Margin for Suffering
“But what about someone who just seems stuck?”
As I train others on the topic of trauma, particularly church trauma and spiritual abuse, I am asked this question often. It comes from well meaning individuals who genuinely want to help people find healing and wholeness. Often the question is asked after I describe the process of bearing witness to the stories of suffering from others. I remind those at the training of our calling to imitate our God who continuously comes close to those in scripture who are hurting. I talk about the great importance in trauma healing of being able to name the suffering that has happened before it is healed, meaning that often the stories told are marked by a tone of mourning said through tears rather than the victorious tone and cheers that so often define the testimony services of our churches. It is usually around this time that someone will raise their hand and ask the “stuck” question. My answer to this question often explains the complex nature of trauma and the way it remains in the body and therefore often needs much time and therapy for healing. I encourage continued patience and if I’m speaking to someone who is not a therapist suggest referring to a trauma therapist. However, the repetitive nature of this question has struck me and as I have been mulling it over, I have been struck not by the lack of trauma understanding in our churches, but rather the way our churches have little to no margin for suffering.
Occasionally when someone asks me this “stuck” question it is connected to some variation of Psalm 30:5 which reads, “Weeping may last for the night but joy comes in the morning.” This seems to be the main verse used within the church to discuss suffering. For some it may serve as a source of comfort, but far too often it is used to put a timeline on the pain of another. The isolation of this one Psalm as the key suffering text seems strange from an exegetical perspective. Especially when one considers that both Job and Lamentations are entire books of the Bible dedicated to the theme of suffering, and both seem to serve as reminders that often weeping lasts much longer than one literal night.
In the book of Job, it is Job who serves as the example to follow. He is the one who enters into dialogue with God, the one who is remembered for his righteousness. He is also the character in the story who seems willing to sit in his suffering the longest. In contrast, his friends are falling into the Psalm 30:5 trap, insisting he repent from whatever he did to cause the suffering and move on. They have no margin for his pain. They are unable to sit with the ambiguity of why such bad things are happening to a righteous person. They are too busy trying to explain the suffering away to truly bear witness to the grief Job is expressing. There is no healing balm found in their words, no restoration offered.
Unfortunately, in many ways our churches operate like Job’s friends. Suffering makes us uncomfortable. We do not know how to sit with someone in their pain. The cost of sitting and listening to stories of trauma feels too great, so we listen with one ear while our brains seek right answers and proper biblical explanations. We plaster bible verses on trauma survivors like bandaids on gushing wounds forgetting that the actual biblical healing remedy to suffering is the compassionate presence of Jesus which needs no words. We cling to Psalm 30:5 insisting that there must be a timeline to our grief, forgetting the pages of Job and Lamentations which beg instead for our companionship as they declare, “Is it nothing to all you who pass by?” (Lamentations 1:12).
We plaster bible verses on trauma survivors like bandaids on gushing wounds forgetting that the actual biblical healing remedy to suffering is the compassionate presence of Jesus which needs no words.
We need greater margin for suffering in our churches. We need to learn from our good and gracious Father who is always drawing near to the suffering, who is always near to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18). Do we know how to be near to the brokenhearted? Or is it more comfortable for us to call them stuck? I invite you today to engage in one of the following practices to increase your own margin for suffering:
Sit with another who is in the midst of pain and simply listen. Refrain from offering advice, wisdom, or even phrases of comfort. If you must speak, simply offer an “I’m so sorry, that sounds so hard.” Weep with them, demonstrate support through body language, but do not feel the need to fill the space with words.
Pray through the book of Lamentations. Notice what happens in your body as you allow yourself to give voice to pain as you join your words to the prophet’s.
Read Luke 8:40-56, notice Jesus’ willingness to pause what he is doing to enter into the suffering of someone else. Where do you need Jesus to slow you down so you can be more present to the pain of others?
Consider how you might incorporate times of lament in your worship services. Can you use a psalm of lament as your call to worship? Can you sing a song of lament during musical worship? Can you preach on the stories of pain and suffering throughout the Bible and focus on the presence of God rather than a quick solution or bandaid fix?
