The silent minority?

I'm sitting alone in a room full of people. I learn something new every time I step foot in this building, but getting here is not easy. I know God wants me here, but sometimes it takes a real effort to put my shoes on and drive across town just to know that I will sit here alone again. You would think after 30 years this would get easier, but it hasn't. I wonder why? Maybe it’s not the church… maybe it’s me?

My relationship with the church… where should I begin? In the beginning, like in any relationship, I was needy and was there all the time. The church provided comfort and security, things I was desperately lacking in my life. It provided a safe haven and a place for me to learn God’s word in a way I could understand. But as the years went on and I needed more specific help with the trauma of domestic violence and sexual assault, I found myself isolated from the church. Even as I reached out to them, I found no one reaching back. I don't think it was because the church didn't want to, I think it was just a genuine lack of understanding. No one wanted to be held accountable for giving wrong information.

Now, as an advocate, I understand the importance of not wanting to give wrong information and making sure someone has quality, educated counseling, but I also understand the lack of information that is available to victims and survivors. As a church, we should want to be the first place a victim turns for help. No one should be afraid to turn to the church as a safe haven for anything. So, where have we dropped the ball?

My relationship with the church is messy and complicated. There have been times when I couldn’t wait for Sunday morning – to sing and praise, worship and hear His word. Other times, I have gone months, even years, without stepping foot inside a church – never missing it. Please don’t misunderstand. I may have walked away from the church a time or two, but I never walked away from God.

The church is full of people. People make mistakes. Some people cast judgment. People are not perfect. And guess what? I’m one of those people. Just like I was assuming someone was sitting there judging me, I was sitting there casting judgment. So, where does that put us?

That leaves us with a church full of people who think someone is judging them or doesn’t understand, or at least the possibility of that. How many other people are just like me? How many people are victims or survivors of violence, or hurting from any kind of violence and are not comfortable enough to speak up, go to their pastor, or ask for prayer? How many people are sitting there on Sunday morning ALONE in a room full of people?

I don't think most churches have a “Don’t talk about it” rule, but by not addressing any of those tough issues, like domestic and sexual violence, victims don’t know where the church stands on it. I keep thinking of those years as a new Christian, as I struggled with my past, with the violence. Had I heard someone in church say “I’ve been in your shoes. I know how you feel. I understand” maybe I would have asked for help? Maybe I wouldn’t have felt so alone? Maybe.

I applaud the churches that have addressed it and have reached out to victims. It’s not easy. And once you open that door, you have to have the courage to have it open all the time. Whether it's a list of local resources or a full fledged women's ministry, just addressing it lets victims know you care and are aware you, as an individual, exist. It's validation - validation that every victim needs.

I also know that, at some point, I have to place ALL my trust in God, not people. I walk into that building to meet Him, to worship Him. Church is just a building. My faith lies in Him and Him alone. And I will continue to look to Him – I will lift my hands and say, “Here am I, Lord. Send me.”

Psalm 62:1-2 My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from Him. He alone is my rock and my salvation; He is my fortress, I will never be shaken.