Swallowing Hurt
A note to my readers: This particular post was challenging for me because I know that my perspective, while not unique, doesn’t apply to the mass audience. But, I cannot separate the fact that I am a pastor and in church leadership. So, as you read this, know that my perspective comes from that place. Also know that my vulnerability here is not intended to strike pity; rather, it is to bring to light the fact that pain always impacts “both sides.” Keep reading to find nuggets of truth that will encourage you to handle your pain in a healthy and godly manner. —Carissa
On the shallow shoreline, a discolored seagull had come across a treasure. There, riding the sway of the lapping water, was a live crab caught in what appeared to be fishing line. The poor plight of the crab became the bountiful feast of the seagull. With poignant caution, the bird nipped at the live crab. It was careful to not let its lunch turn on him. The bird dodged the desperate claws and used its beak as a weapon, whacking the caught creature into submission. It didn’t take long for the battered crustacean to relent. It has been through a lot in the last thirty seconds. When the gull deemed it safe, it plucked one last time, and with matrix-style flair, tossed the wounded crab into its mouth. There were a few revolting coughs and neck spasms that followed, but the lunch had made its way down and the gull took off, digesting in the sky.
On that shallow shoreline, I witnessed the wildness of the food chain. I realize that it’s nature and that a seagull has got to eat...but as I watched that crab be tossed into the abyss of the bird’s digestive system, I couldn’t help but be revolted. My imagination began to play out the process of the crab fighting back, hanging from the gullet, pinching the esophagus, and wreaking havoc from the inside. (Yes, I have maybe watched too many animated kid’s movies.) What if, in the sky above, a seagull suddenly felt violence on the inside, a ravaging pain? What if that swallow had deep ramifications?
I recalled this incident, a few weeks later, when I sat across a table and stared into eyes full of ache. Together, we both took in the same hard breath. Unintentionally, at the same time, we exhaled the exhaustive truth that we faced. We were swallowing hurt.
There we sat, knowing each other, feeling each other, sympathetic to each other’s wounds.
“I am sorry,” I said.
“It is no big deal” was the rehearsed response.
“But it is. It shouldn’t have unfolded in this way. This isn’t what you should be feeling.”
We both know this; after all, we have been doing ministry long enough to know that pain is part of the process. We have been here before, understanding each other because we have walked similar shorelines before. We have seen people caught in the metaphorical fishing line many times. Struggling against the nets, struggling to make sense of their plight. We have spent time sitting down on that shoreline and sharing in the pain. We have helped to unravel the lines from the claws, we have spent time praying and encouraging, we have resourced and revered, and we have been present in the discouragement and complaint. We have celebrated the small miracles of health and restoration, and as each raveled line was released, we rejoiced!
This is ministry. To sit, to share, to listen, to hold, to hope. And what a joy to be in the trenches with the people you have been asked to love! To be witness to new life, to see families restored, to watch burdensome addictions break, and to celebrate calloused hearts set free.
But ministry can be painful, too. It is difficult to hope and then lose. It is hard to befriend to be left in the end. It is challenging to be raw because, too often, people aren’t interested in your pain.
If you stop to consider, in your own place of ministry (be it your home, your workplace, your church), have you not felt the sting of brokenness or exhaustion? Ministry, whether vocational or not, has its adverse moments of intense loneliness, rejection, and sorrow.
Too often, we find ourselves swallowing that hurt.
And it feels like a crab stuck in the throat. Painful to be in the place where we are brokenhearted on behalf of someone else, but that someone else feels offended. That someone else is unable, in their current state, to see that their plight could be temporary. The seagull doesn’t have to have the last say. There is the option of doing the hard work on the shoreline. Together, because of the grace of God, we could unravel the line and find healing and hope again.
In ministry, we sometimes feel like we lost. We let someone through our grasp. Someone else left, walked, refused, revolted and we can sit on the shoreline feeling defeated and quickly caught up in the same restrictive fishing line. Wallowing in the hard swallow, knowing that someone else will proclaim that they were hurt, rejected, or refused by the church. While, as ministers, we swallow and walk the hard line of proclaiming nothing, embarrassing no one, and carrying on despite our own pain.
Does the church sometimes mess up? Absolutely. 100% yes. After all, since the birth of the church in Acts, the church has been a collection of sinful people. Most of the letters in the New Testament were written directly to churches and the purpose was to correct, clarify, and confirm. Since our startup, the church has always needed more of the inspiration and direction of the Holy Spirit and less of its own imitation. Anyone who argues the perfection of the church has missed the message of redemption and grace through the Perfect One, Christ our Savior.
So, yes, church hurt happens. Routinely and often. Some of it may be vindictive and intentional. The majority of it is accidental, due to miscommunication, a complete lack of communication, or overwhelmed leadership. Sometimes people are hurt and never even let church leaders know. Too often, the church leaders themselves are hurt and they are leading out of their own insecurities and pain. Let’s be honest - pain is a similar human experience, whether you are a church attendee or a church leader.
As I sit across this digital tablespace from you, my friend, allow me to be the one who apologizes on behalf of those who should have. Let me be the one to say that I understand what it is to carry the burden of church hurt. It is a sour story that too often becomes rancid because we permit it to fester. Too many conceal the wound by leaving the ministry, by moving to a new church, by ignoring the pull to bring it out to the open, and by denying the truth of what happened and what didn’t happen. A cover-up is never suitable; it always buckles. When it crumbles, we find ourselves sitting on a shoreline, tied up in fishing line, and unaware of how the inner violent struggle has rendered us hopeless. Whatever the situation was or is, you need to know that healing and forgiveness are available. Maybe a relationship cannot be restored, and maybe it shouldn’t be restored, but you can choose healing instead of harboring hateful feelings. You can choose to trust a church again. You can choose to reconfirm God’s call on your life. You can choose to do the hard work of untangling the fishing line.
If more of us fought for the church and for its people instead of against it, maybe I wouldn’t have to sit across these tables so often. Tables where I stare into pained eyes. Eyes that tell stories of heartache and despair because someone in the church said something or did something. In reality, someone in the church will have a bad day and will make a poor choice. Someone in the church will presume that something wasn’t said or wasn’t done, and without the entire story, they will make misinformed decisions. Someone in the church will, without any authority, attempt to speak for the masses and, in turn, mislead and misrepresent. Someone will speak ill of women in ministry, someone will refuse to worship next to a Democrat, while another refuses to worship next to a Republican, and there will be others who are hurt by the fact that the coffee wasn’t hot, the music was too loud, and the preacher wore jeans.
There will always be an opportunity to be offended or hurt. There will also always be an opportunity to forgive and heal. And, most notably, there is always an opportunity to find solace and salvation, not in the people of the church, but in the leader of the Church, Jesus Christ.
Together, my ministry friend and I will swallow the pain, but we will also process the pain through prayer and through the Word of God. Right now, it is fresh and it feels like a crab stuck in the airways. But we will untangle the hurt, line by line, as we lean into the faithful God who invites us to lay our burdens down. We will also continue to protect and value the church. Sometimes, we are frustrated by it and broken by someone in it, but we know that God is active in the Church. The Church is still God’s plan to help bring the news of salvation to those who do not yet know (1 Corinthians 3:9). The Church is still God’s plan to help believers find comfort, community, and correction. The Church is still God’s plan to help people find their calling, use their gifts for service, and be a blessing to the local and global community (1 Corinthians 12:12). Even with its imperfections, the Church is God’s plan (Matthew 16:18).
Today, in your church pain or your questions, commit to doing three things.
(1) Seek the Father whose shoreline is comforting. His living water delivers hope and healing.
(2) Recognize that hurt always goes two ways, has two sides, and impacts more people than just yourself. In your hurt, whether you are a church leader or a church attendee, make space for a conversation to happen and utilize the underused gift of listening.
(3) Pray for your church and the leaders. Pray that the Church as a whole will be a lighthouse on that shoreline and that the light will always point to the Perfect One, Jesus Christ.
Until next time my friend.
P.S. Recently, my husband delivered a message at our church regarding Church Hurt and steps you can take in your pain. Check it out here.
