Here's a fun thought experiment: Imagine you are in line at a coffee shop or helping with a newcomer's lunch at church, and you spot a person who seems really, really familiar. Once you look past the questionable fashion choices and the "what exactly were they thinking?" haircut, you realize that this person you are meeting is in fact a younger version of yourself, from 20 or so years ago.
After the initial shock wears off, and you recognize your younger self, what would you do? Would you introduce yourself fully to yourself? Or would you exercise restraint so as not to freak them out? If you were to sit down for a chat, what do you imagine that conversation would be like? What would you want to say? And how do you think the younger you would receive your thoughts?
That's where we start with this one, good people. But there's oh so much more.
What do we make of the suggestion that our bodies "keep the score" of the difficult circumstances, lesser "small-t" traumas, and downright harm that we have experienced throughout life? If that notion is true, or at least a potentially helpful therapeutic concept, what do we do if we realize that "the score" sometimes was decidedly not in our favor? What does healing look like, when the harm was experienced so long ago, and yet its aftereffects linger with us (sometimes in very problematic ways)?
What if we can't remember the details of what happened, and we aren't even sure it should be a big deal? Or what if we can describe some events thoroughly, but only from a place of sheer emotional detachment, because "the past is in the past, and what can you do?"
And what does any of this mean for our relationship with God? If we have befallen harm in our families of origin-- and most of us have, to at least some degree-- how do we reconcile that reality with our view of God? Where was He in those darkest moments? And if He is "the same yesterday and today and forever," and he has the power to overcome evil with good, why didn't He do it then?
Spoiler alert: we don't offer answers to these questions. We can't.
We can, however, offer a safe place to wrestle with them, honestly. And not just with our minds, but with every fiber of our bodies and hearts. As well as a picture of a God who we can dare to hope is with us and for us, even in the midst of our confusion, doubt, and pain.