Trauma and Grace

Suffering and Faith

　　On November 26, 2025, a five-alarm fire broke out in seven buildings at Wang Fuk Court in Tai Po. As of the time I am writing this, at least 168 people have perished, with victims spanning all age groups from infants to the elderly. Thousands of residents were forced to evacuate their homes, requiring temporary shelter in emergency housing or with relatives and friends. This devastating fire has created an incurable collective trauma: Afterward, many have experienced insomnia, anxiety, and heart palpitations due to trauma. Those who lost loved ones, survivors, frontline rescue workers, and citizens alike face the risk of varying degrees of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). These circumstances compel Hong Kong churches to reflect deeply and ask ourselves: In this city scarred by such tragedy, how do we speak of God? How can we share the gospel? How can we walk with those who are traumatized?

　　When confronted with suffering, many Christians explore these questions through the lens of theodicy. Traditional theodicy often centres on the question of “why”: If God is omnipotent (capable of preventing evils) and perfectly good (willing to prevent evils), why do evils persist in the world? Why do good people suffer while the wicked prosper? Do calamities imply that God is either not omnipotent or not perfectly good? Does God use suffering as a means of “education”?

　　For Christians who engage in serious reflection, traditional theodicy may not adequately address the suffering they encounter, nor the frequent natural and man-made disasters. For those who have been traumatized, their faith often feels shattered into pieces or utterly consumed by fire; many doctrines once taken for granted seem inadequate to the realities before them. They must reflect anew amidst the ruins and ashes, rebuilding their faith from the ground up. Therefore, in recent years, some theologians have attempted to construct a “trauma theology” to address the trauma experienced by individuals in the midst of suffering. They point out that “trauma” differs significantly from ordinary “suffering”: Trauma signifies not merely heightened pain, but rather the complete shattering and fragmentation of the entire person—body, mind, emotions, and spirit—when confronted with an overwhelming catastrophe or violence.

Trauma and Traumatic Event

　　Serene Jones is a leading figure in the field of trauma theology. She is an American Protestant theologian, and her significant works include Calvin and the Rhetoric of Piety, Trauma and Grace: Theology in a Ruptured World, and her memoir Call It Grace: Finding Meaning in a Fractured World.

　　In Trauma and Grace, Jones begins by examining the definition of the ancient Greek word for “trauma” (τραῦμα): Trauma is “an injury inflicted upon the body by an act of violence,” and to be traumatized is “to be slashed or struck down by a hostile external force that threatens to destroy you” (12). ^* She then moves on to discuss the perspectives of two clinical psychologists specializing in trauma research, Bessel van der Kolk and Judith Herman: “A traumatic event is one in which a person or persons perceives themselves or others as threatened by an external force that seeks to annihilate them and against which they are unable to resist and which overwhelms their capacity to cope” (13).

　　According to their research, Jones identifies several features of traumatic events. First, traumatic events are distinguishable in their order of magnitude. They are not events that simply make one feel unhappy or uncomfortable or even profoundly sad, but are events in which one experiences the threat of annihilation and impending death. Second, such an event becomes traumatic for a person only when it is subjectively experienced as such. In other words, it has to be “perceived” or “imagined” as life-threatening for it to be experienced as traumatic. Third, this “perception” of potential annihilation is usually not a fictionally induced psychological state, but is grounded in a real event of some sort. It is embodied in lived relationships and provoked by concrete occurrences, such as child abuse, loss of a hoped-for child, genocide, flood, fire, etc. Fourth, events can be traumatic for those who are not their immediate victims but nearby witnesses. The marks left upon the mind and heart of the witness can be as emotionally devastating as the physical wounds that were avoided. Fifth, violent events can befall both individuals and communities. This requires moving back and forth between single-person and collective events when thinking about the relation between trauma and grace. It is remarkable how many traumatic features they share. For instance, just like a person, a country can lose its memory; or just like a city, a person can try to set up impenetrable borders in response to fear of an assaulting invasion. Sixth, traumatic events are not necessarily limited to one-time occurrences of cataclysmic proportions; they can also be repeated low-intensity events, such as domestic abuse or hostile workplace environments. Their corrosive effects are more likely to go uninterrupted for years. Seventh, traumatic events are “overwhelming.” They overwhelm our capacity to cope and exceed our capacity to make intelligible sense of them. They are experienced as inescapable and unmanageable (13-15).

　　In short, the impact of traumatic events is both far-reaching and profound. Victims experience a threat of annihilation and utter powerlessness to resist, feeling as though they are on the brink of life and death. Any pre-established sense of security and safe relationships dissolve in an instant. A traumatized person experiences a loss of a sense of self, a breakdown in normal knowing and feeling, and a paralyzing lack of agency in the threat of the harm suffered. Moreover, traumatic memories often intrude into the present through flashbacks, somatization, and sudden emotional outbursts, blurring the boundaries between past and present and leaving individuals in a prolonged state of heightened vigilance or numbness. These post-traumatic phenomena affect not only the body and mind but also profoundly impact spirituality: Individuals may rationally affirm God’s existence while losing deep-seated trust and the sense of being loved; they often end up feeling abandoned by God. These conditions may persist in the long-term and even worsen over time.

Trauma, Sin, and Grace

　　Beyond discussing the nature and characteristics of trauma, Jones also explores its relationship with sin and grace. She views trauma as an experience of brokenness and of banishment from the resources of language, imagination, and creativity. While seeing trauma as related to sin, she refuses to reduce it to the consequence of individual wrongdoing. She suggests that sin is neither exclusively social nor individual, but a complex terrain formed simultaneously by the individual and the collective, shaped by both structural and personal agency (101). In fact, sin is something experienced by individuals (sin is personal) and yet is also corporately enacted and lived (sin is collective) (103). Sin is both social and personal, and we are both its perpetrators and its victims (153).

　　Trauma, being related to sin, is also related to grace. Jones believes that sin and grace are essential features of our fallen humanity (103). Grace is precious. When discussing grace, she points out the shortcomings of the traditional view of grace. She describes it as follows: God created the world, and out of His gracious love, He sent Jesus Christ to come into the world in flesh, to save humanity, which had fallen into sin. Ultimately, grace conquers sin. This grace is a gift without having been earned, bought, or won (152-153). Thus, humanity can expect the world to be broken and also grace to come.

　　Jones never questioned the traditional sin-grace narrative. But, as she went deeper into the study of traumatic violence, she saw the limitations of this story. She found that the story bred an almost instinctual optimism about change that is hard to sustain: If one believes in God, one will obtain what one asks for; social structures can be mended by justice-seeking policies; life can become more ordered by getting one’s head on straight (154-155).

Trauma and Grace

　　Jones holds the view that this optimism, while helpful to some extent, fails to account for the harsh fact that the vast majority of trauma survivors reach the end of their lives still caught in its terrifying grip, with some unable to recover at all. Through trauma theory and her own experiences, Jones sees the profound and lasting effects of violence. From the biblical narrative, she perceives that God’s grace can touch the whole person—encompassing the physical, psychological, emotional, and spiritual dimensions. She points out that the body offers up visceral testimony. Tales of harm are dictated into bodily text. For instance, a young person in his twenties may still be struggling with the pain of being bullied by classmates during childhood. She notes that from a place beyond, grace comes toward us, traverses our boundaries, and dwells within us as it gives testimony to the previously unspoken sins/traumas that occupy us, while at the same time supporting us. It is a strange, unprecedented form of embrace. In other words, when facing pain and fear while simultaneously feeling supported, one can intuitively learn to bear up under the weight of the trauma and move forward (159-160). In this two-sided experience, wounds are not magically healed but are borne. Unlike the old story of sin-grace, this double motion of loss and support physically enacts the reality of a Christian as being a sinner and a saint, not in succession but both simultaneously (160). In the fleeting spaces between breath and thought, humanity can bear the weight of traumatic loss, yet remain open to renewal and transformation. One may look forward to being led from despair into light. Thus, grace here is not an abstract truth, but God restoring, through human body, voice, soul, relationships, and rituals, the capacity to remember, trust, and love—in a profoundly concrete and temporal manner—within a world scarred by trauma.

Christians and Churches in a Suffering Society

　　Appropriating these insights to the context of the fire at Wang Fuk Court in Tai Po may help us perceive the inner anguish of those traumatized more keenly. For instance, some bereaved family members have repeatedly blamed themselves for failing to protect their loved ones; frontline firefighters undergoing counseling have reported being haunted by the persistent thought that they “didn’t act fast enough.” The images of “good parents,” “filial children,” and “brave firefighters” were violently rewritten, replaced by inner voices whispering “loser,” “incompetent,” and “the world is unreliable.”

　　For those Christians affected by the disaster, they rationally know they “must believe God is in control,” yet their hearts may be filled with unspoken doubts: “Why doesn’t God intervene?” “Does God care about human lives?” This tension represents the trauma and crisis believers face. If churches merely demand they must “have more faith” or “stop questioning God” without truly listening to their hearts, they fail to honestly confront the wounds inflicted by violence, forcing victims to deny their own experiences and feelings. Churches should deliberately make space for these stories of life’s wounds, allowing sufferers to freely repeat their stories again and again, permitting them to admit: “I’m still angry,” “I don’t know how to believe anymore.” In sermons and prayers, we should embrace the language of trauma and questions like “Why?” and the recognition that “I still hurt,” trusting that the Holy Spirit can work within these sincere lamentations—without rushing to reduce these stories into a consummated “song of triumph.” This attitude and act of listening are precisely how grace intervenes. God’s grace comes from a place beyond, traverses their boundaries, and dwells within them as it gives testimony to the previously unspoken sins/traumas that occupy them, while at the same time supports, holds, and embraces them.

　　On the public level, churches stand watch alongside citizens, urging the government to continue its independent and impartial investigation into the incident and to review the entire building oversight system. This ensures accountability is not diluted and reforms do not remain superficial. Together with citizens, churches advocate for building safety and regulatory reforms, challenging the violent macro-narrative of “ordinary citizens having no choice but to endure natural and man-made disasters” and bearing witness to a God who does not tolerate injustice. Moreover, churches experiencing social trauma must not only provide pastoral care—offering spiritual resources and companionship to the victims and residents of Tai Po, as well as all Hong Kong citizens—but also cultivate public ethics among believers through preaching and education. Only then can grace transcend mere “comfort for the soul” and tangibly break the cycle of violence that perpetuates disasters. This signifies that grace not only intervenes within the human heart but also penetrates deep into history and institutional structures.

　　All in all, the theology of “trauma and grace” reminds churches in Hong Kong that we must listen attentively to the stories of the afflicted. Together, we witness how, within these torn lives, grace breaks through the violent narratives of this world in tangible ways, enabling people to gradually relearn how to remember, trust, and love. Specifically, after the fire, churches should not merely hold a one-time prayer meeting, but should regularly remember the families of Wang Fuk Court in worship services, and continue to pray for the success of the investigation and lasting policy reforms. Church members should engage in long-term visits, listening, and companionship, rather than merely offering one-time financial or material assistance. Through all these, churches bear witness not to their own strength, but to the perseverance of the Holy Spirit: The Holy Spirit, who was present from the cross to the resurrection, today testifies to the real presence of God’s love in the charred buildings of Wang Fuk Court, on the streets of Tai Po, and throughout the streets of Hong Kong. Such a witness does not make trauma vanish instantly, yet it enables residents of Wang Fuk Court and Hong Kong citizens to know that they do not live alone. Instead, they walk alongside one another and can rely on the eternal, true God for life.

　　Indeed, we believe this because we are born of the Spirit and live by the Spirit. The Spirit’s power, like the wind, can transform human lives. Believers carry within them His ceaseless power, flowing like a mighty river. Human lives are transformed by the fire of the Spirit. Where the Spirit is present, there is warmth and light. In the mighty power of the Spirit, we witness the reality of God’s great love. Churches, too, testify to this love through the Spirit’s power.

____________________________________________

^* Numbers in brackets refers to the page references to Serene Jones, Trauma and Grace: Theology in a Ruptured World, 2nd ed. (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2019); this convention applies throughout.

Feb 2026