The Horrible Christians Who Used to Be My Friends
I recently read about a pastor who received an award for doing good works in his community. His efforts certainly sounded praiseworthy and the award provided the pastor an opportunity to speak about the work he was doing. What an opportunity to tell the church's story! It struck me as odd, then, when he used the first half of his speech to describe why the Christians among which he was reared were utter failures as people of faith. At the very least, it struck me as an awkward, ungracious moment. It certainly didn't contribute to whatever point he was trying to make. I think that it is also symptomatic of a kind of sickness - or emotional bondage - that infects the household of God.
It is common to read essays by Christians who frame their arguments like this: “I grew up in a denomination that …” or “I was raised among Christians who …” or “I used to belong to a church that …” Instead of simply stating what the authors stand for and why – or what they disagree with and why – the authors cast their arguments in reaction against the supposed tyranny of their former coreligionists.
It’s not a new insight that churches and families can be emotionally similar environments. Edwin Friedman's Generation to Generation: Family Process in Church and Synagogue is probably the best known work in this regard.
In more than two decades of military service, I've talked with a fair number of young soldiers who are still dealing with issues created in their families of origin. Some come from truly horrible situations. Other families are less severely disabled, but obviously still troubled in one or more ways. Yet other soldiers describe family situations that don’t sound all that unusual, but the soldiers still seem powerfully driven by emotional forces connected to home.
Having put physical distance between themselves and their families by joining the Army, some mistakenly thought they were free. Instead, they were still bound by feelings of bitterness, fear, jealousy, rejection, hatred or despair. As I began to listen to their stories, I began to imagine a long elastic tether – something like a giant rubber band – that still chained them to their families of origin. The harder they pulled against it, the more they felt the family’s presence. The courses of their lives continually evolved in reaction to what happened back home. Their options appeared limited to submission or rebellion. Their families were ever-present in their imaginations. Their conversations repeatedly found their way back to family-of-origin issues.
It seems to me that some Christians have this same dysfunctional relationship with the churches to which they formerly belonged. Almost all Christians find themselves in churches that are dysfunctional in some manner, some more severely than others. Some Christians spend years in churches that are truly abusive. Moreover, everyone grows. Everyone evolves. Nobody has precisely the same religious outlook that they did when they were younger. All of these things can lead people to end one religious affiliation and adopt another. Those who change their religious identities, however, do not also have to remain bound in unhealthy emotional connections to the groups they left behind.
Whether we are talking about churches or households, it’s important to find emotional freedom in relationship to one’s family of origin. By cutting the emotional tether, you will be able to see your family as it really is, both the good and the bad. You will be able relate to the members of your (former) family in freedom and you can choose to how to love them. Your will find that the future offers you more options than you ever thought possible.
May God grant us all the grace to recognize our own forms of emotional bondage, the courage to confess our own sins, the power to forgive those who have harmed us and the healing that leads to freedom.
