“SPIRITUAL abuse” is a term that crops up in the Church’s continuing debate about safeguarding. It could be defined as the use of threats of damnation or divine disfavour to compel or prohibit particular actions or beliefs. An example might be attempting exorcism of people without their consent. There was a dreadful occasion, still seared into my mind, when some over-enthusiastic ordinands tried to perform a spontaneous exorcism of a schoolfriend who was overcome by a fit of coughing — someone having decided that this was a symptom of demonic possession.

Later, as an undergraduate, I went to hear an invited speaker at a Christian Union event who named certain anxieties from which I happened to suffer as a sign of lack of faith, which would lead, ultimately, to my being rejected by God. I do not remember his exact words, but I can still see in my mind the cinema-style seating of the lecture hall, the wooden desk in front of me, the stage, and the microphone. Trauma imprints itself on the memory.

There are less dramatic forms of spiritual abuse. Pressing people to give more money than they can afford, on the grounds that God demands it, could be abusive. Groups of lay people who object to their minister’s theology and write damning letters to the Bishop, or even arrange alternative worship in the parish, are exercising spiritual abuse, setting themselves up as spiritually superior and actively undermining the person charged with the cure of souls.

It is a form of spiritual abuse when bishops pressure clergy to leave their posts with threats of withholding references, or, worse, a prolonged disciplinary process if “voluntary” consent is refused. Abuse of this kind involves a negative judgement of an individual’s faith and ministry, which creates trauma. The fallout often goes wider than the abused individual, producing fear-filled memories that can involve whole communities and, ultimately, erode faith.

There is, of course, a place for challenge. But what one person may accept as appropriate warning or rebuke another may find devastating. That said, we must not demand that those who preach, teach, or give counsel in the Church affirm only the views with which we are comfortable. For example, Christians who are conservative on issues of sexuality should not be censured in principle for preaching against same-sex love, and nor should the more liberal be for affirming it.

Scripture is full of divine threats and punishments. Whether or not the Bible should count as abusive, it certainly involves a good deal of trauma, from the expulsion from Eden to the unquenchable fires of Revelation. Yet, at its heart, is the crucified Saviour, risen from the dead, and yet still bearing the wounds of his humanity. I hope that the General Synod can bring some theology to bear as it reflects on this difficult and timely issue.