Getting Burned Without Being Burned

I told her she didn’t have to pray or read her Bible. That she could attend church and not listen to the pastor or sing any songs. That she could wrestle with her anger and unforgiveness. But she had to come to the evening table when others were praying. She had to give space for others to attend church and read their Bibles and forgive. Non-participation, at least with the physical body, is not an option because she is a member of this home and her presence matters.           

She told me she has no interest in God.

With this resident, I don’t know where the breaking line is. The line is blurred so much it’s no longer a line. The static electricity inside her body fights to find balance and finds peace still a long way off. I told her it’s okay to not believe in God.  I told her that what happened to her was not her fault and that the people who did it are bad people.

BAD.  REALLY BAD.

That doesn’t mean God doesn’t love them, but there’s no justifying their horrific acts. I didn’t try to explain God’s love to her.

Yeah, I’m not exactly a great example of what it means to “win” others for Christ. In fact, I wouldn’t even know how to best tell someone to do this. I don’t know of any formulas because my lines are blurred, too.

The line about when to push and when to hold back. When to speak and when to stay silent. Just listening. Just being present because she really wants to talk about the shock waves charging her body but doesn’t quite know how.  Release is slow, unsteady, and all kinds of emotional soup.

Even though I’ve never known trauma like hers, I feel like we are in this together.  I like being in this place with her where uncertainty is the only sure thing.  This place where she’s still figuring out how to let go of so much anger.

She can’t fight on her own. Not yet.  She needs us to bid for her and to rage against the memories that paralyze her and the faces that cause panic. 

Fast forward three days.

We have our combined praise and worship gathering for both homes and share a meal together. Dave has been taking the residents through a series on healthy relationships and we start session one of family relationships. I know ahead of time that this will bring pain to the surface, but we have no intention of ignoring the hard.

He speaks and prays and some cry but she cries longer and needs constant consolation because her breaths are stifled and she can’t stop. I sit beside her and she grabs onto me and my heart becomes gelatinous goo. So wishing I could wave a wand and make her feelings of helplessness and fear vanish. 

She breaks again and again.  For every step forward, she goes back three.

The next morning she asks for prayer.  I should have been shocked due to her anti-God stance the week before.  But I wasn’t. Choosing the spiritual makes sense because she’s running out of options.  She needs the supernatural.

One of our volunteers has her read Daniel 3:19-25 because it’s the passage God impressed on her to share.  It’s not exactly a “go to” Bible passage when walking someone through the pain and despair of incomprehensible trauma. After the prayer session, I ask what she understood about the passage. She says, “They got burned but they didn’t get burned.”

Now I understand why these verses.

In the midst of fire heated seven times more than usual, three servants of the Most High God walked out untouched by the fire that should have devoured their flesh.  They were living examples of God’s deliverance and saving power because they put their uncompromising trust in Him.

I ask how she feels after praying. She says “lighter.” The pushing line remains blurred indefinitely, but she has allowed light to penetrate some of her fear.  It’s going to take more time for this ongoing rescue. If she needs support from mental health professionals, we’ll offer her that. For now, she just needs to know we are present and that we’re not going to abandon her.