Come and let me take you where I have been. For the last 50 years of my life I have met with the traumatised. They have been abused as children, raped, victims of domestic violence, trafficked, and affected by the ravages of war.
The vast majority of those precious image bearers have experienced these atrocities within the bounds of Christendom. The victims have come from churches, homes and Christian organisations. Many were abused by pastors, youth workers, teachers or family members. Many have found no refuge in the church. They understand what Jesus meant when he said that the Temple had become a safe place for those who steal and exploit the vulnerable (Matt. 21:13).
Some years ago I was in Ghana to speak on violence against women and children. While there we visited Cape Coast Castle, a large stone fort on the waterfront. Hundreds of thousands of Africans were forced through its dungeons and the door of no return onto slave ships. The prison contained dungeon chambers for 1,000 males and 500 females. Descending into the darkness to one of those dungeons felt claustrophobic. Hundreds of image bearers shackled and chained together stayed in those dungeons for about three months before being shipped across the Atlantic to serve as slaves.
We stood in one of the male dungeons listening in the darkness to the whole horrific story when our guide said this: ‘Do you know what is above this dungeon?’ We shook our heads. ‘The chapel,’ he said. Directly above 200 shackled men – some of them dead, others screaming, all of them sitting in filth – sat God-worshippers. They sang, they read the Scriptures and they prayed. The slaves could hear the service; the worshippers could sometimes hear the slaves, though soldiers were below making them behave so as not to disturb church. It took my breath away. The evil, the suffering, the humiliations, the injustices caused by those ‘worshipping’ were overwhelming. The visual parable was stunning. The people in the chapel were numb to the horrors and suffering – suffering they had created for profit. They harmed rather than cared for the least of these.
Under the form of worship in that chapel lay the darkness of slavery, oppression, and tyranny – all things that destroy humans created by God. But I believe you know Christianity does not look like being folded up with evil and worshipping on top of dungeons. Following Christ does not look like turning away from suffering or grief, or ignoring the least of these. It does not look like praying and singing, while denying the pain in others’ lives. Our guide pointed up to the church above and said: ‘Heaven above; hell below.’ But I would argue that heaven was not above, for that is not what heaven does. Heaven leaves the chapel, becomes vulnerable and goes down into the dungeon in order to bring the enslaved out into light and freedom, so that they in turn can go back and bring out more.
Our God stepped into this broken world full of suffering people inviting them to come. He called out those who exploited the vulnerable. Jesus was a safe place for the little ones, for the vulnerable and for the powerless. He is our refuge. He turned the light on religious leaders who rode on the backs of the little, the weak, the diseased and the terrified. Those who said they were God’s people ignored the suffering and the least of these in their midst. His church became a fortified place that protected the institution rather than the sheep. Is that not what do when we cover up abuse and ignore suffering?
People who suffer need care. Not just instruction, and certainly not dismissal or cover-up or condemnation. They need the Word made manifest in the flesh and bearing the fragrance of the Father. Whether people are suffering from disease, trauma, grief, or mental illness, they need us to leave the chapel and come down into their world and walk with them.
Many years ago I worked with a woman who had history of terrible abuse spanning her childhood and adult life. She was brought to me because no one knew what to do. I worked with her for a long time and learned her story. She faced a hard and frightening road to find some healing. With her permission, I had three mature women who knew and loved her meet with me to give them practical ways to care for her and walk with her. They did so faithfully for several years. Her life was transformed. So was theirs. God always works both sides. Those women learned how to be with their sister rather than simply telling her what to do or how to think and feel. They walked with her, with kindness and respect. They wept with her. They loved her well and found their own lives transformed. The Body of Christ is called to be like her Lord, our Eternal Refuge. He sat with, listened to, walked with and called things by their right name. Those who are suffering need to find the strength to speak about what they most want to forget, such as a history of abuse or current abuse. They need to find words for the suffering, the evil, the fears, and the destruction it has caused.
Many years ago I sat with a woman who survived the fall of the Twin Towers in New York City. She had watched people jumping from windows to their death. She could not stop saying ‘I saw the colour of their ties’ over and over again. Repetition is necessary, for such horrors are terrifying and we do not want them to be true. We do not want to face abuse, our own or another’s. We bestow dignity on image bearers, loved by our God, when we listen – and listen some more. We honour them. Talking is about telling the truth. It connects the sufferer to another person. It restores dignity, because their story matters. It gives them choice, because they can decide when to speak or be silent and get to choose their own words.
Suffering brings tears. Abuse, trauma and loss bring tears. Our Lord wept with others over Lazarus’ death knowing he would be alive and well shortly. How often we want to intervene with words of promise, rather than weep. And how often that quick response is because of our own discomfort in the face of suffering. The absence of sorrow and tears is not proof of faith. If it is, then our Lord’s faith was flawed. Jesus is the man of sorrows and acquainted with grief. Paul’s instruction to believers is to weep with those who weep (Rom.12:15). When we correct those who mourn, cover-up what has damaged them, or ignore the impact, we are disobedient to our Lord. The chapel is not to be above and separate from the suffering – let alone create more suffering.
Healing, if it is to happen, takes time. But time is something none of us can control. We want suffering to stop – whether it is our own or another’s. We want wounds cured. We want others to finish grieving. We want victims of abuse to ‘get over it’. In part we want this for our own comfort or so we can point to a ‘success’. We do not want to go down into the dungeon. We want the sufferers to be quiet so they do not disturb our worship. We prefer separate and above. Yet our Lord stays. He who came in the flesh walks with us as we suffer. He comforts.
In the Garden of Gethsemane Jesus asked his disciples to watch with Him. He was looking out over the tortured and darkened world He loved. He saw a deadened religious system which no longer looked like Him. What did He do? He bowed down before the God who sits on the throne forever and became the Man of Sorrows, the Sin Bearer and the Servant of all. His disciples slept. I fear we have often preferred the chapel above the dungeon. We have protected abusive and harmful leaders. We have valued fame, money, status, institution, and no disruptions. In an effort to protect such things we have ignored the screams of victims, of sufferers, and of the least of these. We send people to counsellors and psychologists for help, and we should. But in directing them to professional help, we must not stop offering the refuge of ourselves. There is a temptation to believe that we have set our suffering brother or sister on the right path and need not be present again. Traumatised people should not be dropped off at someone’s door and picked up when they are all better.
We must also remember when caring for the vulnerable that wolves still exist – in high places and in organisations we respect. Sadly we cannot assume the vulnerable are safe. We must not be like the Pharisees who neglected the sheep and protected the wolves they esteemed. If we are, then, like the Pharisees, we make our Father’s house a safe place for those who exploit (Luke 20:45-47). Jesus said: ‘You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles exert authority oppressively and their men of high positions overpower them. But it must not be like that among you. Whoever among you longs to be great must be your servant’ (Mark 10:42-44).
The question is: What does heaven do with dungeons? Heaven leaves heaven – its place of comfort, of songs, of purity, and plenty. Heaven comes down as servant to the dungeon. If the people of that chapel had truly loved God they would have been in the dungeon – in the filth and the darkness and suffering. They would have entered in so that they might be with and bring out. The church goes into the dungeon so that the dungeon becomes the church. God came down so as to lift up. God became like us so that we might become like Him. He came to this dung-filled dungeon we call earth, this death camp, and sat with us, touched us, loved us and called us to Him. He enters the dungeons of our hearts and transforms them. He did not treat us as ‘them’ – but became one of us so that we might be His. God is power becoming little; coming down to embrace what is alien. You see, there is no ‘them’ – there is only us. We were the slaves in the dungeon and He has not taken us out so that we can ignore the oppressed and the suffering and say we worship Him for not leaving us there with them. He has called us as His body to follow our head – to go back into the plague-infested dung heap so other slaves might find freedom and go back with us to find yet more.
Jesus demonstrated in the flesh the character of God; His church is to do the same. When God’s people worship over and separate, untouched by suffering, they are not worshipping the God of the Scriptures. Our Lord said: ‘Love one another, even as I have loved you’.
As followers of Christ, every time you leave your place and enter into the suffering of another human being you are living and loving as He has called us to live and love. As humans we tend to think how to avoid contagion, filth and chaos. Jesus Himself plunged into the pestilential stream; bore our filth and entered our darkness. Do you see that if this world’s inhabitants are the burden and love of the heart of our God, then when you sit with suffering souls and relieve the burdens of their hearts you are in fact not simply lifting the burden of humanity but also lifting the burden of your God? ‘A healing touch to the least’, He says, is a healing touch to the Highest. May we bow and take up our part in the yet unfinished work of the Risen Christ.
This is the second of three exclusive articles by Dr Langberg in the ongoing aftermath of recent scandals.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dr Diane Langberg is globally recognised for her 50 years of clinical work with trauma victims. She has trained caregivers on six continents in responding to trauma and to the abuse of power. Her newest book is Redeeming Power: Understanding Authority and Abuse in the Church. Dr Langberg is the recipient of the Distinguished Alumna Achievements from Taylor University, the American Association of Christian Counselor’s Caregiver Award, The Distinguished President’s Award, and the Philadelphia Council of Clergy’s Christian Service Award. Website: www.dianelangberg.com
