Christians Deserve Consent
No this isn’t about sex, but we’re glad you’re here. Within Christian circles, there seems an apparent assumption that fellow Christians are inherently more trustworthy than those who do not believe. Is this a warranted assumption?
“One of the most beautiful things which can be discovered through continuous membership in a church is a profound sense of connectedness to the people within that parish”
When Christians gather something mystical happens through the Spirit: the church is manifested. The church is first and foremost a community with a divinely bestowed identity and purpose, “the church exists to love God, its own, the world, and the whole creation because it is loved in covenantal communion with God.” One of the most beautiful things which can be discovered through continuous membership in a church is a profound sense of connectedness to the people within that parish. Even the people that you may not speak to often, or even at all. Ephesians 12:12-21 talks about the unity and diversity within the church; it is one body with many parts, working towards a common goal. When the church is gathered, there is an unspoken connection between people because we all belong to the same body. When one of us suffers, we all suffer, and when one of us is honoured, we all rejoice. Church in its truest form is expressed when people are brought together by a transformative love of and for Jesus; sharing a common desire to worship him and seek the newness which he spoke of established on the earth (Eph 4:4-5).
It is fair to say that we inherently have high expectations of our church communities, because in our hearts we know that the church community is designed and meant to be a special place. A visible outcome of this is a subconscious culture of openness and trust towards each other. For example, when I am asked a personal question by another believer, I find myself willing to be vulnerable and give an honest answer because I perceive that I am in a safe place simply by being with them. However, Christians need to know that there is more to relationality and community than being honest, and while the trust and safety we feel with other Christians is attractive, it is often untested. The pursuit of real and deep community is, in fact, never ending, but our temptation is to live as if we have already discovered it in its fullness. Our hypothesis is that this is an unwise assumption, because if on the road to belonging, vulnerability is being abused, then there is something deeply wrong.
“To want to share these things with others is wonderful, but it is when these questions are requested or couched within an inconsiderate space that is our concern here”
The questions which we are speaking of could be something like “How’s your walk with God going?”, “What is God speaking to you about?”, or “What’s your story?” Questions like these target deep personal and spiritual experiences, and oftentimes, to give an honest answer is to make oneself incredibly vulnerable. Disclosing personal or spiritual realities is exposing: how I feel about God or myself, how I describe my faith journey thus far, whether I’m ashamed or currently plagued with doubt - to talk about our relationship with God is to talk about “the ground of our being.” Our sense of identity, our personal journeys, and what transformation we have or have not experienced all come into play. And the answers we give are valuable, even sacred, because they testify to the work of God in the world and reveal the fingerprints of the Spirit on our hearts. To want to share these things with others is wonderful, but it is when these questions are requested or couched within an inconsiderate space that is our concern here. Let us explain what we mean.
I was in a situation once where I was abruptly asked a deeply personal question about my recent experiences with God. Talking about God is something that I love to do, but the question came as a shock to me, because I did not know the asker very well and the question appeared to come entirely out of the blue. I was caught off guard, but fumbled together an answer anyway, telling myself that it couldn’t hurt to satisfy the question. After the sudden conversation had ended, I honestly felt hurt and foolish. The question had thrown me under the bus and though it wasn’t a bad one, I was annoyed that the person had neglected to prepare a reflective space proportionate to our undeveloped relationship and the magnitude of the question. It felt like vulnerability had been asked of me as if I was a soap dispenser, and I was not any richer or more connected with that person for it. I wished that person had been more considerate of me, and I wished I had been self aware enough in the moment to know that I could have said no, or “I’ll think about it.” The opportunity for me to consent to that conversation - “Can I ask you a personal question?”, or “You don’t have to answer now if you don’t want to…” - would have positively impacted my experience with that person.
There is another side to this which is worth exploring. I have had the experience in church where, because I am no longer new to the community, I am in a good position to serve as a welcomer and be the person whom new people connect with. Being in that position is always a little tricky. On one hand, I don’t want to ask questions that would require me to have someone share an important part of themselves when, a) I don’t have the time to create a good listening environment (in the hustle and bustle of the end or beginning of church), b) I’m not ready to offer some kind of further support if needed (i.e. meet for a cup of coffee, be ready to follow up next week etc.), and c) I don’t have a good enough relationship with them in the first place to even ask such a thing. Yet, on the other hand, I don’t want to just chit chat and not be open to what God could do within a brief encounter. In response to this dilemma, I have frequently assumed that the more vulnerable that person and I can be with each other, the more connected we will become. However, no amount of vulnerability alone can manufacture true community; it takes time and mutuality and intention. I do that person a disservice if I am willing to ask probing questions, but unwilling to walk with them beyond a conversation, and I do myself a disservice if I end up sacrificing a boundary in favour of sharing openly or supporting someone I have no prior relationship with.
Healthy and intentional relationships are the best breeding ground for trust. Where there is no trust, there is little relationship, and vulnerability without either of these things is always risky. It can leave one person hurt and the other person feeling an unwarranted sense of pride for fostering a so-called safe place or asking a poignant question. Furthermore, the sharing of vulnerability doesn’t always mean that there is more connection between people. One or both parties may feel they owe their vulnerability to the other person simply by the subject being breached, or what is disclosed by the sharer may not be held respectfully and graciously by the listener. What is particularly heartbreaking is when this happens within the church. Personal encounters founded on premature trust, which ultimately strengthen neither the relationship nor the spiritual wellbeing of the vulnerable party, should not be the pursuit of Christians. We must pursue wisdom and examine ourselves to see that we are acting and speaking to others with discernment (Gal 6:4-5, Prov 2:9-11).
There are some relational spaces within a church or for believers where these concerns do not necessarily apply. When you go up for prayer, there is an implicit understanding that by going to the front, you are consenting to sharing personal information about yourself for the sake of receiving prayer ministry. As Job says, “My intercessor is my friend as my eyes pour out tears to God; on behalf of a man he pleads with God as one pleads for a friend” (Job 16:20-21). Your trust and good faith in the person who prays with you is warranted; they have made themselves available for this service and understand the protocols involved. Likewise, when you seek counsel from a priest, pastoral carer, mentor or supervisor, there is a reasonable expectation that these persons can be trusted to uphold confidentiality, and be gracious with what vulnerability you disclose. In these cases, it is not necessary to have a pre-existing personal relationship for a reasonable and conscious level of trust to be present. There are also occasions where the Spirit might prompt us to connect with people we don’t know well. In times such as this, being humble and showing graciousness towards the other person demonstrates a willingness to be respectful and not overly zealous, and ultimately brings honour to the Spirit from whom the message has come.
“If we want to get serious about establishing the sense of community that we long for, we need to understand the weight of vulnerability, and what it costs, and how much it can hurt when it is asked for or given non-consensually”
So where does this leave us? The Christian church shares a collective desire for relational restoration between all persons: young and old, male and female, familiars and strangers (Gal 3:26-28). This desire reflects the desires of God, “For he himself is our peace, who has made the two groups one and has destroyed the barrier … His purpose was to create in himself one new humanity out of the two, thus making peace, and in one body to reconcile both of them to God…” (Eph 2:14-16). If we want to get serious about establishing the sense of community that we long for, we need to understand the weight of vulnerability, and what it costs, and how much it can hurt when it is asked for or given non-consensually. Love your neighbour and respect them. Understand that they are not you, even though we are one in Jesus, for we have each been “fearfully and wonderfully made” (Ps 139:14) and are distinct from each other. It is therefore a privilege and an honour to be the receptor of someone else’s vulnerability, to hear their story, but it is scary too, just as it is scary to share. The consent of both parties is vital; the exchange of trust and the common desire to be compassionate is vital. Without it, we miss the point of what it means to do this community thing better, and we risk the welfare of already broken people.
This article was never intended to recommend suspicion in the intentions of church-folk. We do not wish that at all. But if you have been hurt in a situation like the ones we have outlined above, we hope we have given you something to think about. The family of God is mystical and magnificent, but it is also built upon the shoulders of imperfect people who don’t always know what’s up. Participation in this community is coloured by a tension between what is divine and what is human; between what exists at the ontological level (true being) and what is seen on the surface. To those who have been hurt and disillusioned, we want to say the following: don’t give up your belief and desire for what the church can be, but consider establishing some boundaries to safeguard your wellbeing and allow healing.
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What can you do going forward?
Know that you are allowed to hold yourself gently and that you can turn people down if you are uncomfortable, even if they are believers and have the best intentions.
Be aware of who the people are that have made a commitment to truly know you. Prioritise their input and listening ear.
In the back of your mind always consider what is proportionate to your relationship with others. Are you the right person to hold that information, or ask that question? Is this the right person to talk to?
Check your ego. Sometimes God prompts us to engage with people we don’t know, but sometimes we seek engagement to look impressive on the outside or feel good about ourselves. Ask yourself, who is the real beneficiary of this conversation?
Vulnerability takes courage: commend and thank other people when they are open with you and regard yourself kindly when you are.
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Jess Hall and Cirũ Mũriũki are strong friends and keen academics who are passionate about God, humankind, and transformation.