Excerpt from the book Copyright © 2025 by Karl Forehand
Get Away from Your Trauma
“Trauma is a fact of life.
It does not, however, have to be a life sentence.”
– Peter A. Levine
When I first stepped away from the pulpit and my role as a pastor, my immediate reaction was to seek solace in a larger church. I soon began searching for ways to reconnect with ministry experiences. Yet, despite this new church aligning more closely with my theological beliefs, I recognized that churches often share a similar foundation and frequently face the same systemic challenges within organized religion.
After leading our second church, we decided to take a break after 13 years in the ministry. We chose a larger church about an hour away from some friends and one of our children. This new church provided more resources than the smaller ones we had pastored. The pastor was engaging and charismatic, although I suspected he had some undisclosed issues. After approximately two years, we returned to leading a smaller church, which we replanted and had some success with.
Later, the larger church appointed a new pastor and became increasingly involved in local politics. They successfully removed a gay pastor from the library board, even though he neither selected books nor participated in any activities that warranted criticism. Their opposition was based solely on his sexual orientation, leading them to manipulate the situation to prevent him from serving in a volunteer role he cherished.
One of my weaknesses is my ambition; I recognize that overcoming challenges is crucial to achieving my goals. As a pastor, I noticed several issues within the church, but my stubbornness sometimes led me to overlook them. I wanted to believe that the church could provide solutions and that I could contribute to meaningful change. I hoped to make the world a better place and help people genuinely heal from their traumas and the adversities they faced.
However, this led me to overlook specific details I should have noticed. My wife, Laura, has better intuition than I do and sensed some issues before me. She expressed her concerns in some cases, but I brushed off her observations; at other times, she stayed silent to avoid upsetting the ministry or shattering my hopes.
Later, the same church sought to ban books from local school libraries but was unsuccessful. They also attempted to persuade schools to teach Bible lessons in public institutions. Discussions emerged about a significant corporate donor who consistently advocated for expanding private Christian schools through the voucher system. Both the church and this donor worked to reduce funding for public schools, pushing our state to rank among the lowest in public school funding, which increased the likelihood of their initiatives succeeding.
After leaving our third and final church, we started attending a more progressive one about an hour away in the same town. The pastor there embraced deconstruction and encouraged me to reframe my beliefs toward a more progressive or orthodox perspective, aligning with the church’s shift from its evangelical roots to a more mainline focus.
I settled in and began learning everything I could to reform the church from within. I aimed to explore the more contemplative aspects of the church, where I believed I could contribute. However, I quickly realized that this church was deeply rooted in evangelicalism and confronted ongoing systemic issues. I felt they didn’t trust me and concluded I wasn’t the right fit for their ministry.
While I found some connections to what I was learning, it felt nearly impossible to heal as I dealt with ongoing systemic issues within the church that consistently undermined me and ignored my trauma. I wouldn’t say people didn’t care about me, but eventually, most of our close friends moved on from the church to pursue different paths, and in the end, so did we.
Next, we visited a Methodist church across the street. It was a friendly, small-town church, and the pastor was our friend. She would come to cookouts at our house and was generally a good friend to us. I have no complaints about the church or its pastor. However, both Laura and I realized that there were just too many triggering aspects of religion, no matter how good the church was. Everything there reminded us of why we had left the ministry.
When we begin the healing process from trauma and search for answers, we often wish to mend our families or the religious systems that have caused us pain. However, organizations and families frequently resist change, which hinders genuine transformation. Much like our theological inquiries, we must eagerly seek answers, even if it entails moving away from beliefs that once felt secure. Personal healing may take longer than expected, and many systemic issues will remain unresolved until enough individuals choose to disengage, leading to a reevaluation and deconstruction of those systems. Individual change happens only when people feel compelled to alter their situations.
During our podcast interview, Cindy Wang Brandt, the author of Parenting Forward, suggested taking a year off from church. We had already considered this and were partially committed, so we decided to go for it! Adjusting to Sundays filled with freedom instead of obligation took us a few weeks. We both focused on personal growth and sought tools to support our healing journey. We meditated, read, wrote, and enjoyed breakfast out on Sundays instead of dressing up and commuting to church.
This is an excerpt from a blog I wrote a few years ago on Patheos, an interfaith platform that has significantly aided my deconstruction journey. The blog is titled Why Churches Generally Don’t Heal Our Trauma.[1] Healing from trauma in the same or similar circumstances as when we were wounded is generally quite challenging, and churches and religious organizations often make this even harder. Here are some reasons why!
I’m not denying that people have positive experiences in church. I had some good moments at work today and generally feel happy there. I get a sense of community from it. However, if I’m honest, I must admit that this manufacturing plant is not well-suited to heal my trauma. For instance, there’s always a lack of time. If we’re being truthful, I think we can agree that the Western Church (and most others) is not well-structured to address our trauma.
The Schedule Crowds Out Healing Time
I can still picture her horror when I asked her to share something from her personal life. She had been a devoted Sunday School teacher at a Baptist church for decades. However, when I led the Experiencing God study and requested personal details, she suddenly became still, reminiscent of my air conditioner malfunctioning earlier this year. This type of sharing wasn’t typical for this church at all. The usual routine included Sunday School, Sunday Service, Wednesday nights for the kids, and the occasional guest music group.
Larger churches offer more programming options, and many have small groups. I have been involved in various small groups to foster deeper engagement, but they often end up similar to the earlier example. Participants hesitate to share, and there’s rarely enough time to achieve the intended goals.
The church mainly directs its efforts toward the Sunday service and organizational management, leaving minimal time to uphold its commitment to healing. It is
Not Designed for Honest Dialogue
A typical Western church service unfolds like this: We are welcomed at the door and directed to the sanctuary upon arrival. This inviting setting allows us to view announcements or converse with others. As the service starts, rehearsed actions are performed in front of the auditorium. We are encouraged to sing the songs presented, participate in collective recitations, and listen to a prepared sermon or homily. This experience can be comforting, thrilling, emotional, and even uplifting.
However, the trauma we brought with us will remain because there was no time for essential healing processes. In Sunday School, lessons were set in advance, allowing for limited dialogue, which did not foster the type of conversation required for trauma recovery.
It Bypasses our Trauma
Intriguingly, religion draws in those who are traumatized yet often fails to facilitate their healing. Although it claims to help, it rarely fulfills that promise.
One reason for this shortcoming is spiritual bypassing. Spiritual bypassing occurs when we employ spiritual concepts or language to either obscure or dismiss our trauma. Phrases like “God is in control,” “You’ll get through this,” or “God has a purpose” bypass the essential work of confronting our pain. Lacking a proper space for healing, we often race past our trauma, even in support groups that are meant to facilitate the healing process.
I know that some contemplative groups are thriving; however, I also recognize how easily the organizational aspects can overshadow the more profound healing journey, leading us to skip over complex subjects when focused on activities.
It’s an Organization
Don’t overlook this crucial aspect. Regardless of how we label ourselves, churches function as organizations. They allocate about 70% of their revenue to salaries and facilities.[2] While programs are available for individuals seeking healing, financial resources are limited. Most church leaders are primarily trained to deliver sermons, manage the organization, attract new members, and maintain congregational satisfaction. It is unusual for a pastor to possess the appropriate training to provide counseling for individuals dealing with severe trauma; even if they do, time constraints often impede their ability to do so.
Just as in my workplace, people in pain often inflict pain on others, exacerbating the issue. Before churches invest in coffee shops to draw in new members, many of whom may arrive with their own traumas, they should focus on hiring counselors rather than theologians. A church focused on healing wouldn’t need to elaborate excessively from the pulpit.
I understand that two individuals can support each other’s healing, mainly through methods like focusing. However, I primarily observe this occurring outside the church’s walls. Having served as a pastor for 20 years, I witnessed significant trauma but found limited avenues to address it within the church framework. The existing system engaged people in ways that hindered healing rather than promoting it.
It Doesn’t Allow for Open Theology
Typically, the church has a primary teacher. All leaders and board members have agreed on the organization’s belief statement. The teacher usually does not allow questions or discussion, maintaining an authoritative stance. The exceptions are softball questions meant to support the speaker’s agenda. This approach implies, “This is essential knowledge to apply in your life.”
The church does not encourage questions or beliefs outside its creedal decisions. Congregants often disengage intellectually, seeking answers to their issues or challenges. While holding beliefs outside the organization’s framework may be tolerated, open discussion is generally discouraged, particularly during the main service.
It serves as a controlling mechanism, intensifying the trauma a person experiences. When my beliefs appear “different” yet persist, it amplifies my feelings of helplessness. If the message fails to acknowledge my trauma or offer healing, and no alternatives exist, I am left to languish and become increasingly unhappy. Moreover, I also experience shame.
For two decades in church, I suppressed my feelings and trauma until one day, they overwhelmed me, and I resigned from the ministry. Given the trauma I experienced and the lack of support I found in the church, I’m uncertain if I will ever return.
If your response is, “My church is better,” consider honestly if it is truly superior. Take a step back and spend time away from the church to reflect on whether it has genuinely contributed to your healing. Is it effectively addressing your trauma or merely masking it? Additionally, consider seeking quality counseling—perhaps from a trauma-informed therapist or an experienced spiritual director familiar with empathic witnessing. Reflect on whether you are actually receiving healing from your church. It might be possible to find healing there, or perhaps a break is what you need.
As I previously mentioned, Cindy urged us to take a year off. She prompted us to reflect on why we couldn’t take that break if we felt we belonged in our current situation. Once we stopped going to church, we began to heal rapidly. Sundays became a time for us to relax on the porch and engage in various helpful and healing activities in our living room. We reclaimed several hours each week for focusing sessions and profound healing discussions. Although I’m uncertain whether we will return to organized religion, I feel spiritually much more mature and have made significant progress in healing from past traumas.
“Like a Fish, Standing on the Beach”[3]
This phrase is the title of an episode of Rob Bell’s podcast, The Robcast. In it, he asks, “In the home you grew up in, did you hear the message, ‘Life is an adventure you’re invited to experience’ or ‘Life is a burden to bear’?” Reflecting on this question enables us to evaluate whether we are still affected by adverse environmental messages. To move forward, our perspective is vital for uncovering new insights and breaking free from harmful messages and conditioning.
In Bell’s illustration, the water represents our conditioning, where we receive messages that everyone else in the water has accepted. It was the water that we swam in, where we unconsciously were too close to the conditioning even to realize that we were being indoctrinated and influenced. When the fish was relocated from the water, it could consciously observe what was happening as it swam. Before, it was too close to the generational trauma and inherited assumptions to object or consciously strive to do anything differently.
The fish now have a new obligation to realize they have been in the water for a long time. It will take some time to reconsider what it is observing and discovering. It must remove itself from the water and gain proper perspective to stop telling the same story. Then, it can learn to tell itself a new story based on truth, consciousness, and a more robust intuition.
In the early stages of my deconstruction, I felt like a “fish out of water,” but I eventually grew comfortable with consciousness and an ever-evolving new perspective. I felt like a toddler learning to walk, but then I took the first step and another. Eventually, I gained the confidence to evolve past my conditioning to write my own story.
Bare Bones
I enjoy watching shows where they entirely demolish and renovate a house’s interior, keeping only the “bones” and transforming everything else. This is a helpful analogy when we think about the challenges of remodeling a home while still living in it. It complicates daily life and also hampers the process of efficient deconstruction and reconstruction. This visualization reminds us to gain distance from what we are tearing down, allowing us to heal and rebuild effectively afterward. I’ve observed homes where occupants reside while renovations take place. This often results in visible patchwork and minor repairs that most visitors can clearly identify as poorly executed.
A few good things came from attending church all those years, but most of it can be replicated elsewhere without all the fuss and bother of going to a building to support an organization. Whatever metaphor or illustration you assign to your deconstruction, you must consciously get out of the water you were swimming in or the house you are remodeling to heal and process what you are discovering effectively. Otherwise, to use Bell’s illustration, “you will be continually reconditioned by the environment you experience.”
Getting Away – Action Steps Why is it important to distance ourselves from situations that traumatize us? What makes religious organizations sometimes unhelpful in healing trauma? What did the fish show about conditioning? What aspects of your conditioning would you like to explore? Spend 5 minutes writing freely about your thoughts on this chapter and the questions that arose for you.
Why Campfires are Essential in Deconstruction
[1] https://www.patheos.com/blogs/thedesertsanctuary/2021/08/why-churches-generally-dont-heal-our-trauma/
[2] https://www.churchlawandtax.com/web/2019/march/how—churches—spend—money.html
[3] https://robbell.com/podcast-episode/like-a-fish-standing-on-the-beach/
Are you serious about deconstruction and asking bigger questions?
If that’s the case, this book was created for you. As a former pastor, I made the mistake of deconstructing a bit and then trying to start something new, as I was trained to do. The problem with that approach is that I wasn’t ready to begin something new.
I hadn’t delved deeply enough or asked enough questions. The first stage of deconstruction typically includes assessing our beliefs regarding hell and the afterlife, supporting queer individuals and women in their fight for equality, and achieving a better understanding of racism and privilege.
Many people in deconstruction communities expend significant effort criticizing Evangelicals and attempting to gain a following. While I believe they deserve intense criticism, this strategy fails to effectively tackle the problem because they generally don’t listen to us!
Our tendency to punish our former organizations sometimes overlooks the challenging process of healing and growth. It is the same trap we fell into in our former associations.
Listen here or find us on Audible!
Campfires occupy a special spot in the mosaic of history. They act as communal hubs across different cultures and faiths. The campfire’s circular design fosters equal participation within the collective group. The flames at the center draw our focus and encourage face-to-face interactions as we exchange experiences, wisdom, and insights about the world beyond. It is where legendary myths and tales are born.
Order Now – Study Questions in each chapter!
This book is named Campfires in the Desert as it stems from nearly 400 discussions we held with individuals on our podcast, The Desert Sanctuary, and our aspiration to improve.
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Karl Forehand Campfires in the Desert – A Soft Book Release Karl Forehand is a former pastor, podcaster, and award-winning author. His books include Out into the Desert, Leaning Forward, Apparent Faith: What Fatherhood Taught Me About the Father’s Heart, The Tea Shop, and Being: A Journey Toward Presence and Authenticity. He is the creator of The Desert Sanctuary podcast and community. He has been married to his wife Laura for 35 years and has one dog named Winston. His three children are grown and are beginning to multiply! You can read more about the author here.
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