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A few months after I left my church, I visited a church similar to it in another city. You know, the kind that gives you a brown paper gift bag with a church-branded coffee mug in it when you come in the door as a first-time guest. Forgive me for sounding cynical, but I had just become so disillusioned with the modern-day church and I had grown weary of some of the strategies used to win people over.
Anyway, I attended this particular Sunday with my two boys, who had some friends at this church. We went in and sat down, and I was fully prepared to sit there arms crossed and sans emotions as the “show” commenced. My teenagers said hi to their friends and everyone looked happy to see us there.
The lights dimmed and the music started, with the typical cheerful tone of a young, beautiful, smiling worship leader urging us to get off our duffs and get to worshiping. We all stood and looked up at the screens for the first lyrics. This was all a very familiar practice for me, as this was a typical evangelical church in 2022. But what happened next was anything but typical.
Suddenly, my heart started to race. I felt my breath increasing and I went from mumbling the words to the song to not being able to move my mouth. I looked around me at all of these joyful Christians worshiping seemingly without effort. Nothing was holding them back. But I felt like I was completely out of place. I had the strongest sense I didn’t belong and I didn’t know why.
A woman who recognized me from my kids’ summer camp spotted me and came over to greet me. She reached out to hug me and with the worship music playing in the background, I just lost it. I was only an acquaintance of this woman, and yet everything within me wanted to cry out to her for help. It was as if I had been kidnapped and I recognized someone who could rescue me and take me home to safety. It was really the strangest feeling.
She walked away to find her seat and I completely lost it at this point. I shuffled out of the row past my boys and made a beeline straight for the door. It was raining terribly hard outside, and I ran through the parking lot and jumped into my car soaked from head to toe. Besides being aware of my humanness by being cold and wet and shivering, I then proceeded to have a full on panic attack right then and there in my minivan.
I should clarify that this church had done nothing wrong, nothing to offend. No one had hurt me there. But for some reason, I just couldn’t stay in the service.
I felt everything…anger, grief, confusion…I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t sit through a simple church service like I had done every single Sunday for -well- my entire life. I hadn’t been to church in months, so why could I not just “go back”? What on earth happened?
As I later learned with the help of a counselor and reading some material about spiritual abuse and religious trauma, what I had was basically a traumatic response to a trigger.
I had also noticed that for several months I could not listen to worship music or read many Bible passages. Also, I had zero desire to attend church.
There were certain songs that triggered me more than others. I could picture myself at my old church, eyes closed, feeling God’s presence near and asking Him to reveal His purpose for my life, which I felt was being lived out in that particular church. Now certain lyrics that I kept in my heart as a sort-of mantra, a theme for my life, were just a painful memory of a place that I felt used me until I had nothing left to give, then discarded me. My “purpose” had turned to pain.
There was a Bible verse from Corinthians that a former pastor had used in a meeting that left me with scars. If that verse shows up anywhere, anytime, it is as if my ears, mind, and heart are all on fire and I have to douse it immediately. My hands go over my ears, or my fingers turn the page. I just can’t tolerate it. That passage and my pastor’s harsh words that accompanied it had wounded me deeply.
Music, scripture, and any other elements of a church service have a tendency to trigger people who have experienced abuse or toxic church environments. It is completely normal, though extremely unpleasant, and I had to learn to show myself grace. I learned it was okay to avoid church, worship music, and certain scriptures for a while so that I could rest my mind and allow God to heal my heart.
So, if you find yourself unable to attend church, listen to your favorite songs that used to move you or read scriptures that brought you comfort, you are not alone. Give yourself grace. Give yourself time. Allow your mind to be quiet for a while and have a relief from the things that bring up painful memories. It’s okay, really. Many hugs to you, my friends. I know what you are going through is very painful.