This post, written by Kate Wiebe, originally was published on November 30, 2015, on our previous website. One of the frequent tips that we offer ministers after crises is guidelines for talking with their congregations after crises. Communication is one of the three keys to healing after trauma. Communicating well with a congregation especially is critical to healing after collective trauma. You can learn more about communication and guides for communication with congregations and staffs in our Resource Guides, available on the ICTG Training page. As ICTG directors and advisors – in our experience as leaders who have deployed to post-disaster sites, as leading scholars in the fields of pastoral theology, congregational care, spiritual formation, and youth ministry, and as professionals certified in critical incident debriefing – we have found the following practices most helpful following collective trauma:
These are some of the tips we've gathered over the years and shared with one another. You may have found other points helpful too. Or, perhaps you experienced times or circumstances where these points needed correction for your community. We'd love to hear from you! Feel free to share your experience, wisdom, and questions in the comments below. You can sustain free online education by making a financial contribution today or becoming a monthly donor. Thank you for your generosity!
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This post, written by Kate Wiebe, originally was published on October 14, 2015, on our previous website. Do your circumstances determine your quality of life? It's a question that Victor Frankl made famous through his personal curiosity, exploration, and championing. In considering a person's search for meaning, I want to consider here in particular quality of living. What determines it? What's it's source? Perhaps, as Frankl writes, quality of living is rooted in a person's sense of ultimately meaning or purpose. I think it's source also is in a person's senses of value. What values are non-negotiable and inform your senses of what's most meaningful and purposeful beyond yourself? I've wrestled with these questions for many years, and they surfaced again in recent conversations with friends and colleagues. Topics of gun-control, not withstanding. For example, a friend recently recalled a time when her husband and she were considering whether or not to have a gun in the house for protection. The conversation eventually came down to the fact that, at least for a brief time, they seemed to stand on separate sides of what was the ultimate goal of having a gun in the house. Essentially, they wondered together, did they want to protect themselves and their home or did they want the ability to kill someone, if deemed necessary? One felt strongly about the importance of having the ability to protect themselves and their home up to the line of ever killing another person, while the other felt that killing another person might be part of the overall package of having the ability to protect themselves and their home. Their conversation shifted then to values, and, ultimately to the value of human life regardless of circumstances. As with this conversation, I think a lot about personal values, outside circumstances, and quality of living. Mainly because trauma renders all of those concepts so raw and real – moments of reckoning I encounter frequently. Trauma begs the question: What determines quality of living? In my mind, this is a critical question for ministers to host. Because the answer to this question informs the quality of ministries among congregations and communities that have been forever changed by trauma. So, how do ministers host a question like this one? Here's a couple ways: – Encourage small groups and Bible study groups to consider these questions:
– Create a sermon or sermon series around these questions. – Create a pastoral care tip sheet that encourages members in developing personal and family habits that enhance good quality of living. Do you have other ideas? Have you seen other practices work well among your congregation? Share your thoughts in the comments below. Help sustain free online education by making a financial contribution today or becoming a monthly donor. Thank you for your generosity!
The following post by Melissa Marley-Bonnichsen originally was published on September 16, 2015 on our previous website. The returning back to college and university campuses at the start of the year is an exciting time for many students. The energy, like static electricity, moves through the air in those days and nights leading up the start of the semester; this feeling is truly magical. There is so much anticipation, joy, and excitement going around that it almost feels electric. While some wait till the last minute to return to campus, many choose to return Saturday morning, some even Friday night, eager to move back into the dorms in hopes to squeeze a couple more drops out of summer, enjoying this time with their peers whom they have missed and are now trying to reconnect with. It feels like this is what college is all about and excitement for the school year builds, opening student’s hearts and minds to what is ahead. It is one of the most exciting and anticipatory times on campus, but for some it serves as a reminder of how different they are, now, than from when they left that space months ago. Instead of excitement being their dominant emotion they feel isolated from the joy their peers seem to bask in as grief and loss run their course. They have come back to campus but they are not the same, something in their lives has changed. For these students whose summer has been interrupted by loss, grief or crisis, these days of joy and excitement can be difficult and isolating. Regardless of the experience – parents divorcing, a death of a loved one or pet, loss of a home, a community torn apart, a major life event that has altered their story, or a messy and painful breakup, these students are in the midst of their dark night and are walking through the shadow of death – and perhaps they are going unnoticed. As our academic communities re-adjourn this fall let us remember to support those who are hurting from trauma experienced over the summer. There are many things you and your communities can do, including simply being there for these students, but here are some suggestions that might truly communicate to students in need that you care and can support them through this difficult time. Create Space for Grief and Lament This space can be physical or structural. This might mean reserving a hall/campus chapel for those experiencing grief and loss or for those who might want to lift up prayers or lament. It may mean creating space in a morning worship session for moments of remembrance so people can call to mind their grief and allow them to lift thoughts, names, or prayer to God. It may mean offering a space to light candles to honor others, regardless, sacred space is important in working through our grief. I have found that even some of the folks who desire to stay away from religion still are drawn to beautiful, holy things – if you create a space like this people will come. I remember when our favorite cat passed away. Her illness came on quick and for whatever reason she was not responding to any of the help we obtained for her. When I asked if she was suffering and the vet looked at me with sympathetic loving eyes and told us yes, we knew we had to say goodbye. While enduring such a difficult moment the animal hospital was incredibly helpful and supportive to my family and I. It was both beautiful and amazing how this organization handled death with such incredible dignity. In the facility there was a beautiful sacred room that had been created for goodbyes and they gave everyone a pet loss journal which for 30 days would walk someone who had experienced the loss of a pet through their grief, while leaving many pages for one’s own lament. Additionally they offered memory days where you could go once a month to the hospital and sit with art therapists who would help you design a memory box or picture frame to remember your little loved one by. Their approach to others grief and lament was holistic as our approach should also be. Let them know that they are not alone Especially at a time when students are sharing eagerly their summer adventures with each other, students who have stories of loss or trauma can feel like the odd woman/man out. Because of this it is important that we continue to let our struggling students know that they are not alone – both in grieving on campus and within their own suffering – as Jesus walks with them through every moment, sigh, and tear. If support groups in your community or on your campus exist, please make sure this resource is widely available. Campus vigils dedicated to loss of loved ones are often held throughout the semester- especially if a student in the college or university community has passed away. Advertising open moments for gathering at a sacred space will also allow your students to see that they are not alone and that others are also on their own journeys towards healing. Finally, working with the student affairs community on campus or meeting with hall directors briefly at the beginning of the year and sharing about resources from your community or your work will be helpful in promoting opportunities for students to find others who are experiencing loss and grief. Let them know that their story will not end here When the moment is right, after much discerning on your part, encourage them to remember that this is not the end of their story, although it may feel like it. Working through loss, grief, and trauma is a long process with many stages, but movement through these stages is very helpful and students will eventually get through all of them. It is in this place we can evoke the phoenix metaphor; rising from the fire and ash we are transformed, different people who have come back but are not the same. This too adds to our stories and it is important that our students understand this. From my own tradition, and in my work among Catholic and Protestant Christians at the University of Notre Dame, I find it is also important that students know that they are never alone in their suffering, that Jesus was with them every step of the way. In this moment the famous prayer by Thomas Merton is made manifest… "My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always, though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone." With open arms and warm hearts let us walk prayerfully with those who have experienced deep loss or trauma over the summer and help them transition well into the school year and beyond. You can sustain free online education by making a financial contribution today or becoming a monthly donor. Thank you for your generosity!
This post originally was published on June 30, 2015, on our previous website. Several years ago, my sister moved to a new city and began seeking out a new Protestant church home. One Sunday morning she visited a church and after the worship service went to the welcome table to find out more information about how young adults could get involved with the congregation. The woman at the desk became flustered said couldn't find the pamphlets for young adults, but if my sister would wait a moment the woman would go look for them. Thinking it would just be a minute or two, my sister agreed. Many minutes went by though, and in the meantime, other visitors approached the desk looking for information. Being the creative, present person that she is, each time my sister would glance around the table and find the pamphlet that fit what the person was looking for. Each time, she and the visitor would chat a bit, and eventually laugh that this was both of their first times visiting, and how no one was really attending the welcome center. After more than twenty minutes, my sister walked out. There's lots of things we could say about this experience, but the thing I want to focus on – the part that has to do with congregations being healthy and nurturing environments – is the fact that these days, the vast majority of visitors do not need a pamphlet. Maybe a small card with contact information. What people need most today is other caring people to welcome them. Not one person at the church my sister visited ever found out, or ever inquired to find out, that my sister was brand new to the city and looking for a new church home and even was hopeful that this one might be it. No one found out my sister's name, got her contact information, or went about any of the things that caring people often do to welcome a person who has recently moved. Moving is not traumatic – though, on the other hand, you might have a story of how it was for you! But moving does share some of the qualities of feeling traumatized, including isolation, instability, foreignness, sadness or depression, and loss of normal routines. As we see in the example above, care is important at any stage of life. And, it is especially important in the aftermath of trauma. Further more, as faithful people, we cannot afford to ignore the current studies about how pervasive experiences of trauma are throughout our country today. How we care for one another in the aftermath of trauma will make all the difference. About two years ago, we provided a blog post on the Seven Key Traits of Trauma-informed Congregations. There's no time like the present to revisit these all-important practices. Trauma experts say that three practices make up the essence of how trauma-informed care begins and takes shape among congregations. Congregations who practice those disciplines bring the following traits to bear and, in turn, create environments that heal trauma effectively and consistently are life-giving. Three Practices Safe, trustworthy relationships Group relaxation and self-regulation Sharing life stories honestly In our Resource Guide, ICTG has come to call these practices "the three C's": community, calming, and communication. If that's helpful to you to remember them – great. However you keep these practices in mind, they will make a tremendous difference for you and your loved ones. Seven Traits 1. Acknowledge the scope of adverse experiences common to persons today. The ACEstudy has helped the medical community, law enforcement, legal institutions, NGOs, and faith communities all begin to see how adverse childhood experiences directly correlate with adult illnesses. Based on their work, we now know that almost 50% of all children in the United States today will experience one, two, or more traumatic events or never know what it is to feel safe as a child before they turn 18 years-old. Trauma-informed congregations recognize these facts and build their mission, vision, and ministry programs in light of this common understanding. 2. Recognize the impact and communicate what happened. Like acknowledging the scope of experiences the congregation has endured, trauma-informed congregations sense how those experiences impact individual and corporate life. They expect that the ripple-effects of emotional and biological reactions are far-reaching, and they make spaces for communicating what happened through liturgy, song, prayer, sacrament, testimonies, theater, addiction and abuse recovery programs, and small groups. 3. Compassionate curiosity within safe boundaries. Trauma-informed congregation continue to build a community resource network and, as staff and lay people, they train to provide safe places for people to share "what happened". They are compassionately curious, and interested to bear witness honestly to adverse experience from the past that may be influencing fear or defense tactics in the present. They view forms of "acting out" as new opportunities for building trustworthy and emotionally safe relationships. 4. Group and self-regulation. Life is emotional. There's many highs and lows in any given day or week, especially with broad access to mass and social media platforms. Trauma-informed congregations create reliable rhythms for calming, centering, breathing deeply and steadily together through song or prayer or times of silence, and for reminding one another of the pathways through the valleys of the shadows of death. 5. Reliably caring relationships. Trauma-informed congregations actively build and sustain trustworthy, hospitable, joyful, loving relationships. They understand that these kinds of relationships are vital to creating resilience. 6. Purpose. Members of trauma-informed congregations show up ready to participate in the corporate meaning-making they share. Their enthusiasm is contagious. Unlike flashy marketing or manipulative pleas for service, they are excited to make space to listen to one another and to grow in renewed understandings of what is truly life-giving to the persons involved in the body of the congregation. Rather than trying to fix persons problems for them, trauma-informed congregations are marked by directing interventions and healing practices that are created by and driven by persons-in-healing being served and growing in their own senses of what truly is resourceful. 7. Ongoing Self-Care. Trauma-informed congregants understand that healing is a high-impact sport. You cannot care for others without being touched by what's happened. That is why they intentionally practice personal care to sustain their abilities to care for others. For example, they allow themselves to be held accountable by trustworthy friends or colleagues. They identify specific personal limits. They maintain current and effective referral practices for when they are hearing about or addressing needs that go beyond their abilities and to encourage safety. They practice life-giving work and life rhythms, including regular exercise, sleep, eating, and leisure. As congregations cultivate these hallmarks, they express a sense of living in the world today that directly counters the traumatic effects that pervade our society now. Help sustain free online education and blogging by making a financial contribution today or becoming a monthly donor. Thank you for your generosity!
This post, written by Doug Ranck, originally was published on March 28, 2017, on the ICTG blog.
The date had been on the books for months. The idea had originated months before the date was set. When reaching out to train a bunch of “busy” youth workers one must be very strategic to capture their attention, invite their ownership, sell them on the need for investing their prized funds and time in worthy training.
Kate Wiebe, ICTG’s Executive Director, and I had many thoughts on creating training for our local youth leaders to offer some basic equipping in post-trauma response. We bounced around dates; we brainstormed on content and flow. Mid-autumn I was invited to Spring Arbor University to lead training for youth leaders around Southern Michigan. One of my modules focused on trauma response. With the expert help of Kate and the Powerpoint help of Communications Coordinator Isabel Sterne, we created a concise but meaty presentation. With this training as our foundation, Kate and I prepared a longer training for the youth leaders and pastors in the Santa Barbara, California area. On the first week of March, we were pleased to spend time with youth and children’s workers from nine different churches. There was plenty of time for presentation, questions, and practical application. Feedback was positive, and leaders responded with clarity toward their next steps. Within a week and a half, there were two separate deaths of high school seniors, just eighteen years of age, from our local area. One was killed on a railroad track not heeding the repeated horn blowing of a train and another after falling sixty feet from a seaside bluff. The cause of these deaths is still not confirmed, but the events shook our community no matter how we would term them. An overflowing school auditorium packed to remember the life of one while hundreds came to a candlelight vigil for the other. Schools and teachers offered counseling and consolation. Now, however, there were some new team players. Buoyed by training and some basic tools youth leaders began responding as we sent out the word to our network about the tragic deaths. One youth leader initiated a text group so we might keep each other in prayer and be updated on ways we could collaborate. Another youth leader got permission for the church to open its doors for those who would like to come for spiritual counseling and prayer. Others reported they had spent time debriefing with their groups on Sundays and mid-week meetings. Others offered to be available to anybody who would need to talk or just need the presence of another. At the risk of sounding cliché, it’s not if but when. There will be trauma on individual and corporate levels. As we are prepared when the time comes we will not find ourselves like deer in headlights but like a professional musician or athlete who has prepared well through practice, strategic thinking, repetition, and focus. In the chaos of the emotion, we may feel uncertainty, but our preparation will have served to provide an external non-anxious presence giving hope and a measure of confidence to those who feel the shock, loss, and pain of an event for which they could not have predicted nor prepared. I live in earthquake country. We are told to prepare yet, so few do. On the day we realize the power of moving earth, the lack of power and limited transportation options we will wish we heeded the wisdom of preparation. The same is true of trauma. There is power in preparation for trauma. Just ask us.
If you are looking for further resources and training with your youth and children’s ministries, please do not hesitate to contact us. We would love to help you prepare.
You can help ICTG host more training events, like the Trauma Response & Youth Ministry Training (described above), by donating today.
The Institute originally published this post on June 10, 2015, on our previous website. Here, we are honored to welcome guest blogger, Rev. Dr. David Holyan, senior pastor of First Presbyterian Church of Kirkwood, St Louis, MO. This series of blog postings has dug up a lot of memories and tears. I'm grateful for Kate (Rev. Dr. Wiebe's) continuing prodding to write about 'vocational trauma'. It is not easy to expose the deep soul wounds which I carry within. But I am grateful for a place that honors the reality of trauma and growth and appreciates the humanness of a christian's divine calling to serve others in the name of Jesus the Christ. There is a wisdom that comes from living through a congregational trauma that destroys the foundations of your sense of call. I have collected bits and fragments of goodness and continue to rebuild my sense of 'call'. I continue to chaff at the idea of being the 'shooting pastor', of having my identity tied to the shooting in Kirkwood and the work I have done because of it. I have learned much and now I want to offer (gently) some of the wisdom I have learned from crawling through the darkness of a vocational trauma. Thou art with me There were days when I yelled “BULLSHIT!” to the promise that God was 'with me' as I crawled around in the darkest parts of my soul. But I realize now that God was with me. All of my 'best friends' not just in ministry but in life, entered my life as a direct result of the shooting. My best friend is the pastor from Florida who showed up in my office that day after the shooting in Kirkwood. Another friend is the woman who I met at the discernment class for being a part of Presbyterian Disaster Assistance's National Response Team. She too had experienced a trauma in the congregation she served near Chicago. Two more friends are the people I deployed to Tucson with. All of these people are now my friends and none of them would be in my life if it were not for the shooting in Kirkwood. Peace be with you I teach 'Vocational Resilience' to MDiv students at Eden Seminary. One of the assignments is to write out a 'trauma autobiography'. I have read, with horror, about the experiences of others. And, because I have tasted the bitterness of my own tears, I can offer those students 'peace', an invitation to wholeness. Jesus continually offered 'peace' to his disciples. As a result of my sitting with the reality of my own vocational brokenness, I can now sit with the brokenness of others and see 'vocation' emerge from the shards. The students are often worried they are 'too messed up' to go into ministry. Inside I chuckle and thank God because I wouldn't want to be pastored by anyone who hasn't wrestled in the dark. My cup overflows I have come to realize that it is the small cup that overflows first. Prior to the shooting my vocation was driven by grand desires to build the church and change the world. Now, my vocational agenda is much smaller: preach a nice sermon, be present to those in front of me, be attentive to the leading of the Spirit, etc. While the congregation I serve has done 'big things' since the shooting (for example, we installed a new pipe organ in 2014), I am learning to be at peace by intentionally diminishing my need to accomplish tremendous vocational goals. While the Spirit may use me to build the church and change the world, I will let that be the Spirit's work and worry. After a much needed sabbatical to Scotland last summer, I came home with two personal invitations: to live closer to the ground and to live a smaller life. While I'm still not sure what either invitation means, I can tell you I no longer feel guilty when I leave Kirkwood to stand in the White River in NW Arkansas and catch a trout on a Japanese fiberglass fly rod I built with a fly I tied. It is standing in the water that my soul is restored and I become aware that goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord my whole life long. Learn more about personal care and developing trauma-informed ministries through our resource guides and services.
Sustain free online education by making a financial contribution today. Thank you for your generosity! The Institute originally published this post by Executive Director Kate Wiebe on June 30, 2015, on our previous website. Several years ago, my sister moved to a new city and began seeking out a new Protestant church home. One Sunday morning she visited a church and after the worship service went to the welcome table to find out more information about how young adults could get involved with the congregation. The woman at the desk became flustered said couldn't find the pamphlets for young adults, but if my sister would wait a moment the woman would go look for them. Thinking it would just be a minute or two, my sister agreed. Many minutes went by though, and in the meantime, other visitors approached the desk looking for information. Being the creative, present person that she is, each time my sister would glance around the table and find the pamphlet that fit what the person was looking for. Each time, she and the visitor would chat a bit, and eventually laugh that this was both of their first times visiting, and how no one was really attending the welcome center. After more than twenty minutes, my sister walked out. There's lots of things we could say about this experience, but the thing I want to focus on – the part that has to do with congregations being healthy and nurturing environments – is the fact that these days, the vast majority of visitors do not need a pamphlet. Maybe a small card with contact information. What people need most today is other caring people to welcome them. Not one person at the church my sister visited ever found out, or ever inquired to find out, that my sister was brand new to the city and looking for a new church home and even was hopeful that this one might be it. No one found out my sister's name, got her contact information, or went about any of the things that caring people often do to welcome a person who has recently moved. Moving is not traumatic – though, on the other hand, you might have a story of how it was for you! But moving does share some of the qualities of feeling traumatized, including isolation, instability, foreignness, sadness or depression, and loss of normal routines. As we see in the example above, care is important at any stage of life. And, it is especially important in the aftermath of trauma. Further more, as faithful people, we cannot afford to ignore the current studies about how pervasive experiences of trauma are throughout our country today. How we care for one another in the aftermath of trauma will make all the difference. About two years ago, we provided a blog post on the Seven Key Traits of Trauma-informed Congregations. There's no time like the present to revisit these all-important practices. Trauma experts say that three practices make up the essence of how trauma-informed care begins and takes shape among congregations. Congregations who practice those disciplines bring the following traits to bear and, in turn, create environments that heal trauma effectively and consistently are life-giving. Three Practices
In our Resource Guide, ICTG has come to call these practices "the three C's": community, calming, and communication. If that's helpful to you to remember them – great. However you keep these practices in mind, they will make a tremendous difference for you and your loved ones. Seven Traits 1. Acknowledge the scope of adverse experiences common to persons today. The ACEstudy has helped the medical community, law enforcement, legal institutions, NGOs, and faith communities all begin to see how adverse childhood experiences directly correlate with adult illnesses. Based on their work, we now know that almost 50% of all children in the United States today will experience one, two, or more traumatic events or never know what it is to feel safe as a child before they turn 18 years-old. Trauma-informed congregations recognize these facts and build their mission, vision, and ministry programs in light of this common understanding. 2. Recognize the impact and communicate what happened. Like acknowledging the scope of experiences the congregation has endured, trauma-informed congregations sense how those experiences impact individual and corporate life. They expect that the ripple-effects of emotional and biological reactions are far-reaching, and they make spaces for communicating what happened through liturgy, song, prayer, sacrament, testimonies, theater, addiction and abuse recovery programs, and small groups. 3. Compassionate curiosity within safe boundaries. Trauma-informed congregation continue to build a community resource network and, as staff and lay people, they train to provide safe places for people to share "what happened". They are compassionately curious, and interested to bear witness honestly to adverse experience from the past that may be influencing fear or defense tactics in the present. They view forms of "acting out" as new opportunities for building trustworthy and emotionally safe relationships. 4. Group and self-regulation. Life is emotional. There's many highs and lows in any given day or week, especially with broad access to mass and social media platforms. Trauma-informed congregations create reliable rhythms for calming, centering, breathing deeply and steadily together through song or prayer or times of silence, and for reminding one another of the pathways through the valleys of the shadows of death. 5. Reliably caring relationships. Trauma-informed congregations actively build and sustain trustworthy, hospitable, joyful, loving relationships. They understand that these kinds of relationships are vital to creating resilience. 6. Purpose. Members of trauma-informed congregations show up ready to participate in the corporate meaning-making they share. Their enthusiasm is contagious. Unlike flashy marketing or manipulative pleas for service, they are excited to make space to listen to one another and to grow in renewed understandings of what is truly life-giving to the persons involved in the body of the congregation. Rather than trying to fix persons problems for them, trauma-informed congregations are marked by directing interventions and healing practices that are created by and driven by persons-in-healing being served and growing in their own senses of what truly is resourceful. 7. Ongoing Self-Care. Trauma-informed congregants understand that healing is a high-impact sport. You cannot care for others without being touched by what's happened. That is why they intentionally practice personal care to sustain their abilities to care for others. For example, they allow themselves to be held accountable by trustworthy friends or colleagues. They identify specific personal limits. They maintain current and effective referral practices for when they are hearing about or addressing needs that go beyond their abilities and to encourage safety. They practice life-giving work and life rhythms, including regular exercise, sleep, eating, and leisure. As congregations cultivate these hallmarks, they express a sense of living in the world today that directly counters the traumatic effects that pervade our society now. Learn more about developing trauma-informed ministries through our resource guides and services. Sustain free online education by making a contribution today. Thank you for your generosity!
The Institute originally published this post on May 26, 2015, on our previous website. Here, we are honored to welcome Rev. Dr. David Holyan, senior pastor of First Presbyterian Church of Kirkwood, St Louis, MO. On the morning of February 7, 2013 I got a text message on my phone, “Thinking of you all on this important day.” I can remember thinking how odd it was that the sender would know that I was 5 minutes from beginning a clergy retreat in Newtown, CT. The sender, a responder whom I met in the aftermath of the shooting in Kirkwood, and I had not been in touch in some time. And then it struck me: February 7, 2013, five years to the day, the shooting in Kirkwood had happened. I was about to begin an ecumenical all-day clergy retreat in Newtown, CT on the anniversary of the shooting in Kirkwood AND I had FORGOTTEN it was the anniversary date. What joy! And what heartbreak! Standing in front of a group of hurting and exhausted pastors, I had to refrain from jumping up and down and shouting 'alleluia' from the top of my lungs. It only took 5 years, but for the first time I realized I would be able to live my life and NOT have the Kirkwood shooting be ever present in my psyche. I recognized in that moment that my life had continued to grow and change and good things where springing up all around. The recognition of resurrection and springtime awakening in my soul occurred at the outset of a Newtown clergy retreat held the day before a blizzard in New England. When I brought this recollection back to my spiritual director, she smiled simply and shook her head 'yes'. Goodness and beauty stuck their heads through the snow and grief and I was able to recognize both for what they were. The miracle of not recognizing the meaning of a text message marked for me a significant transition in my vocational resilience. And with it, I was able to be more fully present to the task at hand – creating and tending sacred space for a group of clergy traumatized by serving a community devastated by heinous gun violence. The Kirkwood shooting changed the trajectory of my ministry. I would not have been standing in Newtown if it were not for Kirkwood. And my experience of a strange text message taught me that there could be moments of grace irrupting through the ordinary slog of my life. A moment, a light bulb moment of awe and goodness and joy, which comes now because of and in spite of what happened in Kirkwood. Rather than resisting the change to the trajectory of my ministry, I have, to some point, relaxed into being embraced by it. I would not choose this course for any pastor. But to resist the mighty forces of evil and darkness may have destroyed me. Instead, I learned to befriend those forces, to be embraced by the energy, and now, I continue to learn how to be alive again (and again) and notice the small beauties all around. Learn more about personal care and developing trauma-informed ministries through our resource guides and services.
Sustain free online education with a financial contribution today. Thank you for your generosity! The Institute originally published this post on May 6, 2015, on our previous website. Here, we are honored to welcome guest blogger Rev. Dr. David Holyan, senior pastor of First Presbyterian Church of Kirkwood, St Louis, MO. As I came to realize that the foundation of my call had collapsed beneath me, I'm thankful for the grace-filled work of a wonderful spiritual director and a compassionate therapist, both of whom created space for me to wander around in my brokenness, and for a spouse who loved me in my darkest moments. While doing graduate work in theology, I stumbled upon the word bricolage. The dictionary defines it as “construction (as of a sculpture or a structure of ideas) achieved by using whatever comes to hand.” The basic idea is you create beauty or meaning out of whatever you can find lying around. As the 'sureness' of my prior convictions lay in waste within me, my spiritual director, my therapist, and the Holy Spirit provided space for me to meander around in the ruins of my soul and pick up some fragments that made sense to me. Three of those fragments continue to nurture my sense of vocational well-being: Psalm 23, serving on Presbyterian Disaster Assistance's National Response Team, and John 10:10-11. Psalm 23 I had always read and understood Psalm 23 as beginning with verse 1 – The Lord is my shepherd I shall not want – and that the stillness and restoration of the soul adequately was prepared prior to entering the valley of the shadow of death. But in the dark shadows of my soul, as I searched for some sense of vocational identity, I realized that for me, Psalm 23 had to start at verse 4, be read to the end, and then finish with verses 1-3. I realized the promise of the psalm was unfolding very slowly for me. Months in the valley unsure of any presence of the Holy and then, small glimpses of God being with me. The table of blessing was set in the midst of my enemies, doubt and fear and anger were not removed prior to experiences of blessing – they were displaced. I have come to realize, appreciate, and love how Psalm 23 needs to be read in the round, again and again, so that no matter what is happening in my life, I can step into the cycle of dark valleys, comfort, blessing in the midst of struggles, an affirmation of goodness and mercy and belonging, and, finally rest and restoration of my sense of call.* Serving on Presbyterian Disaster Assistance's National Response Team In the fall of 2009 I was invited, in the midst of my brokenness, to join with volunteers within my denomination and primarily respond to human-caused disasters. The day after the shooting in Kirkwood, two members of PDA's National Response Team were in town to help us out. Now I'm one of those getting on a plane and flying into the chaos of unexpected disasters. My first major assignment was the shooting in Tucson, AZ. Being deployed in the moments after a human-caused disaster allows me to practice the ministry of attentive presence when the pathway forward for a suffering community is not yet clear. You are never sure what you will be attending to. Will it be the shooting or some prior unresolved trauma community members are now recalling? Learning to stay open, in the midst of so much pain and energy, and discerning what to attend to and what to let go is an art. Serving in Tucson began a process of redeeming the pain I held within. While it was not easy to step from my own experience of gun violence into another community's experience, I believe I was able to provide assistance in ways that encouraged and supported others in their moments of deep need. John 10:10-11 “I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. I am the good shepherd.” These words from Jesus are etched in the dirt of my soul. One of the gifts I received in healing after the Kirkwood shooting is an appreciation for the moment and a diminished concern for tomorrow and the future. With Jesus' affirmation of 'abundant life' without guarantee for how long that life will be, the reverberations of Ps. 23, I continue to ponder: what does it mean to live abundantly and appreciate the goodness of the shepherd in a world that can end (for me) in an instant? For me the answer is to be attentive to 'the now' and thankful for all. Learn more about personal care and developing trauma-informed ministries through our resource guides and services.
Sustain free online education by making a financial contribution today. Thank you for your generosity! The Institute originally published this post on April 22, 2015, on our previous website. Here, we are honored to welcome Rev. Dr. David Holyan, senior pastor of First Presbyterian Church of Kirkwood, St Louis, MO. When I originally outlined this blog series, I thought I'd be writing about how the shooting destroyed my sense of call as a pastor to a growing church. But upon reflection I realize the shooting clarified my sense of call: pastor the church! My focus became laser-like: pastor the church–preach, attend to staff, listen to stories, share tears, as we enter into the long journey through the valley of the shadow of death. My focus became 'my congregation' and nothing else. I could not attend to the needs of the community. I could not participate in conversations about 'understanding and healing'. I could not become an engaging member of the ministerial association: I could only pastor my church. And yet, what I realize now did break was the foundation to my vocation: an abiding sense in the goodness of life and faith, the joy of being saved by grace, a belief in the goodness of others, and a sense of personal divine protection – or, in other words, I believe so God will watch over me and everything will work out. All these things where 'shot to hell' on February 7, 2008, and while I continued carrying-on my pastoral duties with a clear-minded determination, I did so with a broken heart. The scars of which are still with me to this day. an abiding sense in the goodness of life and faith At the core of my vocational identity as a reformed Christian pastor was 'the good news of Jesus Christ'. I have committed my life to the goodness of what God has done and is doing through Jesus Christ. On February 7, 2008, 'goodness' was attacked and, for me, destroyed. A trust in God's goodness did not answer the questions and it did not stop the hurt, the disbelief, or the bewilderment. God was no longer 'good'. the joy of being saved by grace I had always experienced my salvation through grace and my being called as a pastor joy-full-y. My call was clear and profound, life changing in remarkably good ways, and provided a foundation of joy for much of my ministry. And now there was only heartbreak and lament, quiet hugs with lots of tears, and hours upon hours of lonely, private crying and wondering and questioning and asking questions into the wind without one, single answer. The animating energy of my call shifted from a tempered joyfulness to something much darker and colder. a belief in the goodness of others Until the shooting, I always trusted in the innate goodness of others: all people are good and willing to help. This was the basis for my sense of the church — good people coming together to share their gifts in order to further the ministry and mission of Jesus Christ. After the shooting, people can be good or a threat. It is weird to sit in the front of a sanctuary, leading worship, watch a stranger walk in late, and think to myself: is he going to shoot me, or, how quickly can I get to the door? a sense of divine protection I trust in God; God will take care of me. I have faith in Jesus Christ; Jesus Christ will protect me. I know this sounds naïve but it is what undergirded my sense of vocational stability: those who give their lives to Jesus will be looked after. But I learned faith cannot stop a bullet and God does not protect those who believe from evil. While the public demands for clergy are often clarified by a traumatic event, the foundations of one's vocation are often destroyed by that same event. I suffered alone, in the quiet of the morning, with a cup of coffee, prayers, tears, and a broken heart. I think I did okay as a pastor in the months and years following the shooting, but for a long time I was faking it – too crushed on the inside to let anyone know the foundation was destroyed and the house was in danger of collapse. You can learn more about personal care and developing trauma-informed ministries through our resource guides and services.
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