Post traumatic church syndrome

 I’ve just finished reading ‘Post Traumatic Church Syndrome’ by Reba Riley and I found this book really life giving and validating for my faith experience. 

You see, over the last few years I’ve been wrestling with the deconstruction of my faith which was so tightly held in my teens and also wrestling with the sense of call to ministry which I feel so strongly, even when it feels like I am so anti church. 

Reading this book helped me to have words for my experience over the last few years and in an interview I did for radio recently, I found words to articulate the wrestle I’ve had. I don’t identify as a Christian, not because I don’t believe those things but because that label has been used to do a lot of damage. I am a person of faith. Faith in a God who loves unconditionally, faith in an institution that continues to seek new ways to love and express this good news. Faith in there being Hope, in the life and witness of Jesus and in the institution of the church and hope it will continue to change and grow and reflect that love. 

I think I could easily give up Sunday morning worship. I don’t find life or hope in much of that. As well meaning and thought out as it it, it just doesn’t bring me life, but I would exchange it anyway for a dinner or discussion group on theology, life, values, questions and doubts. I’d exchange Sunday morning liturgy with a walk in the park with a someone as they cry and wrestle with big questions. Or a cup of coffee with a stranger as they challenge me and share their story. 

I began reading post traumatic church syndrome about 12 months ago, I wanted to explore some of the distaste I had for the institution of the church and I hoped it would help me feel less bitter about decisions or actions made. I loved the book, but 2020 was a difficult year and I found it hard to focus on the book so it kept being put down, I was on a roll and getting ready to finish it when I was told my role at church was being made redundant. This was another blow to my experience of church and made me question my faith as well as my sense of belonging as well as my calling. So I put the book down again so I could finish well in my role. It took all had had within me to face up for 6 weeks as I finished in my role, mostly because I felt hurt, and I was bruised, I wasn’t sure what was the plan for my life and I wasn’t sure where I belonged.   I returned to Adelaide and my home church for Christmas and during the Christmas Eve service I sat and cried, I found healing in the walls and pews of the congregation that welcomed me when I felt bruised and hurt last time. The congregation that expected nothing from me, but loved me unconditionally. They let me sit in the corner and cry week after week and they greeted me with a smile even when I didn’t smile back. They loved me when I told them I was queer, they loved me when I told them I was confused, they loved me when I told them that I was doubting my call and my faith. 

I think in breaking down the experience and rules of church I so strictly followed in my teens I’ve found freedom. Freedom to worship and pray and meditate and just be. Without expectations and rules and without the baggage of if I’m good enough, or doing it enough or Christian enough. I’m sick of the bullshit. I am who I am and I am with the I Am. I am a person of faith. I find hope in the life of Jesus. I see freedom in the love of God and I am hopeful that the institution of the church will continue to strive to live out the good news of love and hope for all.  I want to share that hope and love with those around me in relationships p, in conversations, and over good food and beverages.  If that means I don’t step foot in a church again, so be it, however I suspect the church isn’t quite ready for a church without an institution, so I might just have to keep rocking up for a while yet, so my voice is heard.