Healing’s Messy Middle: The Winding Road of Re-Engagement

The process of re-engaging at a church after leaving a spiritually abusive one has been MUCH longer, slower, and more difficult than we thought it would be. Even so, we’ve caught glimpses of hope, joy, and beauty along the path.

Our most recent spiritually abusive experience ushered us into an unexpectedly long season of not attending church. Our intention had been to take a little breather and jump straight into the search for a new church home. Instead, we found ourselves needing some time to recover and heal from what we had experienced, and realizing that rushing it would only do us more harm. 

Once we were ready to start the search, we recognized that though we had gone through this process before, this was our first time looking for a new church with the knowledge that spiritual abuse was a possibility. It made our search process feel heavier and more intense. We did all the research we knew to do. Looked up websites. Read belief statements and by-laws. Watched months worth of Sunday services online. Once we had narrowed it down, we dug even deeper. We looked up social media reviews and asked people who had visited or attended for their thoughts. Everything seemed to check out. Good sermons, ministries that fit our family, solid doctrine, good reputation in the community.

All that was left was to actually go and see what it was like in person...which sounds so much simpler than it felt!

The week leading up to going was tough.The closer Sunday came, the quieter we became as our tension increased. It made sense that we were anxious and unsettled. Even without a history of spiritual abuse, walking into an unknown situation and starting at square one with all new people and rhythms is a lot. With it, the whole process felt frightening in ways we’d never experienced before. Still, we wanted to be part of a faith community and were ready to take a step toward it. We also knew that if it wasn’t a good fit, didn’t work out, or was too much, we could step back. It was strange to have so many conflicting feelings about something that had once been so routine.

On Sunday the car ride was silent. We admitted to each other that we were feeling nervous as we pulled into the parking lot. Before we got out of the car we took a second to pray for peace and wisdom. With deep breaths, shaking hands, and hearts beating a little too fast, we opened the door and stepped inside.

We wanted to be there, but the effort it took was exhausting. Our nervous systems remained on high alert for a long time despite nothing raising red flags for us. Attracting attention as newcomers felt super uncomfortable, so we did everything in our power to blend in and not be noticed. For about 8 months we succeeded in slipping in and out of Sunday morning services without much interaction. Having previously worked in vocational ministry, this was a way of doing church neither of us had experienced. We didn’t love it, but it was what we were able to handle at the time. It gave us space to gather with other believers while we discovered the character of the church and its leadership.

Ultimately though, large gatherings weren’t what we were seeking. We longed to be part of a faith community and we understood that friendships wouldn’t just happen as we listened to the sermons. In order to have relationships we’d have to intentionally engage with people in a smaller group setting. But walking into that took a lot of nerve, consideration, and time.

There was a Sunday school class that met during the second hour and we decided to stay for it. We were ready to take the step and it wasn't a huge extra commitment. It turned out to be a great class, and a solid group of people! We studied through books of the Bible complete with chapters of commentaries emailed out ahead of time. Differing opinions were common and respected, and we felt welcome in that space. Even though everything was going spectacularly well, we continued to feel that familiar nervousness before walking into the room for several months. It became habit to take some steadying breaths and send up a prayer for peace as we entered.

After attending the Sunday school class for a year we were ready to take another step to deeper fellowship than was possible in an inductive Bible study class. Several of the Sunday school members were part of a twice a month small group. That seemed a logical place to start and not a huge additional commitment. It was frustrating to us that when we arrived at that first meeting, we felt back at the beginning again. Nervous, hearts beating fast, hands a little shaky. We knew most of the people who would be there! They were safe! We wanted to be there! But actually walking into the building took prayers and steadying breaths. Everyone was great. Welcoming. Kind. Still, it was another several months before that anxious jitteriness relaxed its hold on our minds and bodies. 

While we were slowly walking through the process of re-engagement and taking steps forward in some areas, there were other areas in which we were taking giant leaps back. The church had entered a time of transition due to the longtime pastor retiring. The pastoral search process was long and very rocky. It felt like the church was having an identity crisis. We had misunderstandings and miscommunications with new friends. People we had come to respect and care for were hurt by others and chose to leave. The class we had felt so welcomed by was canceled. I had several interactions with one individual that triggered me in ways I had never experienced before and left me confused and a little afraid of my own brain. All of it left us feeling a whole new level of unsettled. None of it has been comfortable or easy.

We have absolutely thought about leaving. Multiple times. Sometimes it was a flight response to being triggered – “We can’t stay here! Run! Get out!” Those reactions needed to be unpacked later, once our nervous systems had calmed down and we could think clearly. Other times it was a slower realization that some sermon or procedure had the potential to lead to an abusive practice, and that if the church was indeed heading that direction, we’d need to exit. Often that led to asking questions of those in leadership to get clarity and express our concerns. So far we feel ok to stay, but if that changes we know we have the freedom and ability to shake the dust off our feet and go. 

There are also some truly beautiful things that began in the midst of all the hard. Small moments of connection with new friends. Laughing until we cried while playing games with them. Dinner invitations and potlucks. Realizing we hadn’t needed to take those deep breaths before walking into a class or group meeting in a while. Beginning to share our stories and finding compassion. Others opening up about their own stories and inviting us into their lives. The privilege of entering into a small community of people, walking with them in their hard seasons, and allowing them to walk with us in ours. Really starting to know and be known in sacred spaces. We also learned more about the quality of leadership within the church by their responses to our concerns. We even came to see the times we were triggered as difficult, but ultimately beneficial to our healing because they pointed out where we still had work to do, and that we needed to seek help to accomplish it. It was in these moments that we discovered how to do and be church in the small spaces even while the larger corporate places felt uneasy and stressful.

The conclusion I have come to is that this process of re-engagement in a spiritual community after experiencing spiritual abuse is long, messy, and uncomfortable, yet somehow includes glimmers of hope and beauty. There doesn’t seem to be a way forward without significant twists and turns. But messy doesn’t always mean wrong, evil, or abusive. It certainly could, and we need to keep our eyes open for that, but it could also be like any road to the high places. We expect it to be a straight line from the valley to the mountain top, but it never is. There are dips and turns that seem to take us in the opposite direction of where we want to go. There are obstacles that test our strength and send electric currents of fear zipping through our hearts. There are moments when the journey seems endless, and hopeless. But as we learn to trust our good God, as he walks with us, gives purpose to each step, and introduces us to our fellow travelers, we will ultimately arrive at those high places together, and know him more deeply when we do.