Epigenetics and recovery – Why the science and spirituality of recovery don’t have to be at odds
Trauma can feel final.
Like what happens to us is etched in stone, forever visible even when faded, like indigenous cave dwelling art.
Each stroke is like an old river bed, telling secrets of the past. The things that happen to us and to our families are a part of us, a part of our genetic make-up, and breathe death into our very lives today. This is what researchers today call epigenetics.
Epigenetics is the study of how your behaviors and environment can cause changes that affect the way your genes work, according to the National Institute of Health.1 Your family’s pattern of physical, sexual, or emotional abuse. The way you only feel worth when you are worshipping at the temple of business or money. The way you obsess over your body image.
When we look into the mirror, our souls may see our ancestors’ transgressions.
Alive and breathing in our minds and bodies. And sometimes—I’ll argue usually—we don’t even recognize this. We don’t recognize the impact of previous generations on our current lives.
So how can we honor the self when we feel trapped in a cycle of unhealthy patterns like our family members?
How can we embrace healing when doubt creeps in and it’s tough to imagine ever living free of whatever might consume us?
On the outside, it might appear hopeless that we should ever heal or become new branches, ones that come from the old roots of human brokenness and ugliness and trauma. It feels hopeless that we might ever set our monsters down. And indeed, it is hopeless—Until.
You see, there is a sweet place in all of this mess where God comes in. Ever since time began and the first candle star was lit in the sky. Ever since his prophet, Isaiah uttered the visionary words:
Out of the stump of David’s family will grow a shoot—yes, a new Branch bearing fruit from the old root.2
Out of all of our family trees can grow something incredible: new branches that bear fruit.
Have you ever seen a shoot growing up out of an old stump that’s been cut down?
A fresh, new, young green thing that’s aching towards the light?
It’s a beautiful sight. A picture of hope.
If you don’t yet believe that things can get better, that you can be this fresh, new, young, green thing, hold on. We will get there together.
