The Truth in Fiction
I’m currently working on book 4 of THE ROSE COLLECTION (and daily praying that books 1–3 will sell so I can afford to KEEP writing). It deals with the lingering PTSD of child sexual abuse long after the victims have reached adulthood and how it affects every aspect of a person’s life (physically, spiritually, emotionally, and romantically).
When I started the book years ago, I didn’t intend for it to be about recovering from child sexual abuse. It wasn’t until last summer when I was attempting to rewrite this novel into something I’d actually want to read when the main male character let me know he had a story to tell. He was pretty insistent, so I gave him a voice on the page.
As soon as Michael Bernard began to speak, I knew I was on to something. And then, in that ANNOYING way that characters have, he stopped and I didn’t know why. It took days of writing AROUND his reluctance to talk about his past, and I was getting frustrated with him. I couldn’t understand his current motivations, actions, and “quirks.”
When he finally started speaking again, my heart bled for him. Michael’s story needed to be told and he needed to be the one who told it. I cried the whole time I wrote his pivotal scene. I still cry every edit.
My non-writing family looks at me like I’m insane when I talk about my characters this way, but other authors know it’s a perfectly normal writer’s trait. Our characters ARE real, as are the entire universes we keep inside our heads. But, this doesn’t mean we don’t appreciate or use outside input. I listen to podcasts where the mic is routinely passed to the victims so their voices can be heard. I also read books written by survivors recovering from abuse and by those who help them in a professional capacity. The Body Keeps the Score gave me insight into the physical reactions to abuse long after the survivor is safe and recovering.
I’ve also learned to listen quietly when someone needs to share their story. I’ve become a sounding board for people involved in church ministries and culture who have been going through life thinking abuse was something experienced by them and maybe a few others. They have no idea how many lives have been affected. Then they read one of my books and reach out. What happened in the book also happened to them. They saw themselves represented on the page. Just like my characters, they’ve experienced anxiety, PTSD, depression, and frustration. Just like my characters, they’ve learned how to work around many of those issues by going to therapy, adjusting their lifestyles, cutting toxic people out of their lives, or escaping an abusive situation.
Spiritual, sexual, physical, economic, emotional, and verbal abuse in today’s churches isn’t uncommon. It is rampant, especially in institutions where that abuse goes unchecked for fear of angering those in leadership. Victims who are brave enough to come forward are often told to overlook abusive behavior for the sake of the abuser’s or the ministry’s “reputation” (“This kind of accusation could seriously damage the work of God we’re trying to do” “Just think about all of the people he/she/we have helped over the years,” “I saw them weep over lost souls, heard them pray for God’s power, listened to them talk about biblical convictions!”). Guilt over possibly hurting the abuser’s family is liberally applied (“You don’t want to hurt their wife/husband/children, do you? The fallout from these accusations would be horrible for them!”). Leaders might question the reaction of the victim. (“Are you sure it wasn’t just an accident/joke?” “It doesn’t sound like it was all that bad. After all, she was already 15 and all he did was touch her breasts and put his hand in her underwear. It’s not like he had sex with her.”) There is even the not-so-subtle implication that the victim was the one at fault. (“What were you wearing/ doing/ saying when the so-called ‘assault’ happened?”)
Those still attending and serving in toxic churches don’t want to face the truth. But they also don’t want to face the fiction.
When they hear that I write contemporary Christian fiction I get the smirk, the eye roll, and the condescending, “I prefer non-fiction.”
Okay. Let’s talk non-fiction then. How about a book exploring the roots of sexism in the church (which easily leads to abuse)? I can suggest The Making of Biblical Womanhood by Beth Allison Barr.
There’s also Worthy by Elyse Fitzpatrick and Eric Schumacher.
Or would you prefer a book about the biblical response that a pastor SHOULD have when facing abuse in his church (and in this case, his family)? Read Devil Inside by Jimmy Hinton.
Or read the memoir written by Sandy Philips Kirkham, a woman who was groomed/tested and sexually abused by her youth minister for years before she was able to break free from his clutches — only to have her church ask HER to quietly leave the congregation while they gave HIM a send-off party. She’s an advocate for abuse victims now. Her book is called Let Me Prey Upon You.
“I really don’t have much time to read.”
“No problem. Check out the Preacher Boys Podcast. It’s on multiple streaming platforms and YouTube. The host does a great job recommending resources that you can use to follow up and do your own research. The best part of the podcast though is actually listening to survivors of abuse speaking openly about what they’ve endured and how they are recovering now.”
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCUnhn-4KoLWr0ffbPjMf-gQ/featured
“I don’t listen to many podcasts.”
“The Preacher Boys YouTube channel also has several short videos as well.
Of course, the crux of the conversations had with these kinds of church members isn’t the preference of media or genre or how much time they have. I know that. I realized a long time ago that the reason they don’t discuss or learn about the abuse around them is that they JUST DON’T WANT TO.
They are comfortably busy. They are happy in their little bubble of service, believing they are working for “the Lord,” and ignoring every sign that they are actually working for someone in church leadership whose whole motivation of gaining and maintaining power is disguised as a humble desire to reach out and share Christ with the community.
While they are busy, busy, busy, the people in their church and community who are hurting from abuse cover-ups and recurring PTSD are instructed to “Let go and let God,” a manufactured nonsense phrase that roughly translates to “We won’t help you. Exposing this problem might damage our ministry. Just trust God to handle it for you. Or, better yet, approach the person who abused you and forgive them.”
No.
No victim should ever be encouraged to sit down with their abuser and forgive them for the trauma they inflicted. Especially not when those who were victimized are children.
So where can survivors turn for spiritual help if they can’t trust church leadership? Some walk away from church altogether. Others turn away from God because the abuse inflicted on them was done in His name. But some find podcasts and documentaries. Or memoirs and academic studies.
And some buy books of contemporary Christian fiction, knowing that every time they turn the page, they will find healing, encouragement, and truth.
