Wednesday, September 23, 2020

Recovering from Spiritual Abuse - Part 3: Anger & Bargaining

The two most transformational books I read while recovering from spiritual abuse had extensive discussions of anger.

The Subtle Power of Spiritual Abuse - said that understanding the abuse we have experienced would inevitably lead to anger, sometimes strong anger. Their recommendation was not to repress the anger, but be very careful about what actions the anger might lead to - especially any sort of antagonism in the church that would lead back into a cycle of abuse.

Boundaries - also said that anger was a natural consequence of the understanding of our boundaries, understanding that our boundaries had been trampled on, and reacting to continued boundary violations. Again, once we recognize the violence against our boundaries, there will be an angry response that leads us to action.

Unlike what the RPCNA leadership wants to claim, anger is a God-given emotion. The Father and Jesus both model purely righteous anger - not for leaders only, but for all. Jesus was not a boundaryless pushover. Anger is not pretty - Jesus angrily overturned the tables and created quite a chaotic scene!

In addition to those powerful books, the best advice I've heard about anger, and even all human emotions, is that we should able to invite God into that emotion. If I'm angry because I did something stupid and got caught, would God agree with my anger? If, on the other hand, I'm angry because a trusted friend broke confidence and shared my pain and anguish with others, I think God wants to be there with me as I experience it. God wants to be near at all times, it's just a question of whether God would say my anger is directed appropriately.

I believe anger is the emotion God gave us to save us from abuse! It was my anger at false teaching (ironically, about anger), and then supported by RPCNA leaders who also falsely taught that anger was inherently evil, that gave me the energy to walk away from the abuse.

But, that's not really the anger I think this chart is talking about. I would say that, for the first six months after I left, I was pretty numbed to what I felt about the situation. Anger pushed me to leave the abuse, but I really didn't understand the depth or breadth of that abuse. After that point, it began to dawn on me just how severe the abuse had been [and I know that many RPs suffer much more personal and traumatic abuse than I did!] The RP church preached to the unsaved - sin, guilt, condemnation, legal requirements, judgment, and the anger of God against all unrighteousness, of which we cannot go a day without displeasing him. My new church preached to the saved - comfort, friendship, blessing, grace, the love of God for all who are his, the Spirit poured out on all, if we would just listen and walk in what we now know is the right path. At first, this was a comforting and warming message, but then I began to realize this was not what I experienced in the RP church. It was not what I experienced in my RP family. I felt like I had been in jail my whole life, imprisoned by those who should know better. At first, I was angry at my captors and myself, but at some point that anger turned to God - first actively - why, sovereign God, did you actively choose for me to be taught an evil caricature of YOU! Why did you bring me up in these chains that still hold me down. In a sense, the bargaining was a question of what my life would have looked like without the chains and abuse. There were significant decision points in my life - Why did I choose to attend Geneva? Why did I stay in the RP church when I felt mistreated at Geneva by RPs? Why did I stay in the RP church after I graduated? What would my life have looked like if I had chosen differently?

I still feel anger when I read the Bible. It is hard not to feel the chains when passages I read lead to the legalistic and abusive RP argumentation. I feel, to some respect, that the very words of the translations have been poisoned with legalism and judgment.

It is honestly still hard to work through the anger. The RPCNA and especially my family did not allow negative emotions. Anger and fear were altogether considered inappropriate. Sadness was "okay" - but led to emotional distance which was reinterpreted as rejection. So, I was never taught how to recognize and work through those emotions. Instead, strong emotions were meant to be suppressed. To point this out more visually, look around at others singing Psalms - the Bible's textbook on emotion. How much emotional repression does it take to sing "HALLELUJAH!" with no visible emotion. Or "Oh how long, Lord, forget me"? Or, pick pretty much any section of the 150 Psalms - all with loud, precise 4-part harmony, but absent any sort of emotional understanding. It's not just the RPCNA, but many, many evangelical churches in our emotionally repressive culture! Not only do we see strong emotions in the Psalms, but we see different tools as the Psalmist works through these emotions in a holy way. We see how God wants to be pulled in as a trusted friend in our happiest and most tragic times - not to reject our negative emotions - but to be our help and support. I remember the poem Footprints where a man sees two sets of footprints in his life when times are good, but when times were difficult and he felt abandoned, there was only one. His conclusion was that God left him in those times to deal alone with the trauma, but instead, when he asks, God says, the time when there was only one set of footprints was when I carried you.

I'm still angry that in the times of my life when I felt most angry, most rejected, most abandoned, instead of being understood, supported, prayed for, by the church, I was given a trite Bible verse, told to suck it up, told that others had it worse, told that I was suffering because of my sin, distracted, deflected, whatever so that the church could be full of seemingly emotionless zombies singing Psalms with "fervor" to the Lord.

Thursday, September 3, 2020

Recovering from spiritual abuse, part 2 - pain and guilt

I think many will experience this differently. I experienced pain and guilt more while I was figuring out how to deal with the abusive situation than when I finally left. My RPCNA journey reached a pinnacle of sorts soon after I graduated college, and a steady decline.

The guilt I had was in seeing abusive leadership and not trying to stand up against it and protect the abused*. There was some pain in being one of "those people" who, if the leaders were asked, left the RP church because they couldn't stand the strict righteousness required and held some area of sin too closely. Yet, in the process of leaving, I was reprimanded for bringing up my "many grievances". So, I guess the little I did speak up was already too much for the leaders to bear.

I did have a great fear that I would try to escape the pain of church. The first Sunday post-RPCNA, I drove to a church that I had researched online. The sermons didn't have the self-doubt and authoritarian lingo I heard from NAPARC churches. When I turned off the car, a thought washed over me. No one would know if I started my car again and drove away. I had some regrets when I had to walk through the welcoming committee and got pulled aside to get my "Hey everyone! I'm a first time visitor!! bag". But, those regrets soon vanished when the service started and I saw people worshiping in their own individual way. Some sat, some stood, some raised their arms and some swayed. It wasn't like people singing "Oh praise the Lord!" loudly in four-part harmony, but with absolutely no hint of joy on their faces. I heard a pastor preach that it was okay to take our anger, our pain, our negative emotions in prayer before God. That God wanted us to draw near, not like a beggar addressing a king, but like a loving father.

In the next few weeks, I would meet with a few of the RPCNA leaders who tried to find the appropriate way to apply the right amount of guilt to me. What right did I have to take the elders' valuable time and energy when they were so busy dealing with other peoples' issues? If I had just disagreed in the "appropriate" way, I would be listened to. Come back and be a part of the solution (if they didn't listen to me in the past...why would they listen to me now?)

In a sense, the "excruciating" pain came from a mutual process of disconnection. Since invitations happened in the church, I simply didn't get invited. When friendships were centered around church, there was nothing else in common to hold us together. Even going to a church-related family event post-exit was awkward. At that point, there was a pain of being unable to participate in significant events. Marriages, funerals, graduation parties - they were all centered around the church.

Note(*) - While I saw the abuse of the church, I was mostly blind to the impact it had on me. I was mostly concerned about protecting those around me. When I had disconnected from the RP church for maybe six months, my eyes started to be opened to how pervasive the abuse was and how crippling it was. Much of it was hidden in hypocritical/contradictory behavior. For example, we are praised for being this pinnacle of righteousness, yet at the same time berated week after week for our filthy rags and unworthiness. Because I felt worth (pride/self-righteouness) along with unworthiness (not measuring up), it was hard for me to really know how worthless I really felt in the abusive environment.