Trauma Influences Our Worldview

Amy’s world changed after years of listening to children’s stories of violation. She no longer had the carefree personality she had growing up. Now, the world was dangerous, and living took a lot more effort. From your own experience, you might think the family is a wonderful context for faith formation and nurture, that is until the disciple you spend time with recounts a story of personal violation from Christian parents. Traumatic experiences tend to alter our worldview. Amy recalls a time when she was waiting for a bus. In broad daylight, five men walked by her and suddenly she felt sick to her stomach. Her hands were sweating, she began to shake, fear immobilized her – she thought she was going crazy. Amy never had been violated in any way by a man, but so many of the children she worked with had. It seems an obvious connection in retrospect; but not until we chatted about it was she able to see a connection between her new worldview and her consistent role as a witness to trauma. 

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Making sense of her reactions helped Amy feel stabilized and grounded, like she might not be crazy after all. After years of witnessing trauma, Amy had begun to isolate herself, but others in her situation have responded in other ways. After hearing stories of violation, some might enroll in a self-defense class, install an expensive security system, or exercise tighter constraints on their own children. Traumatic stress, even when secondary, has the power to shape our choices and worldview.  

Trauma Changes Our Perception of God

When I spoke with Carrie and Amy, they were in crisis.  Carrie thought she knew God, but having heard this traumatic story, she wasn’t so sure. One conversation with a 14-year-old girl and Carrie faced a crisis of faith. Amy loved the kids she worked with, even referring to them as “my kids.”  She took them shopping, taught them how to pray, and gave them hope that God would be present. But these precious disciples wanted to know why God continued to let them suffer.

Both of these young women discovered vicarious trauma results in an unrelenting assault on our understanding of the character of God. We might wonder why we don’t pray like we used to, why the Bible seems dry and uninviting, why we prefer not to get involved in discipleship anymore. Of course there may be a variety of reasons for these things, but we would be wise not to dismiss the influence of traumatic stress. Counselors have said, “Ninety percent of healing is awareness.”  Neither Carrie nor Amy saw a connection between their feelings and the trauma stories they had heard until they began to think through their respective situations. Others may have made the connection for themselves, but it’s always wise to give trauma prayerful consideration. When God seems distant and we can’t find our way back to the intimacy we once knew, recognizing the influence of vicarious trauma may provide the clarity we need to regain our spiritual zeal and get back into the discipling relationships that have always brought us a sense of accomplishment and joy.

Vicarious trauma does not get the final word, unless we allow it. Our own woundedness can become the very thing God uses to draw us to him and increase our spiritual authority and ministry effectiveness.  It’s no fun being wounded, yet there is something holy and powerful about a discipling relationship with someone who truly understands loss and traumatic pain.  Understanding the impact of vicarious trauma is not our excuse to leave discipleship. Rather it helps make sense of our feelings and behaviors so we might fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who, for the joy set before him, endured the cross, scoring its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God (Heb. 12:2).      

For more information on secondary traumatic stress, or to book a workshop, please contact:

Dr. Christopher Marchand, D. Min.

Associate Professor of Youth Leadership

Providence College and Seminary (www.prov.ca)

chris.marchand@prov.ca