Fourteen years ago I had just started this little blog and had about 2 or 3 readers.
That fall, I experienced what may well have been the most acute trauma of my life. But I didn’t even have the word “trauma” in my working vocabulary.
I’ve never told that story. The most I ever told was a blog post I wrote that fall about Psalm 131, quieting myself like a weaned child, a post that I republished in 2014 with a general sort of description. Here it is.
I’ve known for years that this brief but acute experience was one of the pieces of my life that the Lord used to bring me to the place of experiential understanding of trauma that I have now. It’s time to tell that story.
That fall, the fall of 2009, a relative was having an episode of severe mental illness. We shall call this relative “Shane.”
Because Shane was suffering and in the suffering was causing those around to suffer, Shane came to stay with us for a while, to allow for the others to have a break. All four of our children were still at home at that time, but it just so happened that Tim was away for an extended period on a business trip.
I began the experience with what I believed was strong faith, trusting that I could be of help in some way and the Lord would carry us through.
Shane was not sleeping and talked almost nonstop. Some of the talk was disturbing and over the days became more and more and more disturbing. One goal was to get Shane to the mental hospital, but that can be a tricky thing to accomplish. That is, if the individual doesn’t go willingly—and Shane believed there was no problem—then the person has to clearly be a threat to self or others before being taken against his or her will.
As Shane’s mental illness situation deteriorated over the following days, my own emotional state deteriorated as well. I was getting very little sleep. I was listening to increasingly disturbing talk over the days, talk that, to be frank, became increasingly blasphemous.
And the anger increased as well. I and even sometimes my children (though they were mostly spared) became brunts of the loud, angry lectures.
Shane got to the hospital after just about a week (and eventually got stabilized on medication). But in those few days, I was reduced to what felt like a fearful little mouse, scampering around trying to hide, trying to make phone calls, trying to get the help that was so desperately needed.
Maybe someday I’ll give more details about this experience. But for now I just want to say that I wish I could communicate properly how truly terrible it was.
I don’t really feel shame about my fear as I look back on it, but I certainly did feel shame about it at the time. I felt like my fear meant I had failed the Lord. I had lost faith.
Shane got to the hospital. I said to myself, “Now I can get finally back to the missionary book I was writing.” And I sat down at my computer to write.
But to my surprise, I couldn’t write. My head was bursting with Shane’s voice in my head, yelling. With confusion, with extremes of emotions.
If you will recall from the title of this blog post, I Didn’t Know What Trauma Was.
I went to bed in a fetal position. Shane’s voice continued to yell in my head.
I paced the floor, grasping my head, feeling like I was Christian from Pilgrim’s Progress, trying to get to the Palace Beautiful with rows of lions flanking me on both sides.
I felt attacked by demons, all yelling at me in Shane’s voice.
I got a hold of Ed Welch’s book Blame it on the Brain and read that, but I didn’t find any help there. I got David Powlison’s book Seeing with New Eyes: Counseling and the Human Condition Through the Lens of Scripture, but I couldn’t find help there either.
That’s when I parked in Psalm 131. This is the back story to the blog post I referenced above, written in what felt like the most feeble possible state.
Several years went by before I could look back on this experience and analyze it through a trauma-informed lens. More years have gone by before telling the story, in part because of my desire to speak discreetly about Shane, who is someone I care about very much.
When I read my Psalm 131 blog post now, I can see that it doesn’t even really communicate what I wanted to communicate. What I wanted to say was that I was weak and feeble and low and incapable and frankly, a mess. I felt like I was sitting behind David in the back of the cave, afraid but holding on to hope that there was someone there at the mouth of the cave, guarding it against the enemies that would like nothing better than to burst through and destroy me. Wanting to encourage others to continue hoping as I was barely able to hope myself.
And as I look again at Psalm 131 now, I am reminded again of the vital importance of strong, loving, faithful relationship with the Lord. Through all the trauma, I did still know that the Lord was faithful and would carry me through.
And He did.
That was why—though it was a difficult process—I could ultimately say “I have quieted myself.” It was, first, because the Lord wasn’t forcing me to do anything; instead, He was offering me something more. In keeping something I wanted from me, He invited me to something greater. Amazing. I still marvel at it.
When that episode with Shane began, I held what seemed to me like strong faith—I was sure that I would not waver in my confidence in the Lord—I ended the experience simply wanting to survive. My faith in the Lord didn’t look anything like what I thought it ought to look like.
It wasn’t a blazing glory. It was a weak candle flame.
At that time nothing crossed my mind about the Lord bringing any good out of it. Again, I simply wanted to survive and stay sane if possible.
But as Untwisting Scriptures #5 emphasizes, it is when we go through suffering in faith—even when that faith is small and weak—that the Lord will be glorified in the midst of our suffering. It isn’t the suffering itself that is glorifying to Him. It is the faith that is developed in the midst of it.
It was years later that I could look back and see that the experience of the fall of 2009 became one of the pieces of my life preparing me for my current work.
Untwisting Scriptures to Find Freedom and Joy in Jesus Christ: Book 5 Brokenness & Suffering is officially launching next week, on September 11th.
And Book Crafters Academy opens for applications next month. It offers exclusive group coaching with a Christian trauma-informed book coach (me), so you can finally write the nonfiction book God has laid on your heart.
It may take a while, it may take years, for you to be able to look back over your life and see how the Lord has so gently and masterfully worked. To see how even in those really bad experiences the Lord can work through the (small!) faith you have held, in order to lovingly craft something more, something beautiful.
I pray you’ll be able to see His good work, His light shining in the darkness. I pray you will know the “more” that He offers you in loving relationship.
Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor my eyes lofty:
neither do I exercise myself in great matters,
or in things too high for me.
Surely I have behaved and quieted myself,
as a child that is weaned of his mother:
my soul is even as a weaned child.
Let Israel hope in the LORD from now on and forever.
***
Go here to download your free Guide, How to Enjoy the Bible Again (when you’re ready) After Spiritual Abuse (without feeling guilty or getting triggered out of your mind). You’ll receive access to both print and audio versions of the Guide (audio read by me). I’m praying it will be helpful.
Thank you for sharing this part of your story. I needed to hear it today.
Hi..enjoy your post..did this experience that you wrote about lead
you to describe yourself as a ” trauma _ informed writer? “Trauma ” is somewhat of a new term for many of us. What comes to mind is a bad car accident. But is is probably much more relevant to us ” truth seekers” than we know. What resources would you recommend to learn more about the relevance of traumatic experiences?
A bad car accident is how I would have thought of trauma at that time. Or what a soldier experiences in war.
Since 2009, many things have informed me about trauma. At the time of the list I would put (1) listening to the people who speak to me and (2) studying. When it comes to studying, there are many excellent resources. “The Body Keeps the Score” is a great one to start with.
I like what you here share. Albeit I grasp the wisdom you convey, with a secular hermetic; a hermetic emphasising person-on-person empathy above all else.
Where you speak of Shane becoming blasphemous: I read that as Shane empathising with your faith mediated being. Where you speak of being overwhelmed and being behind David; I read you as powerfully empathising with Shane. Where you speak of being assailed by Shane’s voice; I read that as you processing through the loading your empathy with Shane had yielded. The anger too seems taken on empathetically from the midst of Shane’s being. In every moment of this you are become the instrument of the dynamics of his being expressing themselves, revealing themselves, allowing them to be addresses and perhaps changed.
Then there is everything that leads to you being quieted. I read that as you processing through what Shane was being defeated by, to yield up exactly what Shane needed if he was to become free of what assailed him.
When, with less intensity, I have been doing this with others: I have found it necessary to take the healing harvest of eventual quieting, back to our Shane’s, but bereft of what in me had undergirded the outcome: which seems pretty close to me to what you say of the Lord in your case; at best we can be agents of a greater truth
Sometimes our Shane’s being persons we continue to “care about very much”, is the limit of what we individually can do, but where we have done our best to see a far greater power positioned to continue the healing.
I have friends who were married to mentally ill spouses who refused to get stable on medication. These friends had to get away to survive, even though they cared about their spouses. Believe me, I understand.
Colin,
Have you taken CPE, or are you a CPE educator?
Well said! It was just what I needed in this phase of my life (also 65) when everyone closest to me seems to be losing his or her mind. I often wonder why God allows this to happen. How can he be glorified in the midst of his people behaving and speaking badly? Thank you for showing me what it looks like after you’ve reached the light at the end of a long dark tunnel.
Thank you, Sheila. A friend pointed out that I had my age wrong–I’m actually 66. I guess when we get up here in the stratosphere, we lose track.
Thank you for letting me know because I thought I saw 65 and then came back to this and saw 66. I said to myself, “Oh no, I may be the one who has a problem!” I used to accidentally add a year to my age but now I subtract. When my godly Bible believing mother-in-law died at age 94, people were surprised to find out the date of birth on her birth certificate didn’t match the date she had always told them was her birthday. My husband had the correct date engraved on her headstone and upset some folks because of it. He knows better than to blindly follow people. I am still shocked and disappointed by what we sinners are capable of. All my hope and trust is in Christ alone to save us.
Haha, well, I didn’t do it on purpose. It was just one of those slip-ups that I’m prone to.
Beautifully written! Happy Birthday!
That was such a heart-wrenching experience that you went thru, Rebecca. I love how you described your sufferings w/ such honesty of emotions. Praise God for His faithfulness in speaking to you thru Psalm 131 & in other ways as well.
Amen, yes.
Wow, Rebecca. This piece is so powerful – in many ways overwhelming. The depth of emotion associated with your experience is deeply felt.
Trauma is a blind-siding force. The lack of cause, context and comprehension can rip the emotional/spiritual rug right out from under us. Regaining our footing is a slow, methodical, painful process. I’ve been through a couple similar experiences and, like you, it took a LONG time to find the tools I needed to help me detach and begin to heal. But I must admit that the scars remain.
Nevertheless, God uses it all. Those experiences sow compassion in us for others who have been through trauma as well as those who have been exposed to it second-hand.
Rebecca, I appreciate your decision to revisit this hard season and share what you learned. I’m sure there are many who need to read this so they too can begin to find healing and peace.
Thank you so much, Cindy. You are a continual blessing to me.
Thank you I as many of us have lived and continue to live this daily . I never found much help within my Christian community which is why I now share my experiences in front of everyone . This has allowed others to come to me quietly so that I can provide that support
I pray that more in the Christian community will come to understand, as more of us speak.
Beautifully written, Rebecca. You have good insight. Faith is what glorifies God. After all, He says that anyone who comes to Him must have trust as a child trusts in their caregivers. Your faith has glorified God and while God does not celebrate our suffering, He walks beside us through it and celebrates our growth. He understands your grief, anger, and overwhelm in the midst of suffering. And He offers us rest.
Amen! Thank you, Regina!
I read this tearfully. I’m still looking forward to the day Ill be able to look back at my own traumatic experience and confidently say God used it for good and for His glory (I sometimes even hesitate to call it trauma but it – growing up in absolute terror of the end times in 2012 and the imminent arrival of the antichrist + the fact that losing your salvation could be as easy as getting a tattoo or a chip – shaped my life in such a negative way that I’m still in the phase of Trying to Survive This. 2020 severely re-triggered me in this regard and set back my progress by years. Sometimes I fear it will still affect my faith negatively. But I still have the hope that one day I will be able to make sense of all of this – I know that in God’s timeline, it all Does make sense!)
Alexandra, I’m with you. I had never thought about all the end-times discussions around the family dinner table when I was growing up as traumatic, but I think they were, because I got stomachaches and couldn’t eat. Lots of end-times sermons and that classic end-times movie “A Thief in the Night,” which terrified me. Yeah . . .
I pray that you’ll truly be able to know God as He really is and know that your salvation is safe in Him.
Thank you very much for your encouraging words!