Nature Disconnection and Religious Trauma

By Holly Madden

Photo by McKayla Crump on Unsplash

When I was 6 years old, we moved into the home that I would grow up in. In the backyard sat a beautiful, towering maple tree. Growing up in the city, the wild is found in varying elements of relationship to the urban environment, but this tree felt wild. Her bark was course, her roots disrupted the ground around her, her branches towered high overhead, and she moved with the wind in her own way. Here, under this majestic tree, I found God.

This tree in so many ways became my refuge. Tucked away in the corner of the yard, it felt private and safe. I could talk to my tree, cry, dance, write poetry or stories, or just sit among her many roots. I felt safe and seen under this tree.

Years later, this intimate connection I felt to this tree which grew to encompass all the beautiful wild things of this earth has been the foundation for healing and for spirituality for me. As I have been in a long season of deconstructing, I find myself always going back to this foundation that this wild world around us is full of so much beauty, diversity, healing, and hope and that every wild thing was created and loved. I have grown fascinated by religion and spirituality and how diverse belief systems can be all inside this wild, wonderful world. I also carry a passion for healing for religious trauma experiences and it’s from this work and study that I share, there is a direct connection between religious trauma and nature disconnection.

There is an underlying theme in Evangelical Christianity of fear. This fear can motivate salvation, create energy to see all people (especially those we love) in need of salvation, and this same fear causes this separation between God and the world, between Creator and created. Initially, it’s not a separation caused by dislike, it’s a separation caused by fear. But slowly, that disconnect becomes a canyon that removes our care and when we no longer care, we no longer see worth. And thus, the wild world- the oceans, the forests full of trees, the flocks of birds, the pods of whales, the rapidly disappearing numbers of the thousands of endangered species, all become worth-less, all become ours to subdue. And somehow, a world of critical inter-relationships all meant to live together in reciprocity becomes a hierarchy where humans take and take and take to elevate themselves….

until there is nothing left to take.

I remember once listening to the words of a Sunday School teacher as they recounted the Creation Story once again, but as I listened, I grew curious, did Creator God really task humankind with naming every living thing? Don’t you name things that you love? As an empath, I discovered that caring for house plants became a beautiful outlet for my empathy during seasons of setting boundaries with people. I name each and every one of my plants because I care for them deeply. In most cultures, the gift of a name is sacred. This can be an initial name given at birth or a nickname given later on. For some, we outgrow our names and the choosing of a new name is a profound experience and a marker for identity. I took my partner’s last name on our wedding day over a decade ago. For me, the choice to share that last name held deep meaning. I think of those moments our first ancestors spent naming the birds that flew overhead, the flowers that bloomed under foot, and the trees that so humbly gift breath. How much wonder and awe must have been experienced? How much curiosity felt? This world was not created to be wasted and used but to be loved. It all comes back to love. Love created diversity. Love created wildness. Love created connection.

Have you ever felt love for a tree? Have you ever hugged or held a tree? Have you ever watched a bird fly and whispered, i love you! I know it may seem silly, but the radical act of Jesus’ entire ministry was a foundation of love. And it’s that love that created the wild planet we live in (I mean, we could have been created to live on the moon….). But instead we were created on a planet with waterfalls, humpback whales, hummingbirds, sunflower fields, monarch butterfly migrations, ocean waves, sunsets, and summer thunderstorms.


Where traumatic teachings taught us to disconnection, love teaches us to reconnect. And so in deconstruction, we return to the wonder and awe and the curiosity of creation. And when we love the pine tree, we love all that is impacted by her existence, including the billions of people on this planet that rely on trees to breathe….

We care about the rising ocean levels that are harming not only the whales, but also the people living in island communities literally at risk for disappearing.

We care about the pollution that is killing the sea turtles and birds, but we also care about our own children who will someday inherit this earth with our pollution.

So may love begin to heal the wounds religion was never supposed to make on our hearts. And no matter the structure of your spirituality in the process, may you feel loved and love when you look at a sunset, walk along ocean waves, stand under the mighty branches of a tree, or watch a bird fly high across the sky.

Love is radical. Love is resistance. Love is how we heal. Planet and People.