A Place to Die

A piece of me died this month.

It's kind of ironic when you think about it considering that September is the month I was born. And even more ironically, a piece of me died exactly a week before I celebrated another year of life.

Specifically, a piece of church hurt, religious trauma, spiritual abuse, whatever you want to call it, died this month. I had a very difficult, but much needed, conversation with a prominent figure in my life. Even more, the occasion marked a relational milestone for me.

Now, the milestone isn’t that I was able to have the difficult conversation. I work in Human Resources, that’s the nature of my profession. No, the milestone was the fact that I chose to have the difficult conversation. Normally when conflict arises with a prominent figure in my life, for fear of losing the relationship, I either ignore the conflict or distance myself to avoid the conflict.

So, true to my pattern, when conflict arose the first time with this prominent figure, I adjusted. I pushed past the impacts of the conflict and decided to move on. When conflict arose a second time, again, true to my nature, I wanted God to put some permanent distance between us and allow me to develop this same relationship with a different person. However, the Lord didn’t answer my prayer. He wanted me to respond differently this time but I didn’t want to touch that wound. That wound had been bandaged and wrapped for many years and I didn’t understand the need to aggravate it because I’d still been able to function despite it. So, I ignored the dull, but present, tug toward growth and maturity for several days. Then, the Lord sent confirmation through a friend who warned me that if I didn’t choose to respond differently this time, I would “choke my future with my past.”

Although I didn’t see the benefit in having the difficult conversation, I wasn’t willing to not have the conversation and jeopardize my future. So, before I could change my mind, I scheduled a meeting and used the time in between to ask God to soften my heart and give me what to say. And thankfully, despite my anxiety and predictions about how I thought things would turn out, the conversation was seamless and the relationship still stands. I said everything I needed to say, wanted to say, and more! But immediately after the conversation ended, I felt naked.

At first, the nakedness felt like an invasion of privacy. It felt like self-betrayal. It felt weak, unwise, and dangerous to uncover myself and allow others to see my wounds, giving them the opportunity to wound me deeper. But over the last couple of days I’ve began to see the nakedness as an advantage. It was because of my vulnerability in that conversation that I felt so seen and cared for by a prominent figure.

To my surprise, spiritual abuse was a place in me that needed to die. I assumed that because I’ve been actively detoxing from religion, my church hurt would automatically be healed. However, this experience has taught me that certain trauma will require me to go back to the place (either physically, mentally and/or emotionally) where the offense occurred to repair and rebuild the foundation. God doesn’t just want me to detox, or be healed, from religious trauma. He wants me to be delivered from its impacts as well. No residue. No evidence. And as a leader, I can’t lead women of faith where I haven’t been or where I’m not willing to go. But now that I have the keys to this area of religious detox, I can’t wait to witness how God will use me to lead other women this same way.

P.S. If you’re a woman of faith with places that you’re ready to let die, join me October 14th at A Day at The Well hosted by the Well Woman Movement, Inc!