Nowadays, I’m pretty careful about how much I share with people. But not too long ago, I decided to take a small risk and share a little of my true feelings about God with a small group of Christians. We were reading something about how God is always there for us. The official Christian “party line” on this idea is to feel glad and grateful that God will never leave you, but those aren’t my feelings. I have some real fears of God and I grew up feeling trapped by him and my dad, so these kinds of messages give me anxiety.

I shared this honestly in front of some people who had shown some sensitivity to emotional messes in life, and I hoped that they would be supportive. They had already seen a panic attack from me, and they responded pretty well to that. I didn’t explain my panic attack, however – that might have created a very different outcome.

So when I shared that always having God near me caused anxiety, this group was sweet but not wholely safe. A few people there knew my history, and one of them suggested that there might be something wrong in my theology that’s causing my anxiety.

So if I study a few more verses of the Bible or take a class, my anxiety might go away?? If anxiety were something that a study in theology could solve, I’m pretty sure there would be a LOT more people in seminary…

This is another example of a deadly infection in the church and in humanity itself: the need to give advice when someone isn’t asking for it – and to someone who could use something else entirely. It’s a common human ailment, but it’s the worst among Christians, who feel their particular duty is to throw the truth around like cheap confetti, without regard to its applicability. The Christian community has taken the Watchman metaphor in Ezekiel 33, applied it to every possible interaction, and given themselves license to say whatever comes in their heads. This approach has more to do with guilt-avoidance than anything else. It’s a cowardly way to avoid their responsibility to love and carry one another’s burdens, which sometimes requires kindness and silence. Gasp! And it’s pride that treats everything like a nail when all you have is a hammer. It’s a noxious gas that hurting people need to flee for the sake of their own safety and sanity.

So in the spirit of giving advice where it’s not wanted, here’s my advice! …but seriously, this is a plea for water in a desert wasteland…

When a person has been abused and they are struggling from its effects – especially if they have been abused by someone who was responsible to care and provide for them – they need very little information, and they don’t need advice. But there are a few things that every survivor needs desperately, which require the fruit of the Spirit.

This is what they do need:

1. They need someone to grieve the abuse in front of them.

Be sad. Be angry! Be confused. In my case, there was no one who could demonstrate for me that abuse mattered. It was modeled to me in 1000 ways that getting molested just wasn’t worth worrying about. This experience creates as much or more damage than the original trauma, and presenting advice as the cure only reinforces the lie. By contrast, witnessing the silent tears of a friend for my sake was a turning point in my recovery.

A word of caution: don’t be so expressive that you don’t give the survivor a chance to express themselves! Just set an example and give them a chance to follow, if they can.

2. They need someone to respect their limitations.

By definition, abuse ignores the victim’s limitations. Time, emotion, desire, choice, and energy are all finite resources even in a healthy individual. In an abused person, stewardship of these resources is either non-existent or backwards. This is a direct result of abuse; the abuser delights in the vulnerability and powerlessness that they get to exploit, which breaks down the victim’s basic ability to steward these resources – if they ever knew how. Set an example by respecting your own limitations and theirs. Don’t add to the pressure to ignore our finite human condition. Defend and cherish these limitations. Often.

3. They need someone to honor them for trying to live beyond abuse.

I may have a hard time staying connected to reality for a full day, and my life has shrunk down to a fraction of what it used to be, but still…I haven’t molested anyone (I don’t think), and I haven’t killed myself. And now I’m more of a human than a robot. Every day that this continues to be true is a miraculous victory over evil and a testimony to the power of God, but an abuse survivor is stifled by despair. There are some powerful reasons for this, which cannot be wiped away in a moment. Be gently hopeful for us, and accept that we may not be able to hope for ourselves.

Thanks.