Jesus in the Storm: Introduction
A series about finding connection with Jesus in emotional storms caused by complex trauma, narcissistic family dynamics, scapegoating, and estrangement.
Introduction
As a complex trauma survivor who has endured narcissistic family dynamics, scapegoating, and estrangement, I am quite familiar with emotional storms. They have most often triggered whenever I am reminded of the relationships I’ve lost as a result of the trauma. Waves of shame, fear, and despair come crashing into my heart as my thoughts swirl with what I or others did to cause the disconnection between us. I can spend hours, days even, feeling lost at sea in the dark, stuck between swells of rumination about how I am going to repair the relationships. Yet, I’m never actually able to because the kind of trauma we have suffered can’t be fixed by my effort alone.
I have been given two choices in this system of relationships: say nothing more about the trauma that has been done (and continues to be done) and go along with things as they are (denial), or accept that I am the problem (scapegoating) and get out. Every counselor, pastor, priest, or spiritual director I have ever consulted has told me that to enter back into this relational system, or into relationship with any individual that is a part of the system, without mutual accountability and responsibility would cause myself, my marriage, and my ministry harm. To which, I have agreed and found to be true—the hard way. However, the effects of being disconnected (estranged) from my loved ones as a result of my decision to separate myself from this system of relationships have been so overwhelmingly painful that they too end up causing me, my marriage, and my ministry harm.
Over the years, I have attempted to mitigate the harm by trying varying degrees of contact: “in contact”, “limited contact”, and “no contact.” I have also tried to alleviate the harm with trauma therapy, 12-Step recovery for codependency, EMDR, deliverance ministry, spiritual direction, medication, exercise regimens, yoga, life coaching, certifications, master’s degrees in counseling and theology, moving to a monastery to live like a monk, spiritual formation programs, Bible studies, retreats, and pilgrimages. I have reasoned, maybe the problem, or at least part of the problem, is my responsibility, so I’ll do my part while also figuring out how to help my family, and eventually, we can move forward together.
However, I have never been able to find serenity with any degree of contact, and no amount of healing myself has ever been enough to elicit a desire in any of my family members to work on our relationship together. Every offer to go to therapy and every mention of programs for recovery have been rebuffed or ignored. Even the faintest mention of my boundaries just to maintain some semblance of contact has been refused. As holidays and major life events pass, the silence is deafening. Each birthday is another day of grieving the death of someone still alive.
Days like these are when I am most likely to end up in a storm, beaten by waves of the pain of disconnection, battered by shame whispering, “This is your fault,” and exhausted by fear, rumination, and grief. My soul has cried, “Where are you, God? Why is this happening? How do I make it stop?” After 15 years of this, with the accumulation of other recent trauma and big life transitions that I will explain more in my next post, I started to feel like I was drowning. Suddenly, my questions turned into one simple prayer—Jesus, save me.
In the following posts, I will be sharing a series of reflections on the story of Jesus walking on water in the storm. These reflections were inspired during my recent prayer retreat through the Ignatian Exercises. During my retreat, I was encouraged to be open to “Ignatian repetition”—if the Holy Spirit prompts me to return to a passage of scripture or moment in prayer or contemplation that was meaningful, emotionally charged, confusing, or resistant to glean deeper meaning or to experience further healing or transformation. Jesus walking on water in the storm was one of those passages for me.
Since my retreat, I have been drawn back to this passage morning, day, and night. I have even woken up in the middle of the night feeling as if I am in the boat with the disciples or sinking beneath the waves like Peter did. I have seen and heard Jesus respond in ways that have helped me perceive my circumstances more clearly and feel connected to God, myself, and others in the midst of the storm.
Each of the posts in the series, Encountering Jesus in the Storm, reflects on one thing the Lord revealed to me in my personal time of Ignatian contemplation. I will share an opening “Prayer for Presence”, the reading from each of the gospels, questions for contemplation for the reader, followed by my personal reflection.
These posts will endeavor to:
Illustrate how Jesus responds to these questions in the storm: “Where are you God?”, “Why is this happening?”, and “How do I make it stop”.
Reconcile thoughts of abandonment, punishment, and false responsibility in the storm with a God of unconditional love.
Arrest feelings of shame, fear, and despair and the compulsion to ruminate in the storm.
Restore a felt sense of connection to God, self, and others and the ability to perceive circumstances clearly in the storm.
Rewire the nervous system to cry out and receive help from Jesus in the storm rather than react in fight, flight, fawn, freeze, or shutdown.