Healing Work

The healing is the work.

For a couple of weeks now, that phrase has been rattling around in my addled mind: the healing is the work. My mind is addled for very normal reasons - parenting, weird requests at work, and the baffling actions of people - and some reasons which I wish weren’t normal - a history of abuse in both my home and faith community. Since I’ve left the latter, I’ve often asked myself if I really experienced what I remember. Not in a gas-lighty way, but from a perspective that recognizes that there was nothing normal or acceptable about the way I was treated in that community. There’s very little that’s normal or acceptable about that community in general.

But now, a couple of years removed from the chaos, I’d like to move towards some real healing. At first, I was just trying to get my bearings and come to terms with the rug being snatched out from under me in such a vicious manner. I was trying to figure out what was my fault and what was theirs. Turns out, it took me quite awhile to regain my bearings and feel safe enough to live and move and have my being again. 

So, as I’ve spent the past month or so slowing down, I’ve asked God, “What is the work now?” I’m certainly not engaged in any active ministry work and I’ll never (sorry, everyone) put that kind of effort and care into my work at the Food Bank. It’s not that it doesn’t matter, it’s that it’s not what I was made for and it, thus, drains me slowly. I deeply enjoyed my seminary class last semester as I learned some new things and realized, once again, that I’m not crazy. All my ideas about a well-ordered Christian life and the life of a Christian community are not outlandish, but rather historical and deeply rooted in the narrative of the Scriptures.

As I continue to learn more and grow in my ability to help others in their spiritual formation, I’ve quietly heard from the Lord that my personal healing is the work that I must engage in now. For most of my life, I’ve engaged in the work of supporting and contributing to the healing of others, which has been meaningful and worthwhile. Now that I’ve sustained more than a few blows to my heart and soul as I was engaged in this work, it’s time to put that energy of renewal and restoration into myself so that I may work with others, in the future, the better. 

I’ve really fallen in love with understanding not only sin, but the devastation caused by it in medical terms. Yesterday, I was explaining to my husband that the wounds caused by others can still be exacerbated by him when he presses on them and tells me that they shouldn’t hurt. It’s true- my arm shouldn’t hurt when you press on it. But, if it’s wounded and needs time to heal, it will hurt when you press on it. There’s nothing that I can do about it. The pain that I “shouldn’t” feel isn’t a sign of a personal defect, but rather an indication that all is not well. My arm ought not to be punched and told not to hurt, but rather cared for until it is well again.

The trauma and abuse that I endured as part of a conservative, white, evangelical church and ministry organization left me with more than just a scrape or bruise on my upper arm. I’m not even sure that I could compare what I’m dealing with to a specific disease, but I do know that things hurt that shouldn’t. There are, otherwise, perfectly healthy parts of my mind and my soul that ache for no apparent reason when someone says something or looks at me in a slightly sideways fashion. Someone asked me recently where I thought I was on the road to healing from all of this and I said, “Not very far at all. I think that I may walk with a limp for the rest of my life”.

There are illnesses that we recover fully from and others that stay with us forever. Polio was an illness that left many crippled for life in the mid-twentieth century. They may have gotten over the acute disease, but they would never walk again. There are some injuries that I sustained during my decade in Radford that I’ll be able to fully recover from and they’ll never hurt again. Based on my experience with myself and other victims of abuse, however, there are some things that will be with me until Christ returns and sets everything right again. 

But the healing is the work.

When you’re recovering from a long illness, surgery, or injury, you often feel restless and like you’re not doing much. Many times, you’re just laying around, eating, taking medicine, and not doing much else. For many of us, me included, this does not feel like work. It feels like laziness and a waste of time. I’ve even said as much when I’ve fallen ill. But the truth is that it is not laziness. Your body needs to put all of its energy and strength into healing and recovery, not anything else. If you (I) try to ignore that and say that we’re being lazy, then we’ll make our condition worse. So it is with me heart and my soul: I need to put all my energy, wisdom, and collected knowledge into healing myself for awhile, not others. In doing that, I’m not selfish or lazy. I’m working with my mind, soul, and body for healing, which will result in a better me to love and serve others in the future.

My tendency in my own healing from religious abuse is to just keep going - to find the next thing, pursue the next person, find something meaningful to throw myself into. In this way, I can point to my performance and say, “Look! I’m totally fine. Lookie what I can do!” But, as much as I love Taylor Swift, doing it with a broken heart is not always a sign of strength. At least it’s not in my case. I tell myself that it’s been long enough and I’m far enough removed and I’m ready to really do something again. But what If I’m not? What if I’m treating a major, life-altering disease like the common cold? I could really hurt myself, and many others if I don’t take the time to heal and learn how to live with my new circumstances. (As an aside, I think that most of my abuse occurred because of others doing precisely this.)

Like many who were crippled by Polio, I can learn to live a full life, but it won’t be the same as it was. In my case, this might be for the better, but there’s still some adjusting and mourning to do along the way.

As much as I’d love to tell you that I’ve found the next thing and throw it in the faces of those who harmed me, I haven’t. I don’t know what kind of work I’ll get to engage in next for the healing of the world. But I do know that work is coming. I have hope that the Lord isn’t finished with my calling to the outcast and discarded of the church yet.

But, for now, the healing is the work.