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Good/Bad Christianity

As most of you know, I post some rather scathing stuff about Christianity.

There’s a few reasons for this, the most obvious being the level of abuse I went through in churches – from subtle forms of gaslighting and manipulation, through to some pretty heavy stuff. Basically, I’ve experienced the full length and breadth of what Christianity can offer.

It’s taken me many years to sift through the mess and discover my own sense of self, my place in the world, and what sort of “spirituality” works for me.

Most of my posts are directed towards the extremists and fundamentalists, who embrace an extremely toxic form of religion that has little to do with the things Jesus apparently preached.

Strangely, having participated wholeheartedly in that type of religion for many years, I actually have a high level of empathy for those in the “system”. I genuinely understand how one can get hooked into it. I appreciate the patience of friends over the years, many of whom stood back and let me go through it all, and some who confronted me with the harsh reality.

In the end, both ends of the spectrum helped me see what I was doing, but it was those who really challenged me, directly but politely, that caused the biggest shift.

Sure, I’d dig my heals in, and do the mental gymnastics needed to justify my beliefs, but eventually, straightforward logic and reason won me over, along with experiencing genuine, unconditional love, with no expectations and conditions.

So for those of you who would agree with how disgusting that form of Christianity is, but get rather disconcerted that I’m painting you all with the same brush, let me qualify things.

For me, the entirety of Christianity has become irrelevant, and that colours my opinions. But I totally appreciate those who have a “real” loving faith that reflects the nice bits of the bible and embraces doctrines that truly benefit themselves and humanity.

Here’s the thing though…

Christianity, in any form of “good” or “bad” is 100% subjective, built on traditions and assumptions, filtered through emotions in a way that builds deep levels of confirmation bias. This means that, for the “good” ones, they look for good in the theology and doctrines. They see through the lens of love.

But Christianity doesn’t make people compassionate and empathetic! Yes, that’s a bold statement, but I’ve found the reality is that the people who find Christianity as a place of deep love and acceptance, that helps them with existential angst, and provides a loving and supportive community, were already like that in the first place!

“Good” people become “good” Christians.

But Jim, there’s so many testimonies of “bad” people getting saved and turning their lives around!

So, here’s the other thing…

When you look closely at those testimonies, and if you have the chance, the personal lives of those people over longer periods of time, we find a very different picture. Nearly all embrace the most extreme forms of fundamentalism, becoming religiously obsessed, with obnoxious agendas to “get everyone saved”. They are the ones who exemplify bigotry, condemnation, exclusivity and division. They preach hell and damnation.

They have taken the things that make them “bad” and wrapped them up in Christianity. This creates a veneer of pseudo love, that other Christians (mostly fundamentalists) approve of. This means that even the “best” Christians accept them, to greater or lesser degrees, as just passionate and “on fire”.

In all my interactions with Christianity over 40 years, through a huge range of denominations, and working with countless people in many capacities, I’ve found this to be true. And yes, there are people who were originally loving and compassionate, but got caught up in “bad” things, so their testimony does have some validity. But even then, most of those in this category don’t become the religiously obsessed I’m talking about.

But wait, there’s more!!

As I mentioned, the entirety of Christian beliefs are a subjective construct, with no empirical evidence whatsoever. But that’s the case for ALL religions! The “spiritual” is something we have no evidence for, apart from anecdotal stuff, emotional experiences, visions etc. There’s nothing to actually prove that ANY religion is true, let alone THE truth. It’s all various degrees of dogma.

BUT, that’s actually OK. Because the real benefits of any religion are in what sort of person it makes you (or helps bring out in you). It’s all about metaphor and allegory, shaped by stories and legends etc. Whether they are literally true isn’t really important – it’s how we live that gives religions any credibility.

So yeah, when we embrace dogma, we are instantly on the “downward” path. Instead, as most “good” Christians do, hold your beliefs lightly, ready to change and grow. Embrace questions, fight through dogma, be open to answers from anywhere. Trust the deep love that is already in all of us (although that can be buried very deep for some).

“Good” Christians don’t care about converting you, getting people saved, and making sure they believe the correct doctrines. They just want to get on with loving people, allowing their loves to speak for themselves. They innately live with empathy and compassion, with a belief system that reflects the simple example of the unreligious aspects of Jesus.

So get out there and just live life to it’s fullest – with love, compassion and empathy, and quietly believe whatever you want.

[Note: I use “good” and “bad” as descriptors, rather than specific moral judgements on the people. In some ways, I’d prefer to use “beneficial” and “detrimental” as they have different connotations, but that’s a whoooole other topic!]

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The long term reality of religious abuse

In my book (It’s Life Jim…) I cover the subject of mental health openly but fairly lightly.

Although these days I help many work through the debilitating trauma of religious abuse and it’s impact on LGBT people, I realise I haven’t actually shared much of my own struggles – only snippets really. I was wondering why I’ve avoided it, and I realise it’s because of the stigma. I’m afraid that it will invalidate me – that if I share too much, I will have no credibility in my work with Silent Gays and just be relegated to the rubbish heap of nutters!  But life is about facing our fears, so here is my day to day reality… (pull up a comfy chair, it’s going to be a long one)

The first layer of fear was from very young, realising I didn’t fit the expectations of family and society (although I couldn’t express it as that at the time). I was ADHD but it wasn’t a “thing” back in the 60s so I was constantly being judged for being a space case and a dreamer. I couldn’t focus for long on anything, always wanting something new and getting bored far to quick and most of the other classic “symptoms”.

The next layer was hitting puberty and finding that I had zero attraction to girls and it was the boys who would send my hormones on a rampage. But it was taboo to even talk about it. So I lived a conflicted dual life in my most formative years.

The next layer was the impact of religion, enforcing the stigma that anything outside of “normal” heterosexuality was living a dreadful sin. This drove me ever onwards to find a “solution”, get healed/cured/changed/whatever – anything but live in the excruciating pain of guilt and shame caused by the religious beliefs. This became the most damaging part of my life, as I pursued every imaginable way of becoming straight.

During all this time, through two marriages, numerous different church denominations, doctrines and theologies, and endless counselling, I fell deeper into depression and suicide ideation. But I couldn’t even let anyone know that either! I was already a “loser”, if not to those around me, most certainly in my own mind – I was a failure.

Finally, I embraced the “gay conversion therapy” practices of Living Waters for 15 years, clinging to the hope that this was going to finally change me and bring the freedom I was so desperate for. But of course, it didn’t. The depression became worse and I would become crippled with anxiety, but still I had to hide it and use every ounce of strength I had to live day by day. My marriage was an absolute sham, and my wife constantly shamed me. So often I felt like I would “explode” – what exactly that meant I’m not sure, but that was the feeling.

My wife died, and I collapsed. I had lost all my reference points, I didn’t know how to process what was happening and depression and anxiety left me needing “real” counselling (not Christian pseudo counselling) and medication. Thus began the slow climb out of the pit.

Here’s the reality though that so many of us who have been through something like this suffer. We “walk with a limp”. I don’t mean that in some nice wise sounding metaphor. I mean it as a limp with a bloody open wound that although it doesn’t stop us from getting involved in, and enjoying life, does mean we are always walking in the pain and effects of our injury. We do our best, and yes, it’s unbelievable better than what we lived through, but the wounds never seem to heal.

To put that into my daily practical affairs, here’s what my own “wound” is like.

I have ADHD, so my ability to focus is limited, unless I lock on to something that absolutely captivates me and then I can’t leave it. I am impulsive, get bored quickly, forget stuff, remember the wrong things at the wrong times, and all the classic ADHD stuff. But after the meltdown when Min died, these symptoms became heaps worse. I could pretty much work around them in the past, but now they are extreme. I have regular bouts of depression still, although not crippling like they used to be, and I’m sooo thankful for that! I get anxiety attacks too. At first they were pretty bad – things like freaking out in the supermarket and bursting into tears. But I still get them. I’ll start to get nervous and tense for no reason and keep thinking I’ve forgotten something really important.

I used to be pretty good with complex technical information and did well as a technical writer and instructional designer, but another aspect of my meltdown was that as the ADHD and anxiety had increased, I lost the ability to comprehend that sort of information any more. This has been a source of incredible frustration and sadness, especially as I was a bit of a wiz with electronic music and computers. I’m also a qualified trainer/facilitator but the thought of teaching IT or Health and Safety Systems (as I used to) sends me into a panic!

As a result, I couldn’t hold a job any more. I’m pretty much a liability, never knowing one day, or even one hour to the next, what my mental state will be. Pressure, expectations, deadlines etc cause my mind to go blank, which sets off anxiety because I can’t function, and become fearful that I’ll let people down. So I went on the sickness benefit (thank you New Zealand for your wonderful social welfare system – even if it does have it’s problems).

About a year ago I decided to try getting work again and coming off the benefit and the meds. It’s been one crazy year! I ended up doing security work, simply because its pretty chilled with low expectations, but there was constant pressure for long hours at crappy pay to cover the bills. 12 hour night shifts, brain numbing day shifts standing around, which for an ADHD person is living hell! I finally had to quit a couple of months ago because I could feel my brain falling back to the point of breakdown again.

This is my life – I never know from day to day how my mind will be. I’m really good at putting on a happy face, and I’m always the funny guy, but I’m broken. I’m happy, in fact life has never been better, but my wounds are deep and I simply can’t function in life as we are supposed to.

What happens is that the mind is deeply scared from having to adopt unhealthy coping mechanisms all its life. A life of shame and guilt creates patterns of thoughts and reactions that simply don’t suddenly leave, especially as you get older and the responses are so ingrained. Things that may appear “normal” life to others trigger me into confusion and anxiety. I can start the day with the best of intentions and find that suddenly my brain has totally lost the plot and I can’t complete a single thing I’ve planned.

I can however, communicate! I can write with passion about religion and being gay. I can talk to a crowd for hours about it! I can take people on roads of self discovery. I can run workshops and seminars, and feel incredible compassion and empathy for the broken like myself. But ask me to sort out technical stuff like my website, and accounts and running a proper organisation and I grind to a halt – despite the fact that in my past life I was very capable and even had small business management qualifications.

These days I’m trying to find part time work that I can actually handle, that pays enough to cover the bills while I try to build some online work to finance my passion of helping others.

Anyway, I’ve rambled somewhat, but only in the hope that I’ve created a picture of the ongoing effects of mental illness. I’m at peace in many ways with it all however, as long as I allow myself to roll with it. If it’s a “bad” day, I try to just chill out in the knowledge that tomorrow will be different. Not always easy of course when I’m often faced with daily simple tasks, but I’m getting there, despite the niggling shame that persists for not being “normal”. Things like mindfulness meditation have been the biggest help, as well as long walks on the beach.

That’s my “limp”. That’s my life. It’s a good life, but only if I let it be a good life in the full acceptance of my limitations, embracing all that I am right now, with all its mess and unpredictability. I love who I am now. I have no regrets. I don’t live in constant shame and guilt any more. I want to live, and live that life to its fullest, which is amazing considering most of my life was spent figuring out ways to kill myself and spiralling through chronic depression and fear.

Yep, this is me, warts and all!

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5 Steps to recovery from spiritual abuse

This is a guest post by David Hayward (The Naked Pastor and The Lasting Supper)

Spiritual abuse is very real. No automatic alt text available.

1. Admit that it happened. What I find with many people who’ve experienced abuse is that they can’t believe that such a thing happened to them in the church. It is repugnant to them that an organization that boasts about grace and love can be so mean and hateful. They can’t comprehend or acknowledge that people who are in the people-helping business are actually in the people-hurting business. So, don’t minimize it by saying, “Oh, they didn’t mean to,” or, “They didn’t treat me very well,” or, “I was wounded”. You have to be able to say you were actually and really abused… that you were treated in such a way that it hurt you.

2. Recognize the symptoms. There are many symptoms of abuse, such as depression, withdrawal and isolation, low self-esteem, guilt and shame, not trusting others, nervousness and fear, emotional instability and crying, etc. Another aspect of this that I noticed when it has happened to me or notice in others is that their sense of God or the spiritual is damaged. The heavens are as brass. This is partially due to the fact that we may attribute divine power to those we trusted in the church.We might even acquire a strong distaste for anything spiritual, such as fast-forwarding spiritual music on our song lists. Also, the difficult question, “Where was God when this happened?” may arise. If we start trying to answer this question, there is no telling where we could end up. But we have to be open to the change this question invites.

3. Talk with someone. It is important to talk with someone who understands abuse, especially spiritual abuse. When one is spiritually abused, an interior fracture can take place which will manifest itself in different responses. Some simply change churches. Some leave the church. Some leave Christianity. Some leave their God and their faith. Most consistently, many people experience their spirituality “freezing”, slipping into an extended dormancy or an eternal hibernation. Like broken bones, talking with someone can help your fractured spirit set in a healthy manner. You might become a Buddhist or an atheist, but your spirit, your inner self, has healed properly so that your new spiritual life is authentic and not reactionary.

4. Write in a journal. A couple of weeks ago I recommended to someone that they begin writing in a journal. A week later we spoke and this person was amazed at how revealing it was. What this person discovered through journal writing was that there was a lot of anger coming out through their pen. This person wouldn’t have realized this without journaling. I’ve kept a journal all through my spiritual journey. It is an amazing tool which helps me understand myself and for processing all that happens to me. It is a very revelatory act. Journaling may help you acknowledge and admit the abuse, recognize the symptoms, and find hope for a way through the trauma. It usually helps your spiritual self heal faster and better.

5. Appreciate the process. Many people consider the process of recuperation and healing as a necessary but unpleasant passage to becoming whole again. In fact, this process is the wholeness. Healing is entirely possible, and the journey there is the healing process. This isn’t to say that you should stall in an endless cycle of the therapeutic process though. Did you know that doctors have their own doctors? Did you know that some regions require psychotherapists to employ their own therapists? These times of healing are rich with forgiveness, wisdom, compassion, self-awareness and confidence that would not be gleaned without it being appreciated.

 

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