Author: Craig Thompson

Interested in cross-cultural issues, particularly the emotional process of adjusting to new cultures, whether that’s brought about by a move to another country or a move back “home.”

Addressing Spiritual Abuse Experienced by Cross-Cultural Workers: An Interview with Mental-Health Counselor Silas West [—at A Life Overseas]

It’s been over a year since I talked here with Barnabas International’s Josh Beck about member care and cross-cultural workers. At the time, he mentioned “emotional and spiritual abuse” as a “pressure point” that Barnabas was beginning to look at and said he’d know more on the topic in six months.

While it took me longer than I’d planned on, I recently reached out to him again to follow up. (How time flies!) Josh said that Barnabas staff had come across abuse situations when providing member care, so they first decided to look at themselves to make sure they weren’t fostering any systems that could lead to abuse in their own organization.

This evaluation took the form of a spiritual-abuse audit, led by Silas West, an adult TCK and former cross-cultural worker in Nepal and member-care professional, who now works as a licensed mental-health counselor in the US. Josh suggested I contact Silas, and Silas kindly agreed to add his voice to our discussion. Following is our conversation, which took place over email.

Thanks, Silas, for talking with me about such an important topic. First off, what do you see as the characteristics of spiritual abuse, and how have you seen it take place in the world of cross-cultural work?

Thanks for asking this question and for making this issue known in a broader way. So specifically, you asked about the characteristics of spiritual abuse. The first characteristic is that spiritual abuse often occurs as a misuse of power. An individual or group with greater power causes harm (intentionally or unintentionally) to someone with less power. For abuse to be spiritual abuse, there must be a religious, sacred, or spiritual (faith-based) context.

This does not mean it has to only be within a church. It can take place in para-church organizations or faith-based organizations. It occurs in marriages or parenting where faith, Scripture, or fear of God is used to coerce or manipulate, and it can happen in a mentoring or discipleship setting or in a small group . . . anywhere where the sacred or faith is the context of the abuse.

It can be committed by an individual or by a group or system. It is not always committed by a leader. A pastor, leader, director, elder, or missionary team leader may be abusive. But so can a member of a congregation or team. If that member can wield the opinion of the group, even if that member is technically an equal in power sharing, practically, they hold power over the one being abused because they control the opinion or perspective of the group over the victim. Power is not just in the rank or role held. It can be real or perceived.

Spiritual abuse utilizes various methods to control, coerce, manipulate, or otherwise influence. Scripture is often used to persuade someone toward an outcome that the abuser wants. Theological teaching, fear of the eternal, or position in the group (like how the group may reject them if they disclose wrongdoing) are also used.

And one of the key characteristics of spiritual abuse is that it is not always intentional. In fact, I would say in the majority of abuse situations I work with, it happens unintentionally. But this is why it is often missed. Because those committing the abuse are usually in positions of authority or greater power, they get to dictate the narrative of what happened, which is filtered through the lens of their intentions.

What is essential to truly understand if abuse is occurring or not is the impact, not the intention. This means centering the victim when deciding when abuse has occurred. Whether it was intended or not, victims experience holistic spiritual, emotional, and psychological harm.

Spiritual abuse may include manipulation, exploitation, enforced accountability, censorship in decision making, requirements for secrecy and silence, pressure to conform, shaming, misuse of Scripture or the pulpit or leadership roles to control behavior, condemning language, requiring obedience, suggesting the abuser has a divine position, isolation from others, and more.

Read the rest of my interview with Silas at A Life Overseas. . . .

[photo: “Broken Glass,” by Rene Mensen, used under a Creative Commons license]

Telling Our Cross-Cultural Stories Can Feel a Lot like Sharing Last Night’s Dreams [—at A Life Overseas]

2012 Chinese New Year parade

I’m on a subway in a crowded city . . . a group of orange-clad monks carrying bright-blue IKEA bags enters my car . . . now I’m not on the subway . . . I’m on a bus . . . some children next to me are nibbling on chicken feet . . . the bus stops for a dragon parade . . . with lions . . . a cat waves at me from inside a 7-11.

Sound like a bizarre dream to you, or just another day in a life abroad? Sometimes it can be hard to be sure.

We’ve all woken up from a toss-and-turn night with a vivid story in our minds that we can’t wait to tell to somebody, whether or not they are interested in hearing it. Sharing that dream can have a lot in common with telling stories about our mundane, or not-so-mundane, adventures overseas. How? Let me count the ways. . . .

  1. Someone from back home asks you what life is like where you live. You tell them, and their eyes glaze over as your details get further unmoored from your passport-country’s culture and happenings. As the common touchpoints diminish, the interest often decreases. You won’t believe what happened to me last week! can sound an awful lot like You won’t believe what I dreamed last night!

Finish reading my post at A Life Overseas. . . .

[photo: “2012 Chinese New Year Parade,” by Jason Pier, used under a Creative Commons license]

Can You Ask Me Again How I Am? [—at A Life Overseas]

At some point in my life I learned not to accept hospitality on the first offer. Even if I want something, I need two or three invitations.

“Would you like a piece of cake?”

“Thanks. I’m OK.”

“Are you sure? I’ve got plenty, and I can’t eat it all myself.”

“Oh, I don’t want to bother you.”

“It’s no bother at all. Let me go get you some.”

“Well . . . I guess I could eat a small piece.”

I’m not sure where this habit came from, and it really is a habit. I often turn people down at least once even before I give it any thought, even when I realllllly want some cake. Did it start when I was a child with me imitating the culture of my small midwestern town? Did I get it from advice in a Dear Abby column? Or did I pick it up in my host Asian country, where saying yes too soon can be seen as a sign of greediness? Is that it? Do I do it out of not wanting to appear overeager, or could it be because I know that I sometimes make an offer simply out of politeness, hoping I’ll be turned down but still get credit for my generosity?

There’s another offer—or invitation—that is over-easy to decline. It’s when someone asks, “How are you?” We all have our pat answers: Fine. OK. Not bad. Wonderful. Can’t complain. Or we simply repeat back, How are you? And then the conversation, or at least the greeting part of it, is over. Because it is just a greeting, right? They don’t really want to hear about the problems I might have—and I don’t really want to overshare.

Those of us in cross-cultural ministry can get around the risk of vulnerability by pretending we were just asked, “How’s your work going?” and jumping into newsletter or church-report mode. “Things are going great! We had two new visitors at our meeting last week and we’re getting ready to host a college team. How are things with you?”

Or we just go silent, with nothing more than a slight smile or shrug. . . .

Read the rest of this post at A Life Overseas.

[photo: “conversation,” by Mario A. P., used under a Creative Commons license]

Watch for the Thing after the Thing [—at A Life Overseas]

I’ve written before about our return to Joplin one month after an F5 tornado devastated our Missouri community, and it’s been on my mind again lately. It’s not because of the approaching fourteenth anniversary of the event on May 22. Nor is it because of the recent release of the Netflix documentary focusing on Joplin, The Twister: Caught in the Storm. No, it’s actually because of a March 27 article in Christianity Today titled “Donated Clothes Still Being Sorted in Appalachia.”

“[S]ix months after the disaster,” writes Isaac Wood, referring to Hurricane Helene, “First Baptist Church of Roan Mountain is still swimming in donations.”

“We’ve still got probably 10,000 toothbrushes,” pastor Geren Street tells Christianity Today. “We’ve still got 20-something pallets of water bottles. I can’t tell you how much water we’ve given away, and to look out there and still see 20-something pallets? It’s crazy.”

I understand. While my oldest son was already living in Joplin when the tornado hit, the rest of us came back a few weeks later, in time to experience “the disaster after the disaster.” That’s what a friend who was instrumental in our church’s response efforts called it. So much was given to help the people of our community: the toothbrushes, the bottles of water that we all were drinking months later, the containers of clothing needing to be sorted by sex, by size, and by whether they were even wearable. And then there was the truckload of hundreds of flip flops with soles that would leave behind a picture in wet sand.

I thought my friend had made up the phrase “the disaster after the disaster.” But it turns out he probably heard it from one of the seasoned relief workers who’d shown up to help. Wood’s article points to several experts referring to the massive inpouring of donations—especially used clothing—as “the second disaster,” “a second-tier disaster,” and yes, “the disaster after the disaster.“

People experienced in relief work know to watch for the difficulties that follow natural disasters. They anticipate not only the need to take care of donations that demand huge amounts of time, space, and attention, but they also know to warn counselors, therapists, religious leaders, teachers, and parents to watch for the spiritual, mental, and emotional issues that will arise for months and years to come.

For some of you, who have faced or will face natural disasters in your part of the world, there’s practical advice here. But for all of us, in other areas of our lives and work, we can apply the lesson of looking out for how a solution can bring its own challenges, how an answer can lead to more questions. It’s “the thing after the thing.” . . .

Read the rest of my post at A Life Overseas. . . .

photo: “Binoculars V,” by Chase Elliot Clark, used under a Creative Commons license]

And Yet . . . : Acknowledgement and Encouragement for Those Serving in Weakness [—at A Life Overseas]

I did not come to this this place with superior eloquence or wisdom, but in weakness and in fear and with much trembling.
I became a little child among them.
Try as I might, I am slow of speech and slow of tongue.

God, I seek your face but I see in a mirror indirectly.

I started with such lofty goals, but my endurance has expired; I have lost all hope of deliverance from the Lord.

I am absolutely terrified, and you, Lord—how long will this continue?
The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.
My physical body is wearing away.

I am a clay jar.

Finish reading my post at A Life Overseas. . . .

[photo by Amanda King]

‘Tis the Season for Condescension [—at A Life Overseas]

Lately I’ve been feeling inadequate.

Not enough. Deficient. Incomplete. Lacking.

I’ve felt this way before. For instance, there was when I was trying to serve people in my host country but often coming up short in my ability to navigate the language and culture and ministry expectations. And now I’m back in my passport home trying to serve people who are new to the US, working on their own navigations. And I frequently get tripped up by the red tape and details and deadlines—even though it’s my system we’re dealing with.

It’s challenging to be in a position where you feel in over your head, and when you’ve put yourself there by choice, it adds to the complicated emotions. It all can easily become overwhelming. It helps, though, to develop an attitude of humility—the kind of humility Christ modeled when “he made himself nothing, by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness” (Philippians 2:7 NIV), and came to our world as a baby, as one of us, even the least of us. He “condescended.”

Today, we warn against condescension, but the meaning of condescend was originally to climb down to be with someone of a lower rank or position. Back then, that was considered a good thing, and the word was used to describe Jesus’ journey to be with us. It was only later that condescend took on the negative connotation of making a show of superiority.

Finish reading at A Life Overseas. . . .

[photo: “Ladder from Above,” by Erik Norvelle used under a Creative Commons license]

Helping Cross-Cultural Workers Flourish through Member Care: An Interview with Josh Beck, Executive Director/CEO of Barnabas International [—at A Life Overseas]

I’ve known Josh Beck for quite a while, having attended and being sent out for overseas work by the same congregation. We’ve had a lot of good conversations over the years, and now that he’s recently completed his first year as the Executive Director/CEO of Barnabas International, I wanted to ask him a few questions about the importance of member care for those serving abroad.

First question, Josh: What has caused you to value the role of member care in cross-cultural work?

When we were serving overseas, my family and I were the recipients of member care, mainly from our sending church. We have some incredible stories of how they shepherded us before, during, and as we exited our ministry overseas. This impressed upon me the important role that pastoral care plays in living out our calling.

Sometimes, we can take the view that member care is not particularly essential to missions. Strategic thinkers hash out methodologies for witnessing, identify key areas of the world the gospel has yet to penetrate, and whiteboard inventive ways to utilize tools and resources to “accomplish the mission.” What is often overlooked is the fact that flourishing missionaries birth flourishing ministries. Who we are becoming while we follow our call is just as, if not more, important than what God is calling us to do!

What is the path that led you from missionary to executive director of a member-care organization?

The path that led me into my current role is a bit circuitous. . . . (read more at A Life Overseas)

[photo: “Talk,” by Georgie Pauwels, used under a Creative Commons license]

Waiting and Watching at the Airport [—at A Life Overseas]

If all the world’s a stage, then one of the best seats is at the arrivals gate at an international airport.

And if you’re like me, you’ve spent quite a bit of time waiting to pick up travelers, watching the cast of thousands walk by.

In 2009, British author Alain de Botton was selected to spend a week at London’s Heathrow Airport as its “writer-in-residence.” In the resulting book (appropriately titled A Week at the Airport), he says that “Entry into the vast space of the departures hall heralded the opportunity, characteristic in the transport nodes of the modern world, to observe people with discretion, to forget oneself in a sea of otherness and to let the imagination loose on the limitless supply of fragmentary stories provided by the eye and ear.”

The arrivals hall, I would contend, is no less filled with potential stories.

Your time at the airport may not produce a book, but you nonetheless can record in your mind the many vignettes playing out before you. As you witness the newly deplaned begin to pour into the arrival area, signaling that another flight has landed, as you catch glimpses backstage of pilgrims gathering their luggage, as you see the crowds readying themselves for whatever lies beyond the exit doors . . . as you watch and wait at the airport, do you recognize these travelers?

A businessman, head down, shouting into a Bluetooth earpiece, power walking past you to get to someplace very important before it’s too late to take care of a very important thing.

The foreign family with two small children, dazed and wide eyed, looking for someone who looks like them to reassure them that they’ve arrived at the right place. Is it you?

Finish reading my post at A Life Overseas. . . .

[photo: International Arrivals,” By HolidayExtras, used under a Creative Commons license]