Consequences of Church Trauma: Disconnection with Self
Controlling religion taught me to distrust myself: my instincts, my gut feelings, and my desires.
Growing up in more traditional and evangelical churches, there was a lot of talk about sin, the sinful nature, and the dangers of the “flesh.” Every week, there would be a moment of silence during the Sunday service where we were supposed to confess our sins to God. What if I didn’t do anything wrong that week? I wondered. Well, I must have done something wrong.
I used those moments of silence to ask God to convict me of my wrongdoing and impure motives, to think up things I could have done but hadn’t. It was a rather discouraging use of time, especially for a perfectionist like me, to focus on all the things I hadn’t done well, all the ways I had “missed the mark” as many preachers liked to say. It took many years for me to decide that I didn’t have to always grieve my sin in those moments, but could simply be with God and trust that if God wasn’t confronting me with anything I needed to repent of, then I didn’t need to repent.
At my charismatic church, we never set aside time for confession during church. The rhetoric was centered around empowerment. We could literally do all things through Christ, more specifically through the Holy Spirit. Heal physical ailments. Get prophetic words about the future. Pray in spiritual languages. Achieve our wildest dreams. Yet despite this emphasis on empowerment, I was still taught to distrust myself.
I needed to hear a word from God in order to make any kind of big decision. I needed to question my motives, my heart, and my level of faith if any prayers I prayed didn’t come true. I was pressured to obey my spiritual leaders without question because they were “anointed by God,” which meant I had to shut down any part of me that felt uncomfortable or disagreed with anything a church leader said (much less prophetically declared).
In church, I learned to distrust myself, so a key part of healing from my church trauma has been reconnecting with myself: my intellect, my intuition, and especially my body.
The Soul vs. The Body
When I look at the Bible, it’s hard for me to find passages that talk about our bodies in a positive way, especially in the New Testament. At least the Old Testament has Song of Songs, which has passages delighting in the wonders of the body, and also the story of creation, which involves humans being created––in fleshly form––in the image of God. In the New Testament, however, Paul constantly talks about the dangers of the flesh in his letters, and that’s about it. Most of the NT writers seem more focused on ethereal things like the next life and the return of Jesus. The most body-positive passage I can come up with is the physical resurrection of Jesus itself. The fact that he shows up in his human body, not as an ethereal spirit, is quite significant, in my opinion. (If you can think of more body-positive passages, please share them!)
The Ancient Greek philosophers certainly saw the body as evil, as the enemy of the soul. Carnal desires were seen as base, as something that kept humans from higher living. When I learned in seminary about the profound effect Greek philosophy had on Christianity, it made so much sense. No wonder we were told that to be a disembodied soul was the goal.
I grew up valuing my intellect and my heart, but always wary of my body. I questioned its size and shape. I did my best to shut down its desires and cravings. My body was often a liability, a hindrance, an inconvenience.
Yet trauma studies in recent decades tell a very different story. Our bodies are just as affected by trauma as our minds and hearts. And, our bodies are just as powerful conduits of healing as our minds and hearts. All of us is connected: The emotions we suppress eventually show up in physical symptoms in our bodies. Thoughts we have––whether positive or negative––can have direct impact on our physical well-being. And the opposite is true, too. What we do with our bodies––how we move them, how we are aware of them, what activities we engage in––impact our minds and hearts.
What if our bodies aren’t enemies of our souls? What if we are one inextricable whole, and the whole of us matters?
Listening to Our Desires
At church, we are usually taught to question our desires, perhaps to suppress certain ones completely. And yes, not all desires are good, and not all impulses should be followed, but all desires and impulses are significant. Some are connected to the past, remnants of survival instincts from past trauma, even trauma suffered by ancestors. Some point to gaps in the present, important needs or wants that are unfulfilled. Some point to the influence of people or culture around us. And some are connected to our inner CORE, parts of us that should never be compromised or sacrificed.
Shutting down or suppressing desires is rarely, if ever, helpful.
For some reason, even for those of us who didn’t grow up in the church, most of us have a tendency to judge ourselves and be harsh toward ourselves when we perceive our desires or actions to be inappropriate. We try to berate ourselves into being better. But this is rarely effective. One thing I deeply appreciated about my coaching training was its emphasis on curiosity as the way forward.
Curiosity is far more effective at bringing change and healing than judgment.
Curiosity opens up space for exploration, for honesty, for uncovering helpful information. Curiosity makes us feel seen, validated, and known, even if we’re simply being curious towards ourselves. Curiosity makes space for nuance, for new questions, for new pathways to new goals. Curiosity is often a straight-shot to healing.
Choosing Curiosity
What impulses or desires have you learned to shut down that are worth exploring?
Perhaps a desire to be goofy or childlike, or an impulse to be creative. Perhaps a desire for deeper relationships, or an impulse to explore new places. Perhaps an impulse to speak your mind, or a desire for more peace.
Rather than shutting down your desires, what might happen if you listen to them?
More and more, I have learned to check in with my body as a regular practice toward healing and wholeness. I have learned to listen to the aches, urges, tensions, cravings, and other various signals my body is constantly sending me. My body so often points me to the parts of me that need healing, to the specific things I need, such as rest, validation, agency, connection, strength, reassurance, etc.
What impulses do you need to listen more closely to? What is your body trying to say?
Self-Connection Exercise
Here is an exercise you can try. And if you do, I’d love to hear from you about how it goes.
Sit down somewhere comfortable, somewhere where you can feel the ground or the floor beneath your body or beneath your feet. Close your eyes or gaze softly into the distance. And then begin to breathe deeply. 4 counts in. Hold for 2 counts. 4 counts out.
Feel each breath as it enters your nose or mouth, as it fills your lungs, as it expands your body. Feel each breath as it exits. Notice your body’s connection to the floor, to the ground, beneath it, to the earth.
Continuing to breathe slowly, do a body scan, starting from the top of your head, through each part of your face, down your arms, your torso, your legs, all the way to your feet and toes. Where do you feel tension? Is it a familiar tension? What is the particular sensation you feel?
If you want, you can speak directly to that part of your body or that sensation and ask what it wants to say to you. Is it tired? Stressed? Triggered? Something else? Listen for any words, emotions, memories, or intuitions that might rise to the surface. If anything comes to mind, acknowledge it. Thank your body for bringing this to your attention.
If emotions arise, let yourself feel them. If concerns or anxieties arise, validate them. If memories arise that you need to mourn, take that time to grieve them. Whether deeper things surface or not, you can invite the tension in your body to release. You don’t need to demand it to go away. You don’t need feel ashamed and ask that part of you to hide. You can simply invite it to relax. Notice what happens and approach whatever happens with curiosity.
Healing from Church Trauma Through the Body
Healing from church trauma is incredibly complex. Sifting through all the twisted theology or manipulative church language is so important but so exhausting. Meantime, what we often need most is to rebuild trust with ourselves and find calm and safety within ourselves. And this is often best done through the body rather than the mind.
It all starts with noticing. With listening to our bodies without judgment. With exploring the desires and longings we uncover. With finding ways to get what we need.
For me, after realizing I had church trauma, I felt a deep need for rest. I was exhausted. But I eventually realized I had an even deeper need to regain agency, a sense of having the ability to make choices and have power over my own self. At my controlling churches, especially at the charismatic one, which was outright spiritually abusive, I had learned to be powerless. Over time, I had felt more and more trapped, voiceless, and stuck. So moving my body was a powerful way I was able to feel my own autonomy again.
Taking walks. Singing loudly. Playing sports. Doing stretches and yoga poses. Hiking in nature. All were immensely powerful. Anything that connected an intention in my mind to a physical reality I enacted, anything that required coordination with others, anything that got me moving in a way that reminded me I could indeed move, anything that got me out connected with the other living, breathing things on this earth helped reassure me I was okay. They reminded me I was alive. They helped me rebuild trust with myself and a sense of able-ness.
Wherever you are in your journey of healing, don’t forget about your body. Its wisdom is deep, and its capacity to bring healing is immense.
Resources: Psychiatrist Bessel Van Der Kolk’s book The Body Keeps the Score is a very helpful resource about the relationship between trauma and the body and various healing modalities. For more exercises (and journal prompts) to help build self-connection, you can download a free copy of my Healing From Religious Trauma Workbook here.
Elizabeth Meeshim Hogsten is a Religious Trauma Coach who helps people move forward from church hurt. She is a spiritual abuse survivor who believes in the healing power of divine love, radical self-embrace, and persistent curiosity.
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