Jenai Auman’s “people” are those who feel othered and unwelcome in traditional church spaces. As a Filipina American writer and artist, she uses her years of church ministry experience, education, trauma-related training and personal encounters with spiritual abuse to share healing and hope with others. If you’ve seen her work in Christianity Today, She Reads Truth and The Fallow House or read her latest book, “Othered,” you know Jenai isn’t afraid to be honest — but always with the goal of fostering true shalom. Join us today for an enlightening conversation about dealing with conflict, healing from church trauma and how Jenai invites God into her creative process.

QUESTION #1: ACQUAINT

There’s much more to food than palate and preference. How does a go-to meal at your favorite hometown restaurant reveal the true you behind the web bio?

I live in Houston today, but I grew up on the coast of southeast Texas in a town called Nederland. Being so near Louisiana, Cajun cuisine played a tremendous role in my upbringing. Gumbo is in my veins. My favorite bowl is from a nearly 80-year-old restaurant still standing today. If I walked into the restaurant now at 36 years old, I would see many of the same things I saw when I was six. They have a tank with fish right up front, and their walls are adorned with all sorts of sea creature replicas. Dining there was a delight, and the gumbo delicious. Their gumbo roux is dark, and in Cajun cooking, roux is king. Roux takes time and a ton of stirring, so much stirring you’ve got to love it. But this gumbo is seasoned with just enough heat and spice that my nose runs a little every single time. They plate it with rice, which is my preferred gumbo base, and I savor each bite.

Of gumbo’s origin story, I’ve heard that it began as an easy way for folks to cook a delicious dinner with whatever they had in their kitchen. It consists of onion, bell pepper and celery (what is colloquially known as the Holy Trinity of Cajun cooking). You can throw in whatever meat you’d like — chicken and sausage or a seafood medley. Put any bowl in front of me, and I’ll try it.

For me, gumbo tastes like home. And as someone with mixed ethnic heritage — a little bit of everything thrown in — gumbo feels like kin.

a pair of running shoes — Pexels: Aman Jakhar

QUESTION #2: REVEAL

We’ve all got quirky proclivities and out-of-the-way interests. So what are yours? What so-called “nonspiritual” activity (or activities) do you love engaging in, which also help you find essential spiritual renewal?

There are about six miles of running trails that wind throughout my neighborhood. Mostly shaded, they weave through trees and near ponds in the area. Every few days, I’ll lace up my running shoes and take off. I have to watch for snakes as they enjoy sunning themselves on the asphalt, and I’ve run through spider webs more times than I can count, but barring slithering or webbed obstacles, I’m fond of losing myself in the rhythm of inhales, exhales and footfalls.

Most of my work is cerebral. I exert a ton of mental and cognitive labor trying to connect the dots among ideas and concepts, and as a writer, I spend more time searching for the right words to articulate the connections I’ve made to readers. I love my work, but it is a very disembodied process. I’m always thinking. I also tend to wrestle with an anxiety disorder that disrupts my breathing and embodied living. With anxiety, thinking becomes more thinking. If I’m not careful, life becomes less of an incarnate experience where I use my hands and feet and more of a chess game that I play in my head.

Running helps me remember my creaturely capabilities and limits. It is a reminder that my flesh matters. My worries have often stolen my breath from me. When lost in thought, I forget that how I move in the world matters. I will likely never run a marathon as I have no interest in training. But running is a spiritual practice that helps my brain and body remember the cyclical, rhythmic nature of life.

QUESTION #3: CONFESS

Every superhero has a weakness. Every human too. We’re just good at faking it. But who are we kidding? We’re broken and in this thing together. So what’s your kryptonite, and how do you hide it?

My survival response enters hyperdrive the moment I sense conflict. I think this is normal. I’m sure others experience the same rush to action. I begin analyzing the situation, asking myself, “What is the conflict? What is the crux of the issue? Who is the person who will be the most unyielding? What can I do about it?” And something within me makes me come up with and begin executing a plan.

I don’t particularly love conflict as I grew up in a very confrontational and volatile home, but I’ve lost count of the number of times people have told me I am good with conflict and in crisis. If I’m putting it all out on the table, I don’t think I’m good at conflict. I think I’m really good at abandoning myself, which isn’t good at all. I’ll deploy fawning behaviors to try to calm the bully or the most unyielding. I’ll also overextend myself to please or put at ease all those who are experiencing distress and turmoil because of the conflict. On the outside, I’m active. It looks like I know exactly what to do the moment it needs to be done. I seem to pick up the right cues and employ the right action, but I’ve done it all at the expense of myself.

My greatest weakness is crossing my own boundaries and losing myself in an attempt to love my neighbor. And while I’m sure many are grateful for what I’ve done for them in previous crises, I think that more often than not, I’ve really taught them what it looks like to abandon yourself and make it look righteous and good. Honoring my human limitations takes tremendous intentionality; learning to accept my boundaries is my long obedience in the same direction.

QUESTION #4: FIRE UP

Tell us about your toil. How are you investing your professional time right now? What’s your current obsession? And why should it be ours?

As a writer, artist and author, much of my work is oriented on breathing life just as life has been breathed into me. Through the things I create, I hope to foster a sense of shalom, especially as we all have to navigate hardship and suffering in the world. And the Hebrew understanding of shalom is not only peace but also restoration, healing and wholeness. I also hope to find others who are doing the same. I want to join a community of people who are helping the world grow, bloom and expand.

My debut book, “Othered,” and the stories I share within have played an influential role in shaping what I do today. In “Othered,” I bear some scars I’ve endured, and unfortunately, some of my wounds were inflicted by Christian kin whom I loved and trusted. I believe that the people of God — the church — are meant to bring beauty and flourishing to a wounded world. So in “Othered,” I name the danger and damage of letting harmful power dynamics metastasize in the church.

Through my experience and education, I’ve learned that our wounds or trauma can tempt us to misuse power too. To self-protect, some people become fixated on control such that it damages others. In “Othered” and in all the work I do today, I hope to encourage people not to become the hammer that has hurt us, but that instead, we commit our hands to healing the hurt around us in the ways we are able.

QUESTION #5: BOOST

Cashiers, CEOs, contractors, or customer service reps, we all need grace flowing into us and back out into the world. How does the Holy Spirit invigorate your work? And how do you know it’s God when it happens?

When I was writing the manuscript for “Othered,” I followed a regular writing rhythm. At times, it was difficult to keep to the rhythm because I would write myself into a corner and have to find a way out. Other times, the pieces would fall into place without effort, and I couldn’t hold back. Something in my brain would click. In those moments, I couldn’t not write. To not write the words would have been similar to trying to hold my breath. In writing the words that needed to be written or doing the work I was excited to do, I felt like I was coming home more to myself — becoming the person I was created to be.

I tend to think that’s when I notably recognize God’s presence in my life — when I feel like the work of my head, heart and hands align and I feel like I’ve become more of who I am. I won’t speak for everyone, but I know there were seasons of my life when I felt like so much of my working life was spent trying to convince people of something, sharing a particular message so that others would pay attention to what I was doing and buy into whatever I was working on. In our very capitalist society, many of us feel the need to propagate our wares and sell, sell, sell, hoping we make enough to survive.

But I want to shift, when I can, from survival to thriving. Survival is really the work of existing, but thriving is the work of becoming. And through becoming, I’m no longer in bondage, trying to propagate a particular message or convince people to follow me. In the work of becoming, I get to invite people into what I’m doing. And it’s really cool when people accept the invitation and invite me into their work as well.

QUESTION #6: inspire

Scripture and tradition beckon us into the rich and varied habits that open our hearts to the presence of God. So let us in. Which spiritual practice is working best for you right now?

Every morning, once my day has started, I journal three pages, completing what Julia Cameron calls “morning pages.” Writing these morning pages is a method of free-flow journaling. There is no agenda except to write whatever comes to mind. I usually end up writing things that aren’t for public consumption. I’ll write about something that seems unfixable and makes me terribly sad. I’ll write about the things that stiffen my back and piss me off. I’ll write about the boring stuff that takes up too much space in my brain — the to-do lists, the people who need emails and the meetings I can’t forget.

Human beings are storied people. There are pieces of my story that I feel free to write about and share publicly with readers. But there are also pieces of my story that I’m still privately working through — things I hold on my own or with a smaller group of people. My journals are the spaces where I’m able to share about the hurts that haunt me — the ones I haven’t yet named. These things tend to be the ghosts and goblins that prevent me from being effective in my work.

Morning pages have become a spiritual practice of prayer and rest. When I write these things down — whatever those things happen to be on any given day — I’m not really asking God to fix them or make them go away. These pages are my psalms. They are a way I can share my life with God, and they are a way I can invite God to hold my story with me.

QUESTION #7: FOCUS

Looking backward, considering the full sweep of your unique faith journey and all you encountered along the way, what top three resources stand out to you? What changed the game and changed your heart? What radically altered your life? What changed your reality?

The resources most pivotal in my faith journey tend to be those with a bit of bite and spice but also creative flare. They are the ones who aren’t afraid to look at and name the raw parts of the human experience.

Walter Brueggemann’s book “The Prophetic Imagination” has heavily influenced how I would love to write as well as the sort of person I want to become. He names the danger of empire or the royal consciousness and how influential and powerful people, including those in the church, attempt to tame God. His words granted me permission to live into my otherness.

Makoto Fujimura’s book “Art + Faith” is one that gave me language to see the healing work of an artist. His words — how he weaves an understanding of trauma in with the work of artistry — are ones that strengthened my belief in the healing power of art. It’s one I often recommend so that others can also see how they were created to also be creators.

Madeleine L’Engle’s book “Walking on Water” is one that has helped shift my thoughts on good art, worship and the job of the artist. And she specifically speaks to the damage of bad art, which is art that tends to pander by propagating a particular message. For L’Engle, spirituality and the work of creation aren’t separate processes but intertwined realities. And she encourages folks to create work that can’t easily be boxed or defined. Her work has taught me to welcome my own weirdness and to welcome the strange wonder of the created world around me.

We all have things we cling to to survive (or even thrive) in tough times — times like these! Name one resource you’re savoring and/or finding indispensable in this current season, and tell us what it’s doing for you.

The number one most indispensable resource I currently use is the Voxer app, which might sound silly, but hear me out.

Much of the creative process and my work as a writer is done in isolation. It’s hard to hold a conversation and try to write a book or draft an essay. To write or work on an illustration, I often walk into the solitude of my office, pop my earbuds in, and stay at my desk for hours. This is often a daily process. With a project like a book, I do this for months at a time. As you can imagine, it can become terribly lonely, even for an introvert like myself.

The Voxer app is an app on my phone that I use to communicate with other creatives and writer friends, many of whom do not live near me or even in the same time zone as I do. Voxer gives us the opportunity to stay connected with one another and share ideas or our work as we’re able. But I like the Voxer app because the voice messaging feature is a wonder. I am able to hear my friends’ voices and that adds color to our communication. Through their tone of voice, I can hear affirmation or validation. If we share something funny or delightful with one another, it is a gift to be able to hear their laughter.

Voxer is certainly no substitute for in-person interaction, but in a world learning to relate and interact after the disruption of COVID, Voxer certainly helps me stay connected with people I love who also understand the layers of my creative work and spiritual practices.

QUESTION #8: dream

God is continually stirring new things in each of us. So give us the scoop! What’s beginning to stir in you but not yet fully awakened? What can we expect from you in the future?

As I was writing “Othered,” in which I discuss the prevalence and pervasiveness of spiritual abuse and religious trauma in the church, I began to understand that spiritual abuse, othering and dehumanization in the church is a result of spiritual malformation. We have many normative practices within the church that keep us fractured — internally fractured, relationally fractured and fractured in our connection to creation.

For instance, in our desire to comfort another person, we might use spiritually bypassing language like, “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle.” Upfront, this might seem helpful, but language like this tends to further alienate people from God. If you’ve heard this (or something like it) in a moment of hardship or suffering, you know how terribly unhelpful it is. Christian platitudes have become so normative, and I argue that not only are they unhelpful, but they also contribute to the further rupturing of the church.

To that end, I enrolled in seminary last year and began a master’s program in spiritual formation. My work moving forward has been to study the history of the church and name the instances where rupturing faith practices began taking root. Ultimately, I am envisioning a future wherein we are able to adopt more holistic practices. I advocate for a more contemplative and mindful faith that refuses to be reactionary in a polarizing world. I want to encourage others to use language that doesn’t perpetuate us vs. them dynamics. To that end, I’m already preparing a follow-up book to “Othered” — one that speaks to fostering a culture of holistic formative practices and a spacious spirituality.

Researchers estimate that around 40 million people have stopped going to church over the last 25 years. And according to Barna Research Group, painful experiences in the local church context are the top-cited reason for leaving among unchurched adults.

Is religious hurt inevitable? Is church-related trauma inescapable?

Perhaps, to an extent — until Jesus comes back and restores all things. But surely, we can move toward change. Toward healing.

This week, let’s pray for those who have suffered hurt in the church (including ourselves if applicable). Let’s ask God for practical ways we, as individuals and as a body, can identify and eradicate harmful spiritual behaviors and work toward true healing.

Jenai Auman