Sexual abuse comes in many forms.
Whether it’s a child forced to watch pornography by a paedophile, a teenager betrayed by a relative, a woman assaulted on a night out or a man raped at knifepoint amid civil war, such atrocities leave deep wounds. For many, sexual abuse is a crime that impacts them for decades – it is a uniquely cruel violation of body and mind.
Common themes
No two stories are the same, but there are some common themes among those who have been abused. Often survivors will experience deep shame – a sense of being tainted by what has been done to them. That can be accompanied by isolation, imagining that no-one will ever be able to understand their pain. Frequently, they will experience anxiety and find it hard to trust. Some respond to such fear by building barriers – ensuring others never get close – others mask their fear under alcohol, drugs, perfectionism or overwork.
Eating disorders and self-harm abound in the lives of those who have been hurt, some choosing to desexualise their bodies, others attempting to calm the chaotic emotions within. Some question their sexuality. Still others condemn themselves as being worthless and fall into a lifestyle of promiscuity or violence, assuming that their only purpose is to be hurt by family and ‘friends’. And then there are struggles with faith: after all, what kind of God allows a child to be raped?
Common occurrence
Such experiences are far from rare. It is estimated that one in six children will suffer some kind of sexual abuse; one in five women will experience sexual violence, mostly at the hands of someone they know well, and around 12,000 men are raped each year in England and Wales alone. Many don’t report what has happened. Countless carry their burdens alone. These survivors are in our churches, they are living down our streets.
So we should never be surprised when someone tells us that ‘a man did nasty things’ when they were a child or a date ‘didn’t give them a choice’. But how can we best walk alongside someone who has been hurt in this way?
Listen and believe
The first steps are always to listen and believe. It’s hard to share memories of sexual abuse – the fear of rejection can be high – so it is important not to compound pain by doubting or dismissing what has happened. And, on a legal note, it’s worth remembering that if sexual abuse in ongoing (or suspected) in the life of a child, it’s obligatory to report it, to work within the church’s safeguarding policy to ensure they are protected from further harm. It’s worth remembering too, that God is a God of justice – he has appointed human authorities for just such a reason – and so asking adults if they want to report an assault (and offering to go with them) is always wise, no matter how long ago it occurred.
Where tough things can be shared
But beyond legal recourse there is much the church can do to help survivors begin to trust, hope and even – in time – forgive. Intentionally creating a culture where tough things can be shared – through testimony, book reviews and small groups where openness is modelled by leaders – helps people to be real. Quietly listening as someone tells their story, at their own pace, can bring light into dark places. Slowly unpacking the character of God from the letter to the Philippians and seeing how his authority is different to abusive power can be a transfor-mational journey.
Seeing in the pages of Amos that God is angered by abuse can bring perspective and relief. Using the Psalms to help people pour out their emotions to their heavenly Father can build relationship and trust. Dwelling on the riches of John 4, seeing Jesus’s tender compassion for a woman repeatedly tossed aside, can remove isolation. Reflecting regularly on Ephesians 1 can realign even the most distorted sense of identity. Seeing hope in Revelation 21–22 can enable those struggling to persevere.
All that done in a community of prayerful patience and love – where people are allowed to change slowly – can bring real hope. And, as the Holy Spirit works from within, true Christ-like beauty can come to those who are broken.
