Holiness & Suffering
Holiness and sanctification are two words that have often carried with them immense amounts of baggage. They are often associated with legalistic movements. In my own faith background, there was a time when the mark of a holy wedding was one at which there was no dancing or drinking. My own 2019 wedding was dry, necessitated by the holiness codes of the Christian campground where my husband and I tied the knot. It is not the intent of this blog post to debate the necessity of abstaining from alcohol. However, as people who desire to work for the healing of religious trauma and see an end to spiritual abuse, we believe it is important to address the baggage often associated with the Christian doctrines of holiness and sanctification.
In recent conversations regarding spiritual abuse and religious trauma, the teachings of holiness and sanctification have been pointed to as ones that do far more damage than removing alcohol from weddings. They have been called abusive. While many of us in church circles may be tempted to immediately resist such strong language around a teaching that is central to our Christian faith, we would do well to listen to those who have experienced harm and seek to understand where we have perhaps gone wrong.
In her recent book on religious trauma, Dr. Laura E. Anderson writes the following, “Sanctification does have an end goal: heaven. And with that, sanctification dismisses walking through pain and instead focuses on the point of growth or on finding a reason for the pain. Healing, however, is motivated by life on this earth - moving through the pain because healing ourselves allows us to live full and vibrant lives for ourselves, in relation to others and the world. Healing is not about circumventing pain or even being pain-free but about walking through the pain and trauma so they don’t define us, thereby allowing for depth, compassion, kindness, and empathy towards ourselves and others” (Anderson, When Religion Hurts You, p. 8). In this quote, Dr. Anderson demonstrates a commonly held view that there is a difference between sanctification and healing which is born out of the even more prevalent idea that holiness and suffering must be mutually exclusive. While I agree with Dr. Anderson that holiness and sanctification can be abusive teachings, I disagree with her assessment of why that is. Truthfully, it is this separation of suffering from holiness, the distinguishing of healing from sanctification, that I believe creates a holiness doctrine that is harmful. When the church teaches a holiness that has no room for suffering alongside a sanctification that is demonstrated best by the removal of pain, we do great harm. There is much we can learn from Dr. Anderson’s description of sanctification, primarily how to not speak of it.
If I am honest, it is when I read Dr. Anderson’s description of healing, what she contrasts with sanctification, that I see holiness. Walking through suffering and growing in compassion, kindness, and empathy towards others, what of that is not holy? Well, as she points out to us, there are many who would argue that walking through suffering is not holy, and if there is anything holy to pain it is simply the lessons it teaches us. But is this a biblical interpretation of holiness? I would argue it is not. In fact, it is a relatively new understanding of holiness, tied directly to the charismatic healing movements of the 1800s. While there is much beauty that came from the charismatic revivals of the 1800s and there is much we can celebrate, it unfortunately also created what could be described as a mutually exclusive doctrine of holiness and suffering. In other words, suffering and pain were pitted against holy living. If suffering came, it was the result of unrepentant sin or inflicted on an individual to strengthen their holiness, to teach them a lesson, to sanctify them. This had not been the teachings around holiness and suffering prior to this movement. Even John Wesley, who is considered a father of the holiness movement, did not hold such a stringent view of suffering. In fact, his writings demonstrate a clear understanding that holiness and suffering often mingle together in these lives we live. He writes, “Christian perfection, therefore, does not imply (as some men seem to have imagined) an exemption either from ignorance, or mistake, or infirmities, or temptations. Indeed, it is only another term for holiness.” For Wesley it is evident that a life marked by holiness is not a life absent of suffering in its many forms. In fact, by looking closely at the life of Wesley, it can be argued that his pursuit of holiness, particularly as a perfect love for God and others, led him ever deeper into the brokenness of the world, engaging with the suffering of the other that he might love them well and practically. In other words, Wesley’s description of and lived out holiness was far more similar in appearance to Anderson’s description of healing as he grew in compassion, kindness, and empathy, or what he would describe as Christian perfection, as he moved towards the suffering of his neighbors.
Unfortunately, this historic view of suffering and holiness has all but disappeared in many of our churches. Anderson’s description of a sanctification that sees suffering as a signal of a lack of holiness is far more prevalent. If these teachings around holiness remain dominant, they will continue to harm people and will prevent the church from being a conduit of the healing that is found only in Christ and the sanctification he brings. So what do we do? Where do we go from here? We must return to biblical teachings around holiness and suffering. We must resist the temptation to explain away pain with Christian platitudes like, “everything happens for a reason.” Instead we must engage in the difficult, holy work of encountering God in the suffering, of discovering how pain and sanctification are not mutually exclusive. To help us begin, I want to offer this alternative picture of holiness:
When holiness is seen as perfect love, not behavior modification or legalistic rules, then we can answer the question of “why suffering?” by reminding ourselves and our communities that God, in his holiness as demonstrated through perfect love, opens himself up to rejection and pain. Human rejection of God’s perfect love has allowed suffering to enter the world; however, it is also God’s holiness that transforms suffering. God’s holy nature means that he does not stand outside of pain and darkness as a manipulative teacher using painful methods to reform our behavior. Rather, his holiness (as demonstrated best through perfect love) causes him to suffer with his people in such a way that he might work for restoration through his redemptive, holy power. This answer to the question of why in the face of suffering is not simple, nor does it easily package itself into one sentence. Rather, it invites those wrestling with it to look at the deeper question of where God is in the pain and how they might engage with it as they encounter God in that place. This is where communities of faith pursuing holiness have the opportunity to choose to go deeper into their own suffering and areas of pain to find healing. Here holiness and suffering exist together. Here sanctification is not the removal of pain but rather encountering God in painful places as we grow in love for God and others.
This description of holiness also reminds us of why we cannot abandon the teachings of holiness and sanctification as we seek to heal from religious trauma and end spiritual abuse. Without the holiness of God, healing cannot come. Without the beauty of sanctification which propels us to engage with the suffering of the world as Christ did and continues to do so, we will continue to see spiritual abuse. Holiness and sanctification are central to healing, not antithetical to it. We must cling to holiness while abandoning the harmful ways it has been taught and spoken of and in doing so we can move towards healing together.
