Sometimes 'PTSD' Can Be Turned into 'PTG'

Stand-up comedian George Carlin died in 2008, but some of his monologues have amazing staying power. His frequent use of profanity in his commentaries turned off some of his listeners, but he had a way of looking at the ordinary and providing extraordinary insights through humor. 

One routine I recall was about the psychological and emotional damage many soldiers have endured due to wartime experiences. Carlin observed that curiously over the years discussing the malady has become more complex, both its diagnosis and the terminology used to describe it.

 

During World War I, soldiers returning from battle often suffered from “Shell Shock” – a condition summed up in two words of one syllable each. Then came World War II, with combatants dealing with similar issues, except it was then termed “Battle Fatigue.” Still two words, but both containing two syllables. 

 

Since the Vietnam War, however, the situation has risen to new levels of sophistication, as its new name would suggest: “Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder” (PTSD). As Carlin noted, it now consists of four words and eight syllables. It’s also being used to define other forms of trauma – such as car accidents, acts of terrorism, witnessing acts of violence, first-responders dealing with the aftermath of horrific emergencies, and natural disasters.

 

It wasn’t Carlin’s intent, nor is it mine, to minimize the dreadful impact of PTSD. My father served in World War II, was wounded twice, and I suspect he suffered from PTSD, judging from the nights he would cry out in his sleep because of nightmares. And I have a good friend who has founded an amazing ministry devoted to serving veterans dealing with the effects of PTSD, having experienced it firsthand himself.

 

But recently I heard someone speak of a different possible outcome for those experiencing trauma and severe trials of one kind or another. It’s called PTG – Post-Traumatic Growth.

 

Have you ever gone through an extremely difficult time – overwhelming challenges at work; dire financial problems; a frightening health diagnosis, or family crisis – that seemed more than you could bear? At the time those circumstances might have seemed hopeless, but weeks or months, maybe years later, they proved to be significant for your personal growth? 

Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn was a Nobel Prize-winning Russian writer and dissident who endured the horrors of the Soviet prison system. In his book, The Gulag Archipelago, he wrote, “Bless you prison, bless you for being in my life. For there, lying upon the rotting prison straw, I came to realize that the object of life is not prosperity as we are made to believe, but the maturity of the human soul.” 

Along with being able to raise global awareness of the great political repression in the then-Soviet Union, Solzhenitsyn also came to faith in Jesus Christ. We could say his years of personal trauma were turned into post-traumatic growth.

 

We can find no better example of this than the apostle Paul. In a letter to followers of Jesus in ancient Corinth, Paul wrote about the many hardships he suffered in seeking to advance the Gospel, including imprisonments and floggings:

“…Five times I received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one. Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea…. I have been in danger from rivers…bandits…my own countrymen …. I have labored and toiled and have often gone without sleep; I have known hunger and thirst and have often gone without food; I have been cold and naked” (2 Corinthians 11:23-27).

 

And we think we’ve had it rough! But this same person who knew adversity in so many shapes and forms could also write, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called to His purpose” (Romans 8:28).

 

Many of us have heard this verse. Maybe so often that it rolls right off our tongues. But do we really believe it? “All things”? “For good”? Well, that’s what it says – what God says.

 

Our pastor recently observed that some people willingly – and intentionally – invite pain in the anticipation of good outcomes, perhaps their own version of post-traumatic growth. Who are these crazy folks? Marathon runners. Or if you prefer, triathletes. Not only do they go through many months of grueling training and preparation, but also the competitive events themselves, whether it’s enduring mile after mile of a 26-mile marathon or the combined swimming, biking and running phases of the triathlon.

 

Applying this to spiritual growth, we’d be wise to heed Solzhenitsyn’s words, “the object of life is not prosperity as we are made to believe, but the maturity of the human soul.” 

 

This life, in terms of eternity, passes like the blink of an eye. For that reason, it’s important to maintain our focus on what lies ahead. As Paul wrote, “For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 8:38-39).

 

Trusting that God truly has a purpose behind our trials, tribulations and traumas, we can use them to turn PTSD into PTG.

Remembering Sacrifices Many of Us Can’t Even Imagine

My father fought on several fronts during World War II, both in Europe and northern Africa. He was wounded twice, for which he received two Purple Hearts, along with a Bronze Star for valor and meritorious service. However, contrary to what theatrical films from the late 1940s and ‘50s seemed to indicate, he didn’t find war a time for forming fond memories. As a friend of mine who served in Vietnam has often said, “John Wayne lied.”

How do I know how my father felt about his military service? First of all, Dad never talked about his wartime experiences. They weren’t things he wanted to spend reminiscing. And second, many times I heard my dad wake up screaming in the middle of the night from some nightmare, probably war-related.

Those days were before the term Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) was created to describe the lingering, devastating effects of taking part in combat. During World War I, they used the term, “shell shock.” “Battle fatigue” was the term utilized during and after the second World War. No matter which term is used, those of us who have never fought in a war can’t begin to understand what it must have been like for those who did.

 

Since 1868, our nation has observed Memorial Day – formerly known as Decoration Day – to honor U.S. military personnel who have died during wartime service. On this federal holiday, many people visit cemeteries and memorials, paying respects and decorating graves to honor and mourn those who gave their lives to protect freedoms and values embraced by our nation.

 

Thankfully, my father wasn’t among those who lost their lives during World War II. I wouldn’t be here if he had. Nonetheless, what he saw, heard and felt in combat left indelible scars on his mind, as has been the case for so many of our veterans who returned home. Some came back with visible physical injuries, but virtually all brought unseen mental and emotional wounds that were slow to heal, if at all.

So, Memorial Day’s a worthy tribute to those who sacrificed their lives on many battlegrounds, from the Civil War onward. Even though most of us wish there was no such thing as war, wishing does not do away with the tragic events that have transpired almost from the start of human history. We dare not forget the high price our valiant soldiers have paid.

 

What if there were a “memorial day” for people in the Bible? We could trace back to Abel, who gave a more acceptable sacrifice of worship to God, only to be killed by his brother, Cain, in a heinous act of sibling rivalry (recounted in Genesis 4:2-16).

 

Many of us know the story of Samson, a very flawed individual whom God gifted with great strength. His weakness for women brought him many consequences. But despite being blinded, Judges 15 tells us he was able to kill many enemy Philistines by destroying their pagan temple – with them inside.

 

Through the centuries, prophets have been killed for faithfully standing up and speaking out for the Lord. In the New Testament we learn that many of Jesus’ closest followers, including John the Baptist, Peter and James, lost their lives for proclaiming Him as the Messiah, the Son of God. Paul once persecuted and participated in the killing of Christians as a zealous Pharisee. He was transformed by a personal encounter with Jesus Christ, became a leader of the early Church, and was executed for the “crime” of preaching salvation grace through faith in Christ alone. 

 

The list could go on, but Christianity does observe one “memorial day,” in which we remember the greatest, most momentous sacrifice of all – the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. We call it Good Friday. As Romans 5:8 declares, “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

 

This fulfilled what Jesus had told Nicodemus, a Pharisee and member of the Jewish ruling council: “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life” (John 3:16). Elsewhere, He also said, “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45).

 

This Memorial Day we pause to remember the countless thousands who willingly served and gave their lives on battlefields all around the world, hoping to preserve the rights and freedoms we hold dear. But let’s also remember – not just for one day, but every day – the One who died to set us from the penalty of sin and rebellion against God: “For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 6:23).

Scars Can Be Badges of Honor, Rather Than Marks of Despair

For some reason I’ve been thinking about scars. They’re not a common conversation topic, but we all have them – whether they’re visible or not. What kind do you have? 

Even though I haven’t had a “hard life,” I’ve managed to accumulate my share of scars. On both hands, behind my index fingers, I have nearly identical scars. I remember “earning” one many years ago when my right hand scraped the sharp edge of a metal door as I carried something out of a retail store. I have no recollection, however, of where the other one came from.

I’m not a “sickly” person, but have had a number of surgeries during my lifetime, and some have helped to expand my scar collection. I have the vertical “zipper” from my open-heart surgery more than 13 years ago. (One of the first things people who have undergone such procedures hear in recovery is, “Welcome to the zipper club!”) I have a small scar from having a torn meniscus repaired on my left knee, and “souvenirs” from a few other surgical procedures. I could have auditioned for the role of “Scar” in “The Lion King,” but I didn’t have the “lion eyes” they were looking for.

You might also bear marks from past operations. Even if you don’t, undoubtedly you carry other types of scars that hearken to various life experiences, maybe even from early childhood: A banged-up knee from a playground outing; an injury sustained while competing in a sport; a cut incurred during a carpentry project, or even stretch marks from significant weight loss, or a pregnancy. 

Many scars can’t be seen with our eyes: Harsh, insensitive words still resonating in our memories. Household conflicts hard for our young minds to understand. Abuse – physical or verbal – suffered through unhealthy relationships. Disappointments and failures we won’t forget.

A whole segment of people carry psychological and emotional scars classified as PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder): Veterans who fought in various wars; first responders to horrendous events like 9/11 or fatal traffic accidents; law enforcement officers forced to use lethal force. 

By definition, physical scars are marks left where fibrous connective tissue has developed as wounds, burns or sores were healing. Scarring is a natural part of the healing process, mentally and emotionally, as well as physically. The question is, what do we do with our scars? Even if they serve as reminders of difficulties from our past, they don’t need to define us.

A surgical scar, for instance, often serves as visible proof of not just surviving, but overcoming some type of physical pain or struggle. A mark remains, but we’re still here. What about invisible scars of emotional pain? They remain as memories, but needn’t shape our future.

Recently I heard a praise song in which the vocalist sang he was “thankful for the scars.” This reminds me of Scripture passages that speak of how adversity can prove to be a growing experience. For instance, “…we rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope” (Romans 5:3-4).

Similarly, the apostle James offered these words of admonition: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything” (James 1:2-4).

Romans 8:28 reminds us, “that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” Not all, but some of those “things” leave scars, even when we can discern how the Lord has used them for our good.

When I think of positive effect scars can provide, what stands out foremost are those Jesus Christ carried from the cross. John 20 tells about Jesus showing them to Thomas as proof of His resurrection; those scars remain as an eternal memorial to what He has done for us all: “and He Himself bore our sins in His body on the cross, so that we might die to sin and live to righteousness; for by His wounds you were healed“ (1 Peter 2:24). 

Yes, even though we might have disliked the processes that brought them to us, we can truly be thankful for the scars.

Comforting Others With the Comfort We’ve Received

One of the recurring questions we hear when we consider life’s realities concerns pain and suffering. Why do bad things happen to good people? Why is there so much suffering in the world? Countless books have been written on the subject, suggesting many possible answers. But the problem remains.

I certainly don’t have any definitive answers or solutions, but I think we find one of the reasons at the opening of one of the apostle Paul’s New Testament letters. He wrote: 

“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows” (2 Corinthians 1:3-5).

The passage goes on to explain how we can both share in one another’s sufferings and in the comfort we experience as we go through them. We dare not underestimate the importance and power of being able to comfort others with the comfort we have received while going through similar trials. 

A year after undergoing open-heart surgery in 2006, when I returned to the hospital to celebrate my “anniversary,” someone asked if I would consider becoming a “cardiac volunteer.” I would visit with patients who recently had also undergone open-heart surgery. I agreed to do so, and for about five years I dedicated one evening a week talking with folks who had gone through procedures similar to mine. 

I couldn’t take away their pain, but was able to share from my own experience, my recuperation process, and by my own example, offer encouragement that better days were ahead for them. Many of them – and family members who were there for my visits – expressed how reassuring it was to hear my perspectives and suggestions for their recovery.

Recently I heard about an even more vivid example of what it means to “comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.” I have a friend, a veteran of the Vietnam war, who heads an organization dedicated to serving military veterans suffering from PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder), as well as physical wounds from combat, especially those returning from Afghanistan, Iraq, and other battle fronts in the Middle East.

Having suffered severe wounds himself, along with the psychological trauma of combat, my friend can identify with the many struggles and challenges returning veterans are confronting. His organization provides a place where these men and women can gather for rest, recreation, nice accommodations and good meals – along with opportunities to interact with people who can offer the hope and comfort that come from a genuine, growing relationship with Jesus Christ.

My friend told about one veteran who had lost an arm and both legs from an IED (Improvised Explosive Device) explosion in the Middle East. Most of us can’t begin to imagine what that must be like. But during a weekend retreat, which includes a variety of competitions and even hunting, the recovering veteran was able to shoot his first pheasant. The joy he showed was palpable.

Many veterans, even those who have not suffered physical wounds, return home in despair, struggling to reacclimate themselves to civilian life. The suicide rate among this group of heroic people is staggering. So the power of receiving comfort from those who themselves have been comforted is immeasurable.

We might not be able to relate to this particular form of pain, but we all have endured suffering in one way or another. Sometimes the problems were eventually resolved; but often the aftermath continues. Either way, we have the capacity – and privilege – of being able to draw from the comfort God has provided to us and extending it to others. 

Even if the problem can’t be “fixed,” as is usually the case, we can’t put a price on the value of having someone willing to say and demonstrate, “I care” or “I understand.” 

Remembering Those Who Served – Including the Living

These flags proudly remember the
sacrifices of those who served in battle,
and the many who gave their lives.

Today marks the observance of another Memorial Day, one of the most fitting holidays in the calendar year. War is a horror that has plagued humankind since the start of history, but that shouldn’t detract from our honoring and remembering those who gave their lives so that we could enjoy the freedoms we so readily take for granted.

I believe it should also be a day in which we think of those who may not have lost their lives in combat, but suffered serious injuries, both physical and emotional.

Two friends, both veterans of the Vietnam conflict, have wrestled for many years with a common wartime consequence, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). This is a malady that most of us who have never served during wartime cannot fully understand or imagine. Yet its toll on countless thousands has been very real, even debilitating.

Today, my friends are devoting much of their time and energy to assisting others who, like themselves, survived combat physically, but have suffered a grave toll emotionally and mentally. The suicide rate among veterans who have suffered PTSD in combat is alarming; others find themselves homeless, unable to function properly upon returning to civilian life.

My father served in World War II; I remember many nights during my childhood when he would awaken, screaming. He never talked of his wartime experiences, but I know the nightmares were a byproduct of what this twice-wounded, two Purple Heart and one Bronze Star recipient had seen, heard and felt on the battlefields of Europe and Northern Africa. We knew little, if anything, about PTSD back then.

I remember how shamefully Vietnam vets were treated in the late 1960s and early 1970s when they returned home. They had gone to serve their country, doing what they thought was right, even though many at home questioned America’s wisdom in its involvement. Their noble, yet largely unappreciated, service reminded me of something Jesus said to His followers: “Greater love has no man than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends” (John 15:13).

Thousands of U.S. soldiers did just that, lying lifeless on East Asian fields of conflict. Others lay down their normal lives, returning to American soil physically, but shattered just the same, not the people mentally or emotionally they once had been. Even if they didn’t think it in so many words, their sacrificial service was truly an act of love.

But as we commemorate the sacrifices of so many, in far too many wars, I can’t help but think of an even greater sacrifice, that of the Lord Jesus Christ. Going to the cross to die for the sins of mankind, paying an incomprehensible price on our behalf, Jesus epitomized that “greater love.” As Romans 5:8 declares, “But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”

This Memorial Day, please take a few moments to remember those who gave so much for us. And especially think of Jesus, the One who gave more than we could ever imagine – so that we could receive far more than we could ever deserve.

Mercy for Those Serving in the Military

“Extreme Makeover: Home Edition” featured an Army staff sergeant seriously disabled in the 2009 shootings at Fort Hood, Texas. It was heartwarming – as the show always is – to watch a couple coping with misfortune get a new house and take the first step in a new life.

The show suggested a broader issue, however. Last week, an article in USA Today reported 16 percent of homeless adults nationally in a one-night survey were homeless veterans. More than 75,000 veterans were calling the streets or temporary shelters “home” that night. Other reports have documented less than stellar health care being provided for vets that return from combat zones.

Such dismal treatment is a travesty. I’m not a “hawk,” and have never served in the military – I had a high draft number and was attending college during the Vietnam Conflict’s height – but I think men and women who serve our country are deserving of the best care possible following deployment in hostile territory.

As I was growing up, John Wayne and Glenn Ford movies made war seem like fun; camaraderie shared by soldiers united to defeat the enemy. But I knew better. My dad, who served more than 22 years in the Army, had been wounded twice during battles in World War II and received two Purple Hearts (although he never displayed them).

Dad never discussed the war. If you asked, he offered only brief, non-specific answers or changed the subject. But I remember nights he would awaken from his sleep screaming or gasping. I never learned what nightmares had alarmed him so.

He was proud to have served his country in the military, but talk of war was off limits – “verboten,” as Germans would say.

We often read about discharged soldiers suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. We first started hearing about PTSD during the Vietnam era. A friend of mine has founded a non-profit organization to assist those who, like himself, suffer these lingering affects.

Frankly, I can’t understand how anyone returns from war zones without PTSD. Being forced to live – and fight – in alien climates and cultures; never knowing for certain who the enemy might be; seeing friends and fellow soldiers killed or severely maimed in fire fights or by IEDs; enduring long months, even years, of separation from family and friends.

In Luke 10:7, Jesus says, “the worker deserves his wages.” He’s not speaking of soldiers, but the principle is applicable to those serving in the military.

Later in the New Testament, the apostle Paul uses a military metaphor to exhort his young disciple, Timothy: “Endure hardship with us like a good soldier of Christ Jesus. No one serving as a soldier gets involved in civilian affairs – he wants to please his commanding officer” (2 Timothy 2:3-4).

Service in the military may be voluntary – and I’m thankful for all who volunteer to do so. But none of them goes with the expectation of being killed, losing limbs, or becoming physically or psychologically disabled. Those coming back damaged in any way should receive the very best of treatment. They offered their all for us; can’t we do the same for them?