In John chapter 9 verses 18-23, the proxy trial of Jesus for healing a blind man on the Sabbath moved into a new phase. The Pharisees decided to subpoena the testimony of the man’s parents to determine whether his story was true.
They asked them to substantiate his identity by confirming whether he was really their son, and if so, to corroborate his healing claim by verifying he’d been blind since birth. And finally, assuming they could affirm all this, they wanted them to explain how he’d gained his sight.
His parents assured them he was their son and that until now he’d been blind his entire life. But they claimed to have no answer for how this dramatic change occurred or who may have been involved.
Although it’s likely their son had shared the story of his healing with them, it appears they weren’t on scene for the actual event. So, since they weren’t eyewitnesses, they possessed plausible deniability and chose to exercise it. They refused to even offer an opinion. And we’re told why. They were afraid.
The Jewish elite had agreed that anyone confessing Jesus was the Messiah would be excommunicated. That meant they’d be cut off from the worship life of the synagogue and excluded from all interaction with their family and fellow Israelites. It was an extremely severe punishment known as the curse. And the threat of this loss of belonging was being used as religious intimidation.
Those are two words that never belong in the same sentence.
But first century Pharisees aren’t the only ones in positions of spiritual authority who’ve acted in ways that have left vulnerable people traumatized. And it deeply grieves me to consider how the Christian church and its leaders have at times also been guilty of wounding the people we've been called to serve.
For example, twice in the years of my ministry I was called on to lead a congregation through the aftermath of a previous pastor’s moral failure. And both times it was a heartbreaking challenge to wade into the pain, anger, distrust, and fear left behind in the hearts of precious people Jesus died for to try and minister his healing love to them.
Emotional wounds sustained in the context of one’s faith in God afflict the deepest part of the soul. Sadly, many people carry this type of pain. There’s even a term for it, church hurt.
Some of those who bear these scars have left the faith altogether. Others are like walking-wounded. They remain in our churches but feel distant from God and deal with trust issues that hinder their relationships with leaders and keep them from the rich fellowship with other believers we all need.
If that sounds familiar, if you’ve experienced any form of church hurt, my heart breaks for you. More importantly, God’s does. And I urge you to not allow the scars you’ve sustained to define either your relationship with him or his people. I encourage you to bring your pain to him and not allow it to keep you from him. Pause right now and let him draw you close. I assure you he’s able to heal your wounds and restore the kind of secure, loving connection with his church you long for.