Carrie needed money for college, but she couldn’t ignore the leading of the Holy Spirit. She came to youth ministry camp to care for teenage girls and quickly found herself in crisis. Things were going well with her campers, until Wednesday night. One girl had asked to speak with Carrie before lights out, but when it came time to talk, Carrie received a note instead. The camper apologized and told the counselor she couldn’t talk, but asked if she would read a letter. As Carrie sat alone reading, she had no idea how deeply the contents would impact her. The note explained in graphic detail how this precious girl had been violated by a man in her life. Carrie felt frozen to the floor as she read, unable to make sense of the horrific images. She knew things like this happened, but not to anyone she had ever cared for.
She wanted to put the letter down, but felt an obligation to read, to somehow be present with this young woman in her pain. She felt rage rising slowly in her throat, and she fought to keep the satisfying temptation of hatred from hijacking her sensibilities. This was supposed to be a wonderful week at camp, discipling a few girls in the name of Jesus, but witnessing a violation had altered Carrie’s experience. Discipleship had brought her face to face with the best and the worst of the human condition, leaving her feeling guilty about her own violent feelings toward the perpetrator and helpless as a caregiver. As we sat and talked, Carrie was confused, and she had urgent questions. How could the God she had come to love and trust allow one of his own children to suffer such pain? Furthermore, if God is good, why would any child suffer? Carrie was learning what very few ever consider before getting involved: Discipleship can be painful.
Like Carrie, many who engage in discipleship are not trained therapists or clergy; they’re just people who love God and are willing to share their faith and life with another person. Before we commit to a discipling relationship, we might think about the time it will take, or we might be nervous about our lack of biblical knowledge, but how many of us stop to think about the way in which we might be changed, as we walk soul-to-soul with another human-being? Empathy is powerful. Caring builds trust and creates a safe context for honesty. We hope God will use our relationship to bring to the surface issues that need to be confessed or perhaps spoken for the first time. Like this young woman at camp, many people carry the weight of secret violation and the discipling relationship creates the perfect context for disclosure, release, and healing. In addition, many suffer the trauma of life experiences in the present – news of a loved one with cancer, a still- born child, a father with a brain injury, a suicidal teenager. Facing trauma in discipleship is not only about witnessing past violation, but may also involve shocking losses in the present.
Hundreds of years ago, Solomon wrote, “A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones” (Prov. 17:22). Trauma is a weight that threatens to crush the spirit and dry the bones of anyone it touches. As Carrie’s spirit was being crushed by this new information, she needed help. Thankfully the leadership team of the camp was able to respond appropriately to the camper and the counselor, to address the crushing weight of traumatic stress. But what about us? How can we recognize the influence of traumatic stress in our own lives? How can we remain healthy so we can give our best in discipleship?
Witnessing Traumatic Pain
In a traumatic event like a car accident, the primary casualty is the person in the vehicle. As people approach the accident to help, they might see blood or hear screams of pain. These witnesses are secondary casualties, and they may experience something called secondary traumatic stress, which is the stress we feel when we witness someone else in pain. Left unmanaged, this kind of stress will impact our quality of life negatively. Secondary traumatic stress is also referred to as vicarious trauma – trauma experienced through a primary casualty. People who work in disaster relief, health care, or as therapists understand vicarious trauma can pose a significant health risk if ignored, but seldom do we think of its impact for those engaged in discipleship. As we’ve already seen, discipleship involves being open to the possibility of encountering the traumatic pain of others. Being invited into the sacred space of a person’s trauma is an honor earned through empathy and trust, but sitting in the pain with a disciple can alter our attitudes and habits, the way we see ourselves, our world, and our God.
Trauma Effects Our Attitudes and Habits
As I sat and spoke with Amy, her pain-filled story tumbled out. She was involved in a ministry that discipled children and young teens in the inner city. In six years she had heard it all. It seemed that children always were confiding in her, recounting stories of violence, substance abuse, prostitution, and sexual assault. Amy often came home feeling numb and unable to speak to God. Many nights she would cry herself to sleep having dreams of rescuing children, helping them escape danger. Amy was the kind of disciple-maker every ministry would love to have, but she had a crushed spirit. Although she loved being with people, she no longer answered the phone, fearing someone might require her care. She seldom prayed, although for many years her relationship with God had been wonderfully intimate. She didn’t sleep well, and she had difficulty trusting men, even though her own experience with men never had involved violation. Amy was not engaged in disaster relief that required wallowing in human wreckage after a bombing or tsunami; she was the lady who made crafts with kids in a children’s ministry. Through empathic engagement with kids, this extraordinary disciple-maker’s attitudes and habits had been radically altered. She always had been strong, a tomboy of sorts, but now she was afraid to be alone. She had become a secondary casualty, a victim of vicarious trauma, but she had no idea what was wrong with her. For her, three things were true: She loved the kids in her ministry; she couldn’t control her emotions; and God had disappeared.
Typically, vicarious trauma manifests in strong emotions such as rage, grief, and outrage leading to an increase in cynicism. It’s also common for people experiencing vicarious trauma to create relational distance from those in the discipling relationship and even from family and friends. Ironically, the very work of caring in discipleship results in an increased inability to respond empathically to the needs of the disciple. Other symptoms include increased fatigue, sadness and/or depression, developing a new set of fears, an increased sensitivity to suffering, and an increased desire for comfort, often obtained through secret sins, resulting in guilt and increased cynicism. Perhaps the greatest damage for the disciple-maker is the impact of vicarious trauma on hope.
Trauma Assaults Our Hope
The Apostle Paul told the Corinthian church there is hope for this life and the next (I Cor. 15:19), and reminded the Colossians the indwelling Christ is the very hope of glory. The author of Hebrews called our hope in Jesus an “anchor for the soul, firm and secure” (6:19). For generations the very grist of our faith has been summed up in the words of Job, “Though He slay me, yet will I hope in him” (13:15). Although our hope in Christ is assured by the Father, there is a very real sense in which hope must be nurtured, protected, and preserved, especially in the face of senseless and often graphic suffering.
Discipleship rests on the foundation of hope – hope in the goodness and grace of God; in the truth of the Scriptures; in the possibility of becoming a new creation (2 Cor. 5:17); in the One who heals the brokenhearted (Ps. 147:3); in the presence of the Trinitarian God (Matt. 28:20, John 14:26); in the return of Jesus (John 14:1). This all-pervasive hope is passed on soul-to-soul, just as a parent might impress culture on a child. As Christians, ours is a culture of hope, and this hope travels through the faith of the disciple-maker and energizes and permeates everything we do in discipleship. Exposure to traumatic pain erodes hope and threatens to leave us immobilized, surprised by grief, and incapacitated by new information that seems to fly in the face of all we have held so dear. When our hope is assaulted through traumatic pain, cynicism raises its ugly head and we question the goodness of God, the value of discipleship, and even, in the darkest of moments, the very reason for life itself. Perhaps this is why the assault on hope is the most dangerous of all repercussions of vicarious trauma. Thankfully, all is not lost, for our anchor is secure in Christ, even when our hope is lost.
Trauma Destabilizes Our Identity
While serving as youth pastor, I heard my share of traumatic stories from kids. One of the more difficult stories for me involved a young person who had been repeatedly assaulted over many years by an alcoholic father. The whole family attended our church, and I recall the first time I saw the father after hearing of his behavior. Everything in me wanted to lunge at him, to give him an ear-full, to beat him senseless. I was enraged by his violence, and my own strong reaction surprised me. Pastors are supposed to model godliness and forgiveness, but I was faced with the reality of my own condition. My rage and hate forced me to reevaluate my identity. This traumatic encounter forced me to think about my past and evaluate my present identity as a new creation in Christ. I needed to be honest about my angry feelings, but I also had to recognize I, too, was capable of violence.
It has become increasingly important for me, as I’ve engaged in discipleship, to learn to be honest about who I am and what I need in order to remain healthy and faithful to Jesus. Usually this involves confession and repentance on my part. Sometimes, I just need a place to be angry at the senseless violation I’ve witnessed. Although it can take some time, we must make our way back to the anchor who is Christ, the comfort of his presence and His word that serves as a compass for identity when trauma has clouded our minds and we have forgotten who we are in Him.
Trauma Influences Our Worldview
Amy’s world changed after years of listening to children’s stories of violation. She no longer had the carefree personality she had growing up. Now, the world was dangerous, and living took a lot more effort. From your own experience, you might think the family is a wonderful context for faith formation and nurture, that is until the disciple you spend time with recounts a story of personal violation from Christian parents. Traumatic experiences tend to alter our worldview. Amy recalls a time when she was waiting for a bus. In broad daylight, five men walked by her and suddenly she felt sick to her stomach. Her hands were sweating, she began to shake, fear immobilized her – she thought she was going crazy. Amy never had been violated in any way by a man, but so many of the children she worked with had. It seems an obvious connection in retrospect; but not until we chatted about it was she able to see a connection between her new worldview and her consistent role as a witness to trauma.
Making sense of her reactions helped Amy feel stabilized and grounded, like she might not be crazy after all. After years of witnessing trauma, Amy had begun to isolate herself, but others in her situation have responded in other ways. After hearing stories of violation, some might enroll in a self-defense class, install an expensive security system, or exercise tighter constraints on their own children. Traumatic stress, even when secondary, has the power to shape our choices and worldview.
Trauma Changes Our Perception of God
When I spoke with Carrie and Amy, they were in crisis. Carrie thought she knew God, but having heard this traumatic story, she wasn’t so sure. One conversation with a 14-year-old girl and Carrie faced a crisis of faith. Amy loved the kids she worked with, even referring to them as “my kids.” She took them shopping, taught them how to pray, and gave them hope that God would be present. But these precious disciples wanted to know why God continued to let them suffer.
Both of these young women discovered vicarious trauma results in an unrelenting assault on our understanding of the character of God. We might wonder why we don’t pray like we used to, why the Bible seems dry and uninviting, why we prefer not to get involved in discipleship anymore. Of course there may be a variety of reasons for these things, but we would be wise not to dismiss the influence of traumatic stress. Counselors have said, “Ninety percent of healing is awareness.” Neither Carrie nor Amy saw a connection between their feelings and the trauma stories they had heard until they began to think through their respective situations. Others may have made the connection for themselves, but it’s always wise to give trauma prayerful consideration. When God seems distant and we can’t find our way back to the intimacy we once knew, recognizing the influence of vicarious trauma may provide the clarity we need to regain our spiritual zeal and get back into the discipling relationships that have always brought us a sense of accomplishment and joy.
Vicarious trauma does not get the final word, unless we allow it. Our own woundedness can become the very thing God uses to draw us to him and increase our spiritual authority and ministry effectiveness. It’s no fun being wounded, yet there is something holy and powerful about a discipling relationship with someone who truly understands loss and traumatic pain. Understanding the impact of vicarious trauma is not our excuse to leave discipleship. Rather it helps make sense of our feelings and behaviors so we might fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who, for the joy set before him, endured the cross, scoring its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God (Heb. 12:2).
For more information on secondary traumatic stress, or to book a workshop, please contact:
Dr. Christopher Marchand, D. Min.
Associate Professor of Youth Leadership
Providence College and Seminary (www.prov.ca)
