inadvertently trigger them.
Ultimately, those who have suffered at the hands of the Church need to find an alternative community that will love them unconditionally. That community may not be a religious group—the scars might be too deep.
But if it is your church, we want to do our best to prepare and welcome them. We may not have caused the trauma. But it is our opportunity—and responsibility—to help heal it.
