Category: recovery | Page 15 | Spiritual Abuse Blogs

Reading the Bible after it was used to control and abuse you

I’ve been out of the Bible-based high-control group for 5 years, but still can’t read the Bible. Other than random verses I see online daily. I talk (mutter) to God daily, and think about Him a lot throughout each day, and desire intimacy with Him, and worship Him daily, and want nothing more than to experience more of His love and presence. But I am paralyzed when it comes to His Word.

To a Christian who hasn’t been severely spiritually abused this might sound crazy and garner the “well, you can’t be a real Christian then” response. But to someone who has been through something similar to what I have, they will probably understand that the Bible can trigger our PTSD. The Bible was misinterpreted, and used as a weapon. Used to make us miserable. Used to create deep fear, shame, guilt. Scriptures forced down our throat daily. Not to mention that the only translation we were allowed to read was the version translated by the sect founder! (Alarm bells ringing.)

The Bible was used to create such deep pain that I was depressed from age 7. Scriptures were taken out of context constantly. We couldn’t socialize with anyone “outside” the sect because of some obscure passage in Timothy. We couldn’t wear pants because of some Old Testament scripture where the verse next to it talks about not wearing clothing of mixed fibers. (I remember telling my Dad, post-sect, that I would remove my jeans – and change into a skirt – before leaving the house if he would remove his sweater of mixed fibers!)

I know that the Bible is a love letter from God to His earthly creation (I have done a lot of research on its legitimacy). But my body and mind still react in fear when I see all-too-familiar verses. After I had been “out” for about 3 years I was determined to read the Bible like a good little girl and so I printed the Bible out on A4 pages so that I would not be triggered as much because it wouldn’t look like a bound book. I still went into cognitive-mode (as opposed to heart-mode) and numbness. And I read it like a text book, with no feeling. I was still in have-to mode.

Very recently I decided to listen to the audio Bible so that I wouldn’t be triggered by reading. This was my second attempt at overcoming my fears, indifference, and disinterest. It was better than the first attempt. I felt like my heart was engaged and I was actually interested in the scriptures for the first time. However, I listened to the audio Bible once, then not again for the last 4 weeks. So, there is still a blockage.

I have asked God to remove the blockage. That the scriptures will be brand new to me, as if I have never seen them before. I am actually jealous of atheists, Muslims, etc who convert to Christianity and read the Bible for the first time. I’d love for the Bible to have no trauma associated with it. No baggage. No fear. The audio Bble I listened to was The Message translation. I chose that translation because I wanted the scriptures to sound very different from what I was used to so that they wouldn’t trigger PTSD. It helped a lot. Most of the verses sounded very different from the translation I was raised with (which was similar to KJV).

It’s still a journey to disconnect from the past. Our body and mind remembers. I have a measure of peace that God understands (although I do have the odd day where I think I’m not saved because I have indifference towards the Bible. My scrupulosity kicks in.) I crave connection with Him. And I am angry that the Bible has been damaged for me. It will pass as more healing comes. God works healing miracles every day.

I tend to stay away from Christian circles because I feel guilty – the vast majority of Christians don’t understand my predicament and look in horror if I mention that I don’t want to read the Bible. It’s too difficult to explain. I rest in the fact that true love comes from overflow, not obligation. The Father wants children, not slaves.

(This was difficult to write, and to post, because I am ashamed and feel that I will be judged. Especially as most ex-cultists seem to have no problem reading the Bible. But hopefully this helps someone know that they are not alone.)

********
Shop at our Amazon store! As an Amazon Influencer, this website earns from qualifying purchases.

Struggles with faith and doubt

When I first left my former church, I thought I wouldn’t struggle with doubts or faith. I never thought I’d come to a point of wondering whether God was real or cared about me. I was wrong, and here are some reasons why:

When I left, I hid some of my feelings, my doubts and fears. I was busy proving to myself that I was still a Christian, and I was very good at it for awhile. The problem with that is that I could only maintain the facade for a time, not forever. Eventually the fears, doubts, and questions came out, and because I’d hidden them from myself for so long (well before I left), they kind of came out in a big jumbled mess, making them perhaps more difficult to deal with.
When I left, I kept thinking that I would get answers, find resolution, be healed, and see new success. None of that happened, and since people had promised God would do these for me or promised these to me, I blamed God when they didn’t happen. I became disillusioned… and that disillusionment hit around the same time as the facade fell.
After leaving, I was told too often by both myself and others to just get over it, to move on… to BE as though nothing had happened that changed my life, my thoughts, my beliefs. Walking out of that church had the effect on me that dropping a bomb on a small town might have to the survivors–I lost friends; family dynamics changed; the culture, beliefs, and perspectives that shaped a good deal of my life were suddenly in tatters; the place I’d considered safest was now seen as most dangerous–the world was turned on it’s head. “Get over it” and “move on” are absolutely ridiculous expectations in such cases, no matter how much we want to do just that.
I suffered from ‘shell shock’–I’d hear similar things to what I’d come to recognize as danger and ‘duck for cover’ so to speak. Most people did not recognize the signs of this and didn’t want to help or admit that this might be a problem… it was perhaps as difficult for them as it was for me to admit that someone could get PTSD from a church. And they and I both thought that exposure to a similar but more positive environment would ‘fix’ the problem. It didn’t.

Unreasonable expectations are behind all of these. It wasn’t until I stopped expecting things to go a certain way that I started regaining real hope. And yes, you read that right. I actually find myself having more hope since I stopped having these expectations. Not hope that everything will be OK, not hope that things will be ‘fixed’… this is a different kind of hope, or maybe more of a peace, than Christians I’ve known seem to talk about. Maybe more of an acceptance. This is what happened. This is what is. And though I have no idea what will be, I can be OK with that. And I think God is, too.

********
Shop at our Amazon store! As an Amazon Influencer, this website earns from qualifying purchases.

Does God crush you like a rose to make perfume?

Someone wrote to me recently about songs that ask God to “crush me,” “wreck me,” and “consume me,” saying,

If God can abuse his bride, yet tell her that it is for her good, of course a husband can do that to his. And both blame her for not trusting.

This reminded me of the popular teaching that just as the sweetest perfume comes out of crushed roses, God wants to crush us like a rose so He can make perfume like that. (<– Several links there.)

As if somehow our lives would become more pleasing to God if He crushed us.

And apparently, from the songs she was referencing, that’s a pretty popular notion.

Read the full untangling of this teaching at Here’s the Joy . . .

********
Shop at our Amazon store! As an Amazon Influencer, this website earns from qualifying purchases.

When it’s hard to pray

Sometimes, when I share my blog posts, I receive comments that I find heartbreaking, such as “I’ve tried praying, but I can’t feel God’s presence or sense He is answering… I don’t know what I’m doing wrong… I’ve given up.”

I know that these are sincere, open-hearted, genuine people, but very sadly, some of them have received judgment and even condemnation when they’ve dared to express themselves honestly about this issue. They fear they’ll be accused of not having enough faith, or of harbouring some secret, unconfessed sin or be told to fast more or “try harder.” Sometimes, other well-meaning souls will inform them that they shouldn’t try to “feel” God’s presence at all, but to content themselves with an intellectual knowledge of His existence.

However, none of these responses takes into consideration the context in which these individuals find themselves: each of them has suffered tremendous spiritual abuse at the hands of a toxic Cult or a religious High Control Group. Imagine if you’re speaking to someone who has been sexually abused; wouldn’t it be understandable if they then go on to struggle with intimacy?

In a similar way, many victims of spiritual abuse find it incredibly difficult to pray, because so many things that are related to prayer are now emotional and intellectual triggers, leading to confusion, soured memories and great pain…. Initially, we close our hearts in order to protect them, but sometimes we end up shutting them up altogether…

Many cults equate the group with God himself, as they presume to speak for him and dictate every detail of people’s lives. This means that even things like God’s name or the question of who to pray to can be very difficult for those who have left. People who have stayed in the group may accuse us of turning our backs on our Creator, and we want to assure them that this is NOT the case, but untangling who God really is can take time and isn’t easy.

I do not claim to have all the answers to these difficult questions; it’s taken me a long time to pen these words, as I have no solution to offer, no magic words or silver bullet.

However, what I can say is that after traumatic experiences and great disappointment, our spirituality often changes, maturing and becoming less dogmatic and closed minded. Our heart is stretched to breaking point, now able to stand in compassion alongside other victims of abuse.

In fact, none of us has the right to stand up like a Pharisee and tell other people how to pray or what they’re doing wrong. When someone shares with us that they’re having trouble praying, we don’t need to “fix” them; it’s better just to listen with grace and mercy, not “helpful tips,” advice or criticism.

If the opportunity seems right, other people may be encouraged to hear of our own spiritual journey towards Christ. It’s probable that we’ve all experienced times of dryness in prayer, when we’ve had to press on despite not feeling God’s presence or peace. As Jesus walked through the desert for 40 days, we also follow a similar path at certain points in our lives.

Having the courage to say “I find prayer hard” is an enormous step. We need to know the encouragement of other people on the same journey in order to stay sane. Christianity is a “team sport,” in that we were not designed to sit alone, struggling in silence.

********
Shop at our Amazon store! As an Amazon Influencer, this website earns from qualifying purchases.

Healing

The pain is real. The journey to healing is real. It’s long and at times feels like it is never-ending. But every year when I look back over the previous year I see the progress that has been made – rebuilding my life. It’s been almost six years since I left. Which sounds like a long time, but it isn’t really when I consider that I was born into the sect and left when I was 33 years old. I’ll have been out of that toxic church system for half of my life when I turn 67 years of age!! That sounds awful and depressing.

I’m currently 39 years old. Looking at it this way makes me realize that it is okay that I still have a long way to go on my healing journey. I’ve been out six years, but I was in for 33 years (plus the 9 months in the womb!). I’ve been free from extreme control for only 15% of my life. Wow. In that 33 years I wasted approximately 9,000 hours sitting listening to mind-boggling theological discussions spoken in Shakespearean English – that I never understood. None of it brought me close to God.

Last night my new husband and I went to a get-together with his work colleagues. It is at events like these that I realize that I still feel separate. This feeling lessens with each passing year, but it is still there. It gives me social anxiety because growing up in isolation from “worldly” people means that I didn’t learn normal social skills or the ability to relate to and interact with people from all walks of life. It has been scary and tiring to learn these skills in my thirties. I look normal on the outside now, and can put on a good front, but underneath I still feel odd, and different, and like I don’t belong.

It is to be expected because for 33 years of my life I was told, and therefore believed, that I was part of a small group of elite Christians who were God’s chosen people. The only people to whom He came; the only ones with the “truth;” the only ones worthy of true fellowship; the only ones who had interpreted the Bible correctly. All other Christians and non-Christians were misled by Satan, and were to be feared. Physical separation had to be maintained at all costs so that we were not infected by their evil (yes, the words “infected” and “evil” were actually used). We were not allowed to dress like the world, watch TV like the world, watch movies like the world, listen to the radio like the world, have a library card like the world, live in a condo building like the world, be a part of a professional association like the world, etc… I used to stand at my bedroom window when I was about ten years old and look out at the dangerous world with fear and wonder what it was like to be in Satan’s clutches and wonder why God chose us for such special “light” and “revelation.” But deep, deep, down in my core I was jealous of the freedom that “worldlies” had.

Therefore, there is no wonder that I still struggle with socializing with people I don’t know, especially on mass. No wonder I escape to the washroom every hour or so just so I can breathe deeply and collect myself. To add to the awkward feeling is the fact that I have never watched The Simpsons, haven’t heard most of the popular music that was released more than six years ago, never went to University, have never owned a TV – so I sometimes look ignorant because I lack basic knowledge about these everyday things.

Healing takes time. It takes gaining self-esteem, establishing self-concept, establishing a new world view, finding a new community, making new friends, counting what was lost, processing the anger, trying new things, experimenting with clothes and hobbies, binge-watching TV shows from the 90’s on NetFlix, grieving what was lost, grieving the years that were wasted, grieving your old identity that wasn’t really you, and grieving for the family members who are still in a deep state of cognitive dissonance and brainwashing. It takes creating a new identity. It takes finding the real person beneath all the layers of conditioning and slavery – fear, guilt, shame, must-do, have-to. It takes courage to seek a relationship with God, when all you knew was rituals and rules. When He was very scary and full of disgust.

Healing can’t be rushed. It’s a process. Respect it. Honor it. The path is different for everyone. There is hope – peace and joy can be found on the journey. Celebrate the work-in-progress You.

********
Shop at our Amazon store! As an Amazon Influencer, this website earns from qualifying purchases.