Those of us who've spent more time than we care to admit it around religi-anity are familiar with the story of the Apostle Paul. Probably a Hellenic Jew, he had a strong background persecuting -- i.e., killing -- Christians -- which all the more shocked first century Christians when he converted and became one. Christian churches often use the story of Paul, an aggressive non-believer, as an example of how "anyone can become a Christian," even one fervently opposed to Christians and their teaching, such as he was in his early years.
As he says about himself, in Acts 22: "4I persecuted the followers of this Way to their death, arresting both men and women and throwing them into prison..." And later in the same passage, "'Lord,' I replied, 'these men know that I went from one synagogue to another to imprison and beat those who believe in you. 20And when the blood of your martyr Stephen was shed, I stood there giving my approval and guarding the clothes of those who were killing him.' "
For our purposes here, though, there's something more interesting about the Paul story. How the frustrations he espouses in his later life are really textbook PTSD hallmarks: from killing Christians.
15I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. 16And if I do what I do not want to do, I agree that the law is good. 17As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. 18I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. 19For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. 20"
(The foregoing passages are from Romans 7.) Paul pitches this as a battle between good and evil, between sin and God; but we can just as easily see this as the characteristics of PTSD that Paul could not shake, even though he had left his former life as a killer of Christians, and reconciled himself to God.
How many combat veterans with PTSD sit in the wreckage of ruined family celebrations, and wonder the same things? To have the intention to experience one thing with their loved ones, but end up being blindsided by feelings and reactions they can't control? And who end up feeling terribly ashamed for how things turned out, when they really meant for them to be so very different?
Many veterans with PTSD "solve" this dilemma by "taking themselves out of the mix," either figuratively or literally, by sequestering themselves "off in their bunkers" away from family and friends, mainly out of a desire to protect their loved ones from one more disaster at their hands, and to avoid the all-too-familiar triggers. Unfortunately, quality of life is lost somewhere along the way, and trigger-avoidance only goes to behavior control, not finally lessening the symptoms or reducing the overall sum of what's there to be triggered.
Seems that current suffering veterans, with or without specifically religious leanings, may have an antecedent of their own in none other than the Apostle Paul.
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Editor's note: More than a hat tip to Pat, whose insight this really was...
