Creating Safe Spaces & Building a Culture of Care

Care Ministry, in general, is very near and dear to my heart. Coming from my own adverse childhood experiences (ACEs) and working in that space—writing my book about that experience—I have a deep love and a deep motivation to help other people who are struggling and hurting.

I grew up in a very different kind of religious culture that was toxic and frequently abusive. Having found a spiritual home for my heart at FAC, I see the potential for safe spaces for people who are struggling, like I was. I didn’t always feel safe at church and wasn’t sure there was a church where I could feel completely safe.

Even after being at FAC for years, I was unsure how safe I was to fully open up. Over time, as the culture has shifted toward meeting people in their most authentic journey—as their most effective, authentic selves—and holding space for that, knowing that Jesus holds space for us, we are now becoming better at holding space as well. We are developing a much safer spiritual community, and that excites me. That’s what makes my heart beat fast—to be involved in creating safe spaces for people because, until the last few years, I rarely felt that safety for myself. Now that I feel it, I’m greedy—I want everybody to feel it.

It can be difficult to open up and find a space where you feel totally authentic and safe to be your most authentic self, especially if you’re struggling. So many people have a preconceived idea: Am I safe to ask this question? Am I safe to have doubts? Am I safe to be mad at God because of the circumstances I’m in?

I’ve had more than one person tell me—when I was doing Renewing Hope—that they were struggling with a situation and were really angry with God about it, but then very quickly shift to, “But I know that’s a sin, and I know… I’m afraid that God is angry with me for this. I’m afraid that God is angry with me for my mental illness and that I can’t get over it.”

I’m like, “Number one, is it okay if I give you a hug? And number two, God’s not mad at you.” This was the first time this person had ever said those words inside church walls. Just creating that space for people—this is what we need more of. 

I’ve been mad at God for plenty of things, and I know He can take it because He’s a big God. He is my Father, and He understands if I need to have a tantrum once in a while and let it loose. In fact, He’d rather I do that with Him than anyone else.

God says, “Yes, bring that to me. You’re my kid. I love you. Whatever version of yourself you’re bringing to me today, you are safe with me.”

And if I know I’m safe with my Heavenly Father in that way, I want the church to be an extension of that. I want God’s house to be an extension of that safe place. Whatever version of you shows up through the doors, we’re just so glad you’re here—because you’re home, and this is family. Nothing is unsafe, nothing is unsavoury, and nothing will make us turn our backs on you—because nothing will make God turn His back on you.

That is the kind of culture I want to be a part of, the kind of culture I want to create. But I do know that people in extreme crisis need far more than a weekend service. They need a specific, targeted, curated kind of approach and support—more than what we can give on a macro level.

Having a ministry like Stephen Ministry, where we can access high-level training specific to care and support—specific to people in crisis—means we are now trained to go into a situation with someone one-on-one and give them the support they desperately need. We go into that with boundary training, with Scripture training, with learning how to listen actively, how to ask the right questions, how to set process goals—not result goals. We learn not to say things like, “Here are three things to solve your problem—good luck!” That’s not what we do. We do relationship.

Just like in mental health peer support work that I do, I’m not a therapist—that’s not my job. But when professional therapy is combined with valid, trained, boundary-resourced peer support, the overall outcome is so much better. We go into it knowing we are not here to solve your problem. I’m here to be with you once a week and give you that support.

Think of a person with cancer undergoing chemo. I’m not the doctor. I can’t give them the chemo, but I can sit with them while they take it. I can tell them it’s okay to be sick. It’s not okay to be alone here. And I’m going to make sure you’re not alone. Just like with trauma recovery. Just like with mental health struggles. Just like with sudden crises.

It’s okay to struggle. It’s not okay to struggle alone. That’s why God created us—to be the hope of the world. That is the church’s job, to be together and to do this in community. So we must equip ourselves as much as we possibly can.

And Stephen Ministry Course brings quite honestly the best equipping I’ve ever seen. Coming from the lens of mental health and trauma recovery peer support—because that’s the lens I look at everything through—I am incredibly difficult to impress. The thing that makes it stand out, in my opinion, is the deep sensitivity to people in crisis.

I’ve supported and worked with a number of people who have come from a background of religious abuse. Say the word “church” to them, say the word “God” to them, and they’re out. We are dealing with people in crisis who may be really upset with God, who may be feeling like God is out to get them.

It’s so important when you’re dealing with hurting people that we do not make assumptions—that we listen, and we listen for more, and we ask questions, and we listen for more, and we don’t jump in with solutions. We’re not there to provide solutions. We’re not saviours—God is the Saviour. They don’t need me to be a saviour. They already have One.

When you approach someone in pain and in crisis from a mindset of curiosity and compassion, with healthy boundaries that have been communicated from the very beginning, it’s a beautiful, safe space—and God can do so much with that. In my opinion, I believe that this is how the body of Christ is supposed to be operating. This is how we’re supposed to be behaving. This is how we bear one another’s burdens—safely, kindly, compassionately, and with consent.