The Fellowship of Suffering: Insights from Trauma Healing

The traumas faced

Church leaders had come from DR Congo and Central African Republic, where ethnic cleansing was in process with unspeakable atrocities, leaving dead bodies to rot in the streets for all to see. Women were raped in public, and even more demeaning, sons were forced to rape their mothers in the family’s living room. Attack could come from a neighbor, a church member, or sometimes a spouse. Pastors from opposing sides stood together in solidarity at risk of their lives, facing attack not only from the enemy but also from their brothers for befriending the enemy. They found their names on death lists and hid, even as they heard of others who had been caught and killed.

Pastors came from Jos, Nigeria, where Muslims and Christians were rioting in the streets. One of the pastors lost forty-five church members and his church building in the conflict. Muslims risked their lives hiding their Christian neighbors in their homes. A question we debated hotly: “Should a pastor own a gun?”

Pastors from Congo Brazzaville told of fleeing the capital with mortars falling around them, carrying their babies in their arms, running for their lives into the forest. There, they met danger, hunger, and disease. They lived like animals. A pastor dying of malaria took the risk of going to the nearest city for medicine, only to be doubly shocked to find life going on as usual there. Another pastor stayed in the forest an entire year before daring to come out. When the radio announced safe passage out of the forest, many came out, only to find they had walked into a trap where thousands of women were raped.

All this was a new experience for these people. They had seen atrocities on television before but never imagined “it could happen here.” Their lives changed overnight.

Those of us who had organized the workshop found their stories shocking and sobering. As they shared their near-death experiences and exposed the depths of their inner pain, we felt like we were on sacred ground, entering into this fellowship of suffering as witnesses. When it was our turn to tell the group of our pain, we felt it was inconsequential by comparison, but they graciously embraced it as suffering and therefore sacred.

Workshop aim and format

The aim of the workshop was to help these pastors heal of their trauma so they could in turn help their people heal. We started with “If God loves us, why do we suffer?” How do we make sense of our experience, when it seems to contradict what we believe about God’s love and protection and the power of prayer? Is our theology of suffering strong enough to navigate these waters of suffering? Prosperity Gospel does not prove to be helpful to those who have lost everything. A theology of retribution is likewise unhelpful for people who suffer because of the evil choices of others. One pastor prayed, “God, is it that you don’t like black skin?” In their dark night, evil seemed to have the upper hand.

All this trauma was discussed in an interactive way, starting with a story of Pastor Yuh, who saw war destroy his community. He began to doubt his faith and felt like a hypocrite when he preached about God’s love. The group compared what the Bible says with what their culture says about God and suffering. They reflected on the ways God had used suffering in their lives to find hope. They reflected on their relationship with their biological fathers and its impact on their relationship with their heavenly Father. All along the way, they shared their stories, sometimes in the large group, sometimes in small groups, sometimes with tears, sometimes with laughter.

When the pastors completed this first lesson, they smiled and said, “We are Pastor Yuh!” They were refreshed to finally be in a place where they could speak the truth about how they felt. This was in sharp contrast to the Christianity they knew, where no one dared voice their doubts. By the end of the first lesson, the pretending game was over. The fellowship of suffering had begun.

The second lesson was “How can the wounds of our hearts be healed?” Again, we started with a story, this time of John Mba, who lost one of his arms in an attack. John, his wife, and son were all suffering from trauma, but the pastor told them they should not have these bad feelings; they should have faith! This was reinforced by their culture, which told them men don’t cry.

Because we were translating into local languages, we had to find a simple way to say things like “trauma.” In many languages “heart wound” worked well. We compared a heart wound with a physical wound. This helped the pastors realize heart wounds must be treated, and treated with care, to heal. Like an infection, the pain must come out, or it will cause more trouble. They realized that it is normal for traumatized people to act strangely; it is not necessarily a sign of weak faith or demons. We buttressed this truth with characters in Scripture who were sad, angry, or in anguish, including Jesus himself! Having a more accurate diagnosis of the problem freed them from responses that were unhelpful. One pastor said, “We didn’t know! There will be a lot less exorcisms now that we know about trauma.”

But how can a wound of the heart be treated? With so many traumatized people and almost no mental health specialists in the area, we needed something ordinary people could do: they could listen. This sounded so simple, but it was a tall order for pastors who had been trained to exhort, teach, and fix. We armed them with three simple questions: (1) What happened? (2) How did you feel? and (3) What was the hardest part? The first question helped establish the story, the second helped them begin to name and contain the feelings, and the third helped them zero in on the part that most needed attention. Then they shared in groups of two, many revealing their story to another person for the first time. The fellowship of suffering deepened.

At a later workshop, we added an art exercise as another way to express pain. Pastors in Africa are not given to drawing, so it was risky to propose this activity. But we took the risk and found this sort of expression to be natural to them, much like the symbolism of dreams. They all wanted to share their drawings and helped interpret each other’s work and then prayed for each other so long that they were late for dinner.

Trauma brings loss, so we continued with a lesson on grieving. The lesson opened with the story of Pastor Ndri, who had to flee with his church members to a neighboring country. We talked about grieving being like a journey through three villages: the Village of Denial and Anger, the Village of No Hope, and the Village of New Beginnings. A “false bridge” promises to go directly to new beginnings, but it does not actually work. We acted out this grief journey. Then in twos, we shared our experiences of grief: did we make it to the Village of New Beginnings? Did we get stuck along the way? Did we try the false bridge? We discussed the kinds of things that were helpful to them when they were grieving, and the things that were unhelpful. Rounds of laughter punctuated the discussions.

Further developments

At the first workshop, we presented the need to express our pain based primarily on mental health principles. The African pastors had to admit that sharing their stories brought some relief, but they felt that much of this was secular and Western, and they “had faith.” The second year, we showed biblical support for this approach by introducing laments, first studying the structure of a biblical lament, and then having them write their own lament. All of their cultures had lament traditions, but they had been told that Christians do not lament. When they saw that there are more lament psalms than praise psalms in the Bible, they dared to lament—first hesitatingly, but then freely pouring out their hearts to God. They shared their laments in the large group, often accompanied by song, drumming, grieving postures, and dance. Their world changed. One pastor said in the closing ceremony, “I have never preached on a lament, but the first Sunday I’m back, that is what I will do.”

We continued with a lesson on helping children who had experienced bad things. These pastors did not know what to do with their children, who were clingy, afraid of anyone in uniform, waking everyone with their nightmares, bed-wetting, and doing poorly in school. Every night they prayed the same prayer, “God, please don’t let the soldiers/rebels come.” Their tradition of “children should be seen and not heard” was not helping. The pastors learned that children needed to express their pain, too—in words, in play, in art. The next year they came back smiling. Their children were greatly improved!

Rape is a topic not usually discussed in polite company, especially in Africa. But when rape has been used widely as a weapon of war, communities have to address it. When we brought it up, the pastors first said, “It’s not a problem in our communities,” but before the hour was up, the truth of widespread rape came out. We were able to discuss how to help victims.

These pastors were going back to communities where nearly everyone was traumatized. They could easily become overloaded with the stress of their workload and secondary trauma. Their idea of a good pastor was one who was available 24/7/52, so we included a lesson on care for the caregiver. They enthusiastically welcomed the idea that rest is good and necessary.

After all this, we were ready to take our pain to the cross of Christ. This was a group ritual of writing down our pain, having opportunity to share it with another person and pray for each other, and then nailing the papers to a wooden cross and asking God for healing. We burned the papers and sang hymns of praise because Christ’s death absorbs the pain of the whole world: “by his stripes we are healed” (Isa 53:5). Many experienced release from the oppressive weight of pain that evening; others did so over time.

Then we turned to forgiving those who have hurt us. These pastors preached about forgiveness often, but in real life they did not know how to forgive in more than a superficial way. Given the magnitude of their pain and loss, they needed a very robust concept of forgiveness. After uprooting some wrong notions about forgiveness, we described forgiveness as a process that takes time, a grace of God, and, a recognition of how much we have been forgiven by God. With the heavy weight of their pain lifted at the cross, forgiving was a natural reaction for many. “We knew we had to forgive,” they said; “we just didn’t know how.”

Our last lesson was on living as a Christian in the midst of conflict. This lesson was crafted with a pastor living in the hot realities of ethnic conflict. His son had been kidnapped by colleagues of the other ethnic group and tortured for weeks until he died. The pastor was responsible for churches on both sides of the conflict. The forces of violence were far beyond his ability to stop, but he strove to be a peacemaker at his level of influence: his family, neighbors, and congregants. The stakes were high: he faced attack by the enemy, by his own group, who considered him a traitor, as well as by voices within urging him to perpetuate the violence. He was socially isolated. How could he live as a Christian in this context? This pastor and others shared their hard-earned wisdom. We were the students.

At the end of the workshop, the participants were eager to go home and share this good news of healing with their people. They took the lessons translated into their languages and a recording of the lament songs. And they went home knowing they were not alone but were part of a “fellowship of suffering.”

The next year, they returned to report on their adventures, discuss hard issues that had come up, learn more, and revise their translations. To our surprise, they came back singing the laments they had composed.

The spread of trauma healing

Since those simple beginnings, “Healing the Wounds of Trauma” has spread to communities around the world, mainly by word of mouth. To our great surprise, what worked in African war zones also worked in Asia, the Pacific, the Middle East, Latin and South America, and even in the West. “The war inside goes on long after the guns have been silenced,” one Congolese pastor said. And it’s not necessary to have war to have trauma. Homes can be like war zones. Rape and other forms of abuse are present in every society, at every level. Natural disasters traumatize entire communities. Trauma knows no boundaries. The depth of the darkness in our world can be overwhelming, but it never puts out the light (John 1:4). I have had a front row seat for both.

Trauma healing is now active in 112 countries, with over 16,000 trained facilitators in Protestant, Catholic, and Orthodox churches, and with materials in 148 languages. Versions of the materials have been developed for children, teens, and oral communicators, and they exist in print, audio, and video formats. The materials have been contextualized for a host of audiences, including refugees, inmates, African Americans, military, missionaries, natural disasters victims, and Muslims, and for cultures from Greenland to Sri Lanka. Lessons have been developed on domestic abuse, addictions, abortion recovery, and suicide.

Testimonies of change abound. For example, Elali was living in Goma, DR Congo, when her home was attacked, ten family members killed, and she ran away with her nine children, only to be brutally raped en route. Arriving in Uganda, she had reconstructive surgery, which left her paralyzed. She was so traumatized she could not function. She came into contact with trauma healing in Nakivale Refugee Camp and little by little began to heal. By the time I met her, she had helped over one hundred rape victims. Pastors heard she knew how to help people heal from trauma and came to her under cover of darkness for help. She held up her copy of Healing the Wounds of Trauma and said, “I take this book and the Bible, and I treat myself.” She is now a Danish citizen helping refugees in Denmark.

A pastor from Gulu writes about taking our pain to the cross: “You see someone seated and shedding tears trying to recall what has gone through his life and after that bringing the things under the cross. After some minutes, you see some smile on the face. Then you see that at least there is healing in someone’s life.” Quantitative research shows that Bible-based trauma healing carried out by facilitators with minimum training can help people recover from trauma. ⁵

View of emotions

Since the time of Plato and Aristotle, many people, especially Christians, have seen emotions as fickle, unreliable, and suspect. ¹⁹ Biblical scholars have defined emotions as cognitive beliefs or acts of the will. ²⁰ We cannot heal from trauma by denying, intellectualizing, or repressing our emotions. It simply does not work and is as exhausting as trying to keep a lot of balls under water. Rather, we should see our emotions are indicators of what is going on in our hearts. We need to pay attention, inspect underlying beliefs and values they may be based on, and use their energy for good. ²¹

Church genre

Church members may feel suffering and weakness are not the kinds of things that should be discussed at church. In communication theory, genre raises certain expectations. For example, a greeting raises different expectations than a lecture does. ²² Church functions like a genre in that it raises certain expectations: Bible study, prayer, exhortation, sermons, praise songs, and so forth. Often there is not an expectation to be vulnerable and tell your story.

Theology of suffering

Some churches see suffering as punishment for sin or as evidence of lack of faith. This theology adds the burden of guilt to people’s suffering, much like Job’s suffering was dramatically increased by his friends’ accusations. People are led to believe they should swallow their pain and put on a happy face. Wearing masks limits the Spirit’s presence in our lives.

Degree of suffering

If church is a safe place to be vulnerable, people may feel their pain is too great to share with church members. Or they may feel their pain is too small to be worth bothering anyone about. But all suffering is sacred; “loss, dehumanization, and assaults on bodies and spirits of entire peoples or one tiny child must be seen and taken in.” ²³ No suffering is too small or big for a church to care for. Mental health professionals can offer therapy; the church offers community. Both may be needed.

Listening skills

The church may lack skills to respond helpfully. They may not realize the importance of listening or may not know how to listen. They may not understand trauma and loss or grasp that healing is a long process. They may not realize that, at times, citing Bible verses is toxic rather than encouraging. Many may not have attended to their own pain. “Discounting our own pain is a sure sign that we cannot be a reverent witness to the pain of others. To become witnesses requires that we be comforted, be witnessed, and ultimately become our own witnesses who treat with loving and gentle awareness the brokenness within.” ²⁴

Churches that have become a fellowship of suffering seem to flourish, even in the midst of ongoing suffering. For example, leaders from such churches in Gulu comment:

I am seeing people getting rooted in the word of the Lord through this. In the past, people just took the word of the Lord lightly, but now when this trauma healing comes into the place, people are deeply rooted in the word of the Lord. . . .

Sometimes people when you call them to go for Bible study, they don’t come, but when we brought the trauma healing program that we share every time, when they realize that those are the kind of things that we share at the Bible study, they are coming. Involvement of people in the ministry is improving. ²⁵

Healing/saving

Healing is central to the gospel. The Greek verb sōzō is translated in English sometimes as “to save” (Matt 1:21; 8:25) and other times “to heal” (Matt 9:22; Luke 8:48). It is one conceptual category. Jesus has the desire and power to make us well in body, mind, soul, and spirit, both presently and eternally.

Suffering Savior

The church has a suffering Savior who empathizes with us in our suffering (Heb 4:15). We can find our story in the biblical story. “The word of Christ must come to dwell in us richly. It is the word of the suffering, death, and resurrection of Jesus, that great story into which we can place our little stories so that the suffering does not destroy us, but brings us to that transformation in grace that is reconciliation.” ²⁶

Identity and hope

In Christ, we are no longer defined by our suffering but have a new identity as beloved, cleansed, and honored, with a contribution to make to the world. Our story is one of hope and resurrection. The gospel helps us make sense of our experience. “Trauma and disaster studies make it clear that when lives have been chopped down by sudden and devastating violence, victims have to find an explanation. To resume life, they need to know why. . . . For their lives to rest on the most minimal order, they must have meaning, interpretation, explanation, even if the explanation is ephemeral, inadequate, partial, or outright wrong. Explanation puts order back in the world.” ²⁷

Rituals

Rituals that bring healing to both individuals and the collective memory require community. Melba Maggay tells of how the church helped victims of Typhoon Tacloban on November 10, 2013, in the Philippines. They set up a wailing wall and organized new versions of Easter rituals, culminating in throwing flowers into the sea for the loved ones who had been carried away. ²⁸ “Taking our pain to the cross” is an example of a ritual involving all the senses. Rituals require community.

Social change

If sources of injustice or conflict have not been addressed, suffering continues. Societal change requires a sustained response by many working together. Churches are well-placed to do the work that brings systemic change. Those who have suffered can turn their victimhood into agency by joining hands with others to address the source of the suffering, sustained by passion, faith, and hope.