These days it can feel as though there are few places to turn where you do not encounter the impacts of trauma in some form. Whether you are marking the 17th anniversary of 9/11 today or the one-year anniversaries of hurricanes Irma, Harvey, and Maria, or you are preparing for the incoming storms of Florence or Olivia, you are in the thick of your own crises related to flooding, violence, fire, substance abuse, depression, anxiety, death, or terminal illness – it can be hard not to feel overwhelmed and even hopeless amid the chaos of heartache. 

Trauma, of course, is not new. Though it may be decades or even centuries since events like the ones we face today have occurred, the sustainable practices of resiliency remain the same across time and demographics. Here are some of the ways leading field experts, journalists, and scholars are naming them today: 

Pediatrician and leading Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs) scholar, Dr. Nadine Burke-Harris on the prescription plan for countering adversity: 

• Consistent sleep
• Regular exercise
• Good nutrition
• Practicing mindfulness
• Maintaining mental health
• Fostering caring relationships

Collective traumatologist, Dr. Jack Saul, on the four themes most typical of a functional community resilience and recovery approach: 

• Focus on building community and enhancing social connectedness among the concentric circles of impacted persons
• Commitment to collectively telling the story of the community's experience and response
• Practicing re-establishing the rhythms and routines of life and engaging in collective healing rituals
• Arriving together at a positive vision of the future with a renewed sense of hope

Pastoral theologian, Dr. John Swinton, on the relational and spiritual practices for formation through and beyond loss: 

• Listening to Silence
• Lament
• Forgiveness
• Thoughtfulness
• Hospitality

These practices are not merely about being "good" or "healthy." They are proven to be the skills and practices that sustain individuals, families, and groups through widely ranging forms of loss. To learn more about how you or your organization can practice skills for resiliency, browse ICTG's downloadable guides, training materials, or contact us to learn more. 

Serene Jones, author of Trauma and Grace: Theology in a Ruptured World begins her story on a normal Sunday morning, sitting in the back row with her friend Leah, a relatively new attendee to church. When the service approaches time of communion, the pastor begins explaining the Biblical significance of the bread and wine Jesus shared with his disciples the night before his crucifixion. The pastor explains how the broken bread symbolizes Christ’s body and the wine symbolizes Christ’s blood, both of which He gave for us. At this point, Leah abruptly gets up and rushes to the nearest exit. Curious about her friend’s sudden departure, Jones follows to find Leah in a panic elicited by the pastor’s words.

Scripture can be interpreted differently depending on one’s lens. Trauma is one such lens that powerfully dominates the interpretation and understanding of God’s character and the implications of scripture. Jones quickly realizes that what is a typical church tradition in her congregation, hearing the story of Jesus’ crucifixion, elicited fears so daunting and traumatizing to her friend that she had to leave. This powerful story reminds us that part of the role of church leaders, pastors, and ministers is caring for congregants struggling with trauma and/or mental illness. Caring for this population of congregants should include ministering to them in a way so they too can experience God’s love and redemption. Congregations have a wide variety of resources to draw upon, including scripture, to foster care for depressed and traumatized individuals.

Churches strive to be safe places for individuals and families struggling with loss, grief, trauma, or mental illness. However, they do not always take the appropriate measures to demonstrate they care. People struggling with mental illness or trauma may have trouble receiving messages of God’s love and grace, or messages about the significance of hope and redemption. Instead, they may feel as if God is mad at them and they may feel guilty or isolated as a result of these feelings. Congregations can respond by helping survivors of trauma and mental illness embrace new imaginations using the psalms. Serene Jones demonstrates how the psalms bring “to light sorrows and fears hidden away in ‘lurking places.’ Speaking the unspeakable. Giving language to a heart whose pain has made it speechless.” (51)

The psalms of lament are particularly powerful for individuals struggling with trauma and/or mental health. Psalms of lament do not guarantee everything will be fine or convey a better plan from God; rather, they capture the raw emotion behind trauma and use the language of the traumatized. The psalms of lament give trauma survivors and the mentally ill the opportunity to embrace the healing power of grace by “accepting the promise that God has made to be ever present to them in their suffering and, in being present, to redeem and transform their plight as they stand ‘groaning’ before the Divine” (52). God acts as the witness to their pain and embraces their brokenness. Imagery depicting God’s open arms and receptive ears penetrates the hearts of traumatized survivors and instills a sense of peace that imagines a God who is safe and a God who knows and holds the pain of their trauma. Psalmists articulate God’s promises for individual deliverance and embrace prayer as the mode in which God acknowledges pain worthy of being lamented and mourned.

Congregations can also care for survivors of trauma and mental illness by highlighting Biblical narratives of hope through sermons. In Mark, there is an encounter between Jesus and a man with an “unclean spirit”. The story begins in Mark 1:21, where Jesus is in Capernaum and begins teaching in the synagogue. He sees a man in the crowd who has an “unclean spirit” and immediately orders the spirit to depart from the man’s body. The interaction portrays Jesus as a compassionate teacher who pursues people who are struggling. Jesus reaches out, listens, and shows compassion to individuals struggling with mental illness. He prioritizes this man’s needs in the church that Sabbath morning over anyone else’s. Mark’s narrative of Jesus casting out the unclean spirit reassures trauma survivors that they are not forgotten nor alone in their suffering, but are heard by God who deeply cares for them and loves them.

Emotionally and spiritually healthy congregations seek to care for groups who are hurting because of trauma and/or mental illness. Churches have the unique opportunity to care for children and adults who have encountered trauma and/or mental illness. They are specially equipped with Bible passages to surround the traumatized with support. Psalms of lament or Biblical narratives of hope are ways for church leaders to enter into the dark places where survivors of trauma and mental illness stand and offer words of hope and healing to their circumstances.

Source:
Jones, Serene. Trauma and Grace: Theology in a Ruptured World. Louisville:
    Westminster John Knox Press, 2009. Print.


* Interested in learning more trauma-informed best practices? Visit the ICTG training menu to purchase ICTG’s most popular resource guides, assessments, modules, seminars, and more.

So much violence has happened over this past month, with the attacks in Nice, Paris, Ft. Myers, Orlando, Dallas, Baton Rouge, Baghdad, Titusville, and so many other places. We don’t have to have been close to these incidents to feel their impact on our lives.  When we experience such shocking news, we naturally go into protection mode. Our brains and bodies amp up to protect us as we experience heightened awareness to potential threats in our environments.  We feel our safety is threatened. It becomes difficult to distinguish between real danger and a general sense of fear.

This stress response is not only limited to times of violence. Major life changes can trigger similar stress reactions in people. This month, for example, I have taken a new job as a president of a high school.  I moved to a new city, started new work, and am getting to know an entirely new community. It is an exciting change for me.  It is also one that has required me to refocus on self-care.  Throughout the years, I have developed the image of self-care as a bike tire.  Getting from point A to point B on a bike is easy when the tires are properly inflated.  However, if you have low tire pressure, then that same journey from point A to point B can be laborious!  You will use a lot of energy and arrive at your destination exhausted.  

Self-care is much the same.  I have learned that I need to keep my tire “properly inflated” in order to go about my day.  Working a new job with new people and situations requires me to be at the top of my game.  Given the impact of toxic stress and how easy it is for individuals and organizations to reenact the “there and then” in the “here and now”, I, as a leader, need my tire to be well inflated.  With an inflated tire, I am at my best. I am ready to learn, engage, listen, and bring all of my creativity to what is before me.  

My ideas about self-care have changed over time.  It used to be that self-care was quite episodic in my life.  “I need a vacation!” was what I often called self-care.  The problem for me was that when I came back from vacation I often needed another vacation two weeks later!  What I had been calling “self-care” was in reality shutting down. I was exhausted from going so long with low air pressure in my tires. What I really needed to do, instead of shutting down at those times, was to check in with my brain and recognize how the patterns of stress throughout my life had taught me how to survive but not how to thrive.

Our brains are meant to help us deal with momentary episodes of stress. The brain does a great job of this.  However, in the context of ongoing stress and fear this same brain response can be toxic.  In the context of ongoing stress, the brain stays on overload, developing deep neural pathways that stay with us for life.  These pathways, often characterized as fight, flight, and freeze, are exhausting to live with day to day.  Our bodies are not built to be constantly tense, amped up and ready for the next attack.  It takes a lot of energy to remain alert.  The irony is that the neural pathways we create during ongoing stress are eventually unable to distinguish a stressful context from non-stressful one.  In essence, even when threat and adversity have passed, we continue to live as if it hasn’t and we remain on edge. This is our emotional brain on autopilot.  There is not much we can do when we are experiencing life from this unregulated perspective.  

Developing a self-care plan that actually allows us to be in our rational brain is key to regaining our sense of well-being.  We can keep our tire inflated with a self-care plan that is specific, daily, and manageable.  For me, this means T.I.P.S.E.  It is the name of my self-care plan.  It stands for Time, Intrigue, Prayer, Sleep and Exercise.  Under each of these categories, I have developed four or five small things I can do on a regular basis.  I pick and choose a couple of them to during the day.  For instance, under sleep, I have developed the habit of not jumping out of bed immediately in the morning, but rather spending five minutes waking up and breathing.  I also make time during the week to intentionally connect with a good friend. This is important, as it is intentional.  I have found that life can get so busy that my attention to friendships can become almost accidental.

In addition to my T.I.P.S.E. method, I have developed the habit of deep breathing throughout the day for three minutes.  I love this.  Recently, I came across alternate nasal breathing, which is another great breathing exercise. This has been wonderful, as I can do this at anytime during the day--and even sometimes unobtrusively in meetings where I find I need to add a little air to my tire!  

Overall, I have found T.I.P.S.E. and breathing exercises to be great forms of self-care for helping me keep my tire inflated.  In brain speak, what I am really doing is “firing and wiring” new neural pathways that move me towards regulation and away from reenactment (the importing of the “there and then” into the “here and now” of the moment). My self-care practices set me up for less stress through the day, giving me greater access to my creative energy.  I am a better colleague to others now, as I am more available to be supportive to myself and those around me. For me, self-care has given me an experience of fullness and a more authentic sense of self. This is an experience of connection with God for me.  

As I take up my new job, I have found that each day has brought different challenges.  The road has already been varied, from hilly, to rocky, to straightaways, and wonderful scenic routes.  I am finding that I don’t choose my roads but I do choose how I show up on them. I am learning that having an inflated tire sure helps me get from point A to point B!


* Learn more about self-care and congregational care practices on the ICTG Training Page. Here, you will find dozens of resources, including the ICTG Congregational Assessment Guide, seminars on becoming trauma-informed, modules, forums, and more!

Father Jeff Putthoff, SJ is a Jesuit priest.  Having spent the last 19 years in Camden, NJ where he founded the nonprofit Hopeworks, working with youth 14-23 who were not in school, he has recently become the President of St. John’s Jesuit High School and Academy in Toledo, OH.  He is deeply interested in brain health, creating communities of healing, and finding God in all things.  He is an accomplished retreat director—both preaching retreats to large groups as well as directing individuals in the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola.  He enjoys speaking nationally on trauma informed care and organizational life.

What are we to do when the spiritual leaders we expect to give us life take their own? 

I have been pondering this question, among many others, in the wake of national media reports about the suicide of 42-year-old Teddy Parker, Jr., pastor of Bibb Mount Zion Baptist Church, in Macon, Georgia.  

According to reports, Rev. Parker sent his wife and children to their church ahead of him on Sunday, November 10th.  After Parker failed to appear at the church where he was expected to deliver the sermon, his wife, Larrinecia Parker, returned home and found him in his car, still parked in the driveway, dead of a self-inflicted gun wound.  

Parker's loved ones are shocked and confused that he committed suicide.  Indeed, one media outlet reported a congregant mentioning that Parker preached against suicide, but Dr. E. Dewey Smith, Jr., a friend of Parker and pastor of a church in Atlanta, admitted that he was aware that his friend was suffering from manic depression and had been dealing with emotional issues.  Smith went on to note that he knew Parker was in treatment but "couldn't back away from ministry."

Parker's tragic death offers an unfortunate opportunity to critically assess the types of theological ideas propagated within some churches that might harm those who live with mental illnesses.  It also provides a chance to name the violence of silence that often shrouds talk of mental illness within some Christian worshipping spaces . . . 

Unfortunately, many churchgoers with a mental health history tend to endure their struggles alone.  In Parker's case, his friend Rev. Smith asked, 

"How do you tell your church that you have mental and emotional disorders and they trust your leadership? It's almost like a death sentence to share that.  How are they going to perceive you afterwards? You have visions, will they trust you? Will they believe it's the spirit that's leading you?"

The real critique hidden in Rev. Smith's interrogation, one which places an undue burden on the sufferer to hold onto the secret of his/her mental health issue because of outsiders' perceptions or seek out help as if they can, has to do with the power of the collective (the congregation) to shape how an individual with a mental illness engages, or does not engage, care. Indeed, the real critique is directed at the collective "we" who watch, police, engage, or assail people every day without creating safe spaces for those in need of intervention to receive it.  We are all complicit.  

And there is something to be said about the willful omissions that we sanction regarding the ways we talk about, or not, mental health concerns . . . there is a type of violence that is enacted when the truth of one's mental health history is invisibilized.  

There is a type of violence that occurs when the noise of another's pleas for help, regardless of the ways such pleas might manifest, are silenced . . . a type of ecological depravity at work when we are willfully silent about the mental health histories of sisters and brothers in our communal worshipping spaces . . .