Category: trust | Page 2 | Spiritual Abuse Blogs

Harmed In The United Pentecostal Church Part 2

In two groups, I asked people to share how they were harmed during their time in the United Pentecostal Church. People were also able to respond who exited a different group. I received enough responses to make at least four blogs. These are used by permission and are anonymous. Some responses have been edited for spelling and punctuation. All the ones included in this part were from the UPCI or other Oneness Pentecostal group. Each person is separated between using and not using quotations. After reading this series of posts, perhaps many will better understand some of what can happen to people in abusive churches. See Part One.

What harmed me was being told I couldn’t seek help for mental illness and I couldn’t take medicine for mental illness because it could cause me to be possessed by a demon. And because I didn’t get help with the spiritual and emotional abuse for all of those years I ended up suffering from social anxiety self harm and depression. Thankfully I go to a church now that when I talked to my pastor about my problems she got me in to see a wonderful therapist and the taking of medicine for my mental health issues is okay with the Lutheran church I go to and I am slowly getting better and putting my life back together because I now go to a very loving and caring church that I thank God every day for.

Here are a few of the ways I was harmed:
Financially: My pastor told me not to leave his church in a very small, rural town. I could not find a decent-paying job… or even one with benefits. AND I paid tithes and offerings (15% as taught) on the $5-6/hr I made… and felt guilty for not giving more.

Psychologically: I was taught to distrust myself, to distrust my instincts and to think that anything bad that happened was my own fault. I learned shame and humiliation. I learned not to love my self or take care of myself because those things were said to be selfish and self-centered.

Spiritually: I learned to fear. To fear the future and to fear God in a negative way. I learned that God didn’t have my best interests in mind — that he wasn’t there to take care of me but to be served without question no matter the personal loss… and that he would not only expect, but demand that we face those losses as a way to test our faith and trust in him.

Physically: The stress I was under from the lies and the judgmentalism took a physical toll on me. It affected my health and my strength and endurance as well.

Socially: I was led to believe I should trust people in the UPC above all others and to distrust those who were not UPC. I lost friends and disconnected from family. I missed time I could have spent with Grandpa before he died, and missed good years with other members of my extended family and with real friends I had and could have had outside of the facade of the church I attended.

And… because of the rules of my church, because the pastor had to approve (and usually arrange) any relationships, I never married, never had kids, and never shared many other experiences that would have been positive and which most people would consider normal. I lost hopes and dreams and connections with others, ways to share with and interact with humanity.

I was raised UPC from the time I was eight years old until I left when I was 33.
I feel like I have major trust issues. Once you figure out everything you have been taught your whole life is a lie and you were duped and used as a door mat for nothing, it’s heart wrenching. You can’t look at people the same way for fear of being naive and taken advantage of once again.
I am cynical and critical of all churches and pastors. I never again want to open my heart up to a pastor or their family in case they are not who they claim to be.
I am leery of church comradery because people who say they are your church “family” will most likely leave you high and dry if you stop attending at any point down the road.
Just to name a few things… I’m sure I could think of more if I gave it more time!

I can completely relate to the music stuff! I was there from 9-1 every Sunday morning to sing and from 4-9 every Sunday PM. Plus any extra practices. Any thank you? Nope. Just people ragging on you if you didn’t show up because you were out of town or something! How much family time was lost while I was “giving my talent to God” every week for 12 years!?! Ugh. The illusion of my responsibility to music is a big reason why I stayed in so long.

Before attending the UPC, I loved going to church so much. I’d go to most any church regardless of denomination. I’d walk if it was nearby, I’d take a church bus. (These when young) I knew Jesus would be there, I knew He loved me unconditionally. The UPC took that simple trust and crushed it with their man-made rules and extensive fear mongering. Now, maybe I’m not good enough for Jesus to really love me, maybe I’ll lose my salvation. I have issues with trusting church leadership, I want to go to church, but don’t want my children’s simple belief in God and Jesus to be tarnished.

Second, and I’ve worked through this at this point, when we left I had no friends. I lost them, was shunned. I was so wrapped up in having the UPC as my identity, that leaving left me lost and confused as to who I was, as a person and my identity in Christ. I had to relearn how to interact with every day normal people, how to be “me” and interact in society.

Straight to the point….we felt like puppets on a string and the pastor’s wife was an evil bitch!!!! Sorry for the profanity but that’s the best words for describing her!

We were in the UPC for over 25 years and I believe it was the hypocrisy that we saw over those years that led to our leaving. I have a very hard time trusting those in the ministry because of seeing things preached against and knowing that they were doing those same things. They were always shaming people into giving more money to the church than they could afford, while those that begged for the money never seemed to go without. One day I actually started to study the UPC doctrine and opened my eyes to see it all starting to unravel. While there are some good people in the UPC the basic doctrine is flawed.

Lately, the word “robbed” comes to mind. Every time I hear the beautiful words of the gospel and how little of the Bible we were taught, and yet we were told there is no place else you can go from here, everywhere else is wrong and hell bound. I cut my daughters hair and was dismissed as someone unworthy to serve. I was treated from then on as if I wore the scarlet letter on my chest. In my mind, the group is too fault ridden to exist. It is not doctrinally sound and they only love each other.

Where do I start? I was born and raised in the UPC although my mother was not “in” church, she took us faithfully every Sunday because she did not want the shaming and guilt from my grandmother. My mom needed my grandmothers help with watching my brother and I when she was between marriages. I was pulled from both sides and in and out of church through my teen years. When I married, my husband and I got back in church and stayed for 25 years I think. He became a minister and pastor. I began to doubt the doctrine and would research and write papers on the subjects to give to my husband. I did not like raising my teen age kids in such a fragile glass house and we were shunned by the church people from parties and etc. In the end my husband ran off with a “worldly” woman and left me high and dry.
So my damages are:

1. Lack of trust in the ministry.
2. Takes me awhile to trust people or their statements of love.
3. PTSD -anxiety and panic attacks.
4. Had to learn that it was okay to love myself….still a work in progress.
5. I still study the Word for myself and do not take a man’s word.
6. I am learning that God loves me and gives me grace and mercy and is not mean and harsh and full of hate and damnation.
7. I will never step back into a UPC ever again.
8. I’m glad I found the church I attend now which we call a Body of Believers. They have accepted me and helped with my healing and forgiving process. They also leave the giving amounts up to me to decide.

Mental health issues such as anxiety and depression stemming from various teachings and indoctrination….Severe perfectionism from being taught God loves us only when we measure up. Ten years of abusive marriage because of false ideas of submission. Fear and panic attacks triggered by opinions of others since that was a key piece in the group.

My time was consumed with activity and nonstop obligations. I feel I overlooked my children’s childhood and have multiple regrets over it. Also I feel like I don’t know what to believe, who to trust, even if I could trust myself for such a long time.

I was in for about 9 years.

Part Three
Part Four
Part Five

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“Let the Lord Fight your Battles”

I believe I had this idea to some extent growing up. It was definitely reinforced in the unhealthy churches I was in. We even sang a song about it. I was furious when I learned my former pastor’s son was molesting boys in the church. We’d been told often that if we had any concerns about the pastor and his family or anything they were doing we should “hold our peace and let the Lord fight our battles” (just shut up and pray) and God would take care of anything that was REALLY wrong (ie not just our evil imaginations, because if we thought anything negative about the pastor or his family it was surely us who were wrong).

Well, where was God? If he was to fight our battles, if we were right to just obey the pastor and pray, then how could he have not fought for those boys? Everything I’d been taught about trusting God, it seemed, was wrong.

I think back to my teens and young adult years when so many songs were about being God’s hands and feet in missions and ministry. The concept was that God is a spirit and Jesus is no longer on earth. It’s his people who now do his work. How in the world is staying quiet and just praying EVER considered OK when kids are being abused or other things are wrong?

Mom used to say that she might have faith, but she wouldn’t stand in the middle of the road and pray not to be hit by a car. But that’s what we did every day, staying quiet and expecting God to do for us what we should have had the decent common sense to do for ourselves.

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Working With Other Abuse Victims

As I continue my walk with God after leaving the abusive church environment, I learn that I am definitely not alone. There are other groups and people who share common experiences despite differences in church doctrine and teaching.

Some of the people I meet are supportive. We become friends and share much information, seeing the kindred spirit that draws us together. We know our faith must be in Jesus, not just in a man or organization. This is a blessing for me and helps me hold fast the profession of faith, even when I don’t have a church home.

Has every former member I met been happy to see me? Sadly, no. This is especially true with two guys I actually invited to my former church. They saw through the smoke and mirrors and got out of Dodge before I did, and to this day refused all attempts to reach them. In their cases, the road to healing may have required a clean and total break from the past, including anyone from the previous church. I wish them well and pray peace will come to them.

Other former members in different groups can get dicey at times. One group I was active in for almost three years was fervent in reporting corruption in the organized church; I was a regular blogger and contributor to much of their success. It seemed like this was a good project, and we were marching forward like Christian soldiers against a corrupt system.

This particular group morphed into something I couldn’t support anymore and I had to leave. The group’s founder quit for personal reasons, possibly burnout. The people who succeeded him injected politics in the discussion, something I wished not to do. I felt the political discussions were divisive and detracted from the original vision of helping others see there is more to God than just inside churches.

The final straw happened following the presidential election in 2016. I hung on for a couple months following President Trump’s inauguration, but the political divide (I am a Republican, most of the other former church members were Democrats.) drove a wedge between us. I once again had to leave a group I invested time and energy in.

As we meet others who left abusive groups, we need to be careful not to inject elements from our past experiences that could cause division or open wounds in others. We especially need to be careful not to become what we left behind.

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Can a Pastor Offer Destructive Advice?

In my years of being in abusive churches, I was led to trust the input and advice of the “Man of God.” Any major life decision – be it college, getting married, or professional – we were to go to the pastor for counsel.

I spent most of my military career in Norfolk, Virginia. Norfolk was and still is a major Navy town, brimming with active duty and veterans. On several occasions when I was up for transfer orders, I did what any faithful member would do. I went to the pastor for counsel and direction. At this particular time, I had 11 years in the Navy and a chief at my command suggested I apply for a commissioning program. The pastor had a different recommendation: NO.

Why? He felt at that time if I pursued a commission that I would be more involved with command duties and less time with “the ministry.” Eventually he eased up his position on members joining the officer ranks, but I wonder if it was because officers could stay in the military longer plus make more money. This came too late for me, though.

I took the pastor’s advice over that of the chief. End result: I retired from the Navy after 20 years, but my advancement in rank stalled at E-6. While I am proud of my service, I can’t help but wonder if my career would have gone further had I listened to the chief.

The lesson I learned from this was that pastors may mean well, but they aren’t the subject matter experts in every aspect of a person’s life. This left me wondering what might have been professionally.

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A Dark Place After Spiritual Abuse

The following was taken from an older conversation in one of our private support groups. The initial post, along with the responses, have been shared with permission. The initial post and a follow-up are between the asterisks, followed by responses. Names have been omitted. Responses that were longer have been placed in quotes. I have added my own brief thoughts at the end.

There are those who don’t believe there is such a thing as spiritual abuse and some ridicule the thought, thinking it is about things like people being upset over not being allowed to hold some position or that they didn’t like a decision made by a pastor. Some feel people are simply bitter and just need to ‘get over it’ and move on. These individuals are clueless and ignorant as to the types of damage that being in an unhealthy church can cause. One of the most difficult things some grapple with is their trust and belief in God. Pastors, the very ones who should be encouraging and helping people in their relationship with God, have instead helped to destroy the faith of some and caused others to question it. Listen to ‘J’ as he shares the pain and aftermath of dealing with his unhealthy church experience.

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Possible trigger warning, I have been in a dark place recently but this week it has sort of come to a head.

Today in church, part of the sermon touched on Deuteronomy 31:6, about not being afraid because “he will never leave you or forsake you.”

However, inside a deep pit of empty despair formed because, simply put, that was not true. Having done my absolute best to follow him led me to years of abuse, loneliness, virtual slavery. All I can see there was that I was abandoned. I was in a place where I was abused and demeaned in his name, and was not helped. How can I count on him if I was torn apart in his name and was not helped? How can I trust when three years later things that were stolen in his name are not yet restored? How can I trust him ever again when I was abandoned? How can I trust when I see promises in his word turned on their head, when the exact opposite of what was promised occurs? Trust him to do what, exactly? He claims to be closer than a brother but I don’t ever even hear or feel him. I don’t see him doing anything that would merit trust. How can I claim relationship with someone who never even bothers to show up, especially when the one they claim to love is so utterly screwed over?

I tried to talk to someone I trust about this, how I feel and what I think and observe. Instead, I got met with a combination of fear and disdain. “How could you think like that?!” Even getting angry that I would not unquestioningly obey if God asked me to do it. I would in fact question.

I don’t see a reason to trust. Instead, I see promises that are empty; I see a past where I was left alone in the darkness.

…One of the hard points in all of this is, there is nothing I can truly point to and say “God absolutely did this.”

I came to my senses in the cult when the leaders royally screwed up and got a number of us wondering. It was us, together, who decided they were full of it, and us together who protected one another as we left. So by us supporting each other, and the leaders being way to ham-fisted for their own good is what sparked that.

In that, and in other things, I see other people helping me. I see lessons that I learned and applied to get me to better places. I don’t see supernatural help.

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Below are some of the responses to J.

L: All I can say is I know how you feel. I have had all the same questions and feelings. After many years, I was able to look back and I was actually able to see Him during those times. It was still hard to trust because I was thinking “Well, so You were there. But I didn’t feel You there. And that will probably happen again before my life is over. Fat lot of good it will do.” But then I had to weigh trusting vs not trusting and I felt trusting was better. It was healing. And freeing. I’m still on the journey. Jesus also felt forsaken when He said “My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken me.” I think God understands all these things. I think He understands all your feelings and I think He accepts them. I think part of the journey is embracing that it’s okay to feel like you do and you have a legitimate reason for feeling all of it. Here a hug and a pat on the back. You’re okay.

M: You’re describing a place that is very familiar to me, too, and that I don’t know what to do with either. I’ve gotten to a point where people’s reactions, either the one you describe or the prideful, “not Me! *I’ve* never been *there*. God is sooo good!” are both based in fear- either fear that it could happen to them or fear because they don’t want to admit that it has, even to themselves.

J: Yeah, I can see that fear. I don’t want to spark fear in others, but I DO want others to understand that it is not all sunshine and roses.

K: J, I feel the exact same way. I have lost my trust in God to protect or be with me and I am hanging onto a tiny bit of faith by a fraying thread. I prayed so many, many times at my old church for God to intervene or show me if I should leave the church, if what they were teaching was wrong. Instead, all I ever experienced was being told to submit, to trust the pastor’s discernment and not my own, and the threat that I would risk God’s judgment if I left. So much mental and spiritual abuse happened. I feel very betrayed. If my child asked me to intervene while she was being abused or led astray, I would. Why didn’t He?

I also question God’s protection and goodness after watching several wonderful people die horrible deaths, including a little 11-year-old girl. That girl was my daughter’s best friend and it crushed my daughter when she died. Her innocent faith was crushed when God did not answer her prayers to heal her friend. She was convinced He would. If I could heal someone that was dying, I would. Why didn’t he?

People credit God when someone is healed or avoids a tragedy. But according to that logic, wouldn’t that also mean we should credit Him when someone is not healed, when a family drowns in a hurricane, or when someone dies in a crash? If I had the power to prevent these tragedies, I would. Why didn’t He?

I have very rarely shared these doubts because almost everyone would chastise me. But they are not going away and I can’t get by with platitudes like “God’s ways are not our ways”, or “God uses all things for our good” or “Praise God anyway.” Platitudes do not help when the One who could have intervened, protected and healed people chose not to do so.

You are not alone with your doubts and hurts and it is OK to acknowledge them. Please keep talking here without fear of judgment.

J: I hear you. It frustrates me to no end when people say God took away their headache when they prayed (or something like that), yet others go through horrendous fates praying desperately for the help the bible promises yet are left alone.

J (written several weeks later): This hasn’t gone away. In fact, it gets worse as more and more things go badly and as no evidence of help comes forth. I honestly don’t see my prayers having any impact. My fear isn’t that there is no god. My fear is that he is malevolent, or at least indifferent.

K: I hear you and I empathize with you. I feel ripped up inside because I have these same thoughts and feelings. I am sorry you are experiencing the same.

M: I can’t think that if there is a God he would be malevolent. He may view things very differently than we do, he may not be as actively involved in ways that we were taught, but that wouldn’t make him malevolent. I’m not sure it would even make him indifferent, just with a very, very different perspective than we have.

I wonder if there is a God, why God would allow things he does, how to protect myself from this upside down, crazy life if there isn’t a God who will protect me. I’ve struggled with this for 17 years. I prayed and begged God in 2000 not to let me be thrown out of a church because the pastor falsely accused me of lusting after the pastor. Fasted for days. Did everything I could to repent of things I’d never done. And I found another church and ran to it. And at that church the pastor’s wife was in an accident. The pastor started inviting young women to his house to visit his wife, who was bedridden. The men would lay hands on me. I was so freaked out, so terrified that I would be falsely accused again. And I was trying to hide what had happened from my parents and others, trying to keep a ‘good witness’. So I moved to the next state and went back to college. I spent thousands before discovering that I couldn’t get the certificate I wanted without quitting work and going to school full time. So I dropped out. I hoped that at the church I was in at the time that I would finally get married, that I’d finally have the respect of the pastor, that I’d have a church. The pastor died. People in the church picked at me. A man stalked me. The new pastor was cruel. And I stayed, still hoping.

So I get it. Way too well. If those things hadn’t happened I would still be attending a UPC, blissfully ignorant of how far from faith in God I actually was, holding on to terribly false ideas about God and about what faith in him looked like. I was begging God to let me stay but was to the point that I was taking risks with the thought that maybe I’d just die and get out of the situation.

God didn’t answer my prayers. But in a weird way he did. Not that I can trust him yet. It’s frightening to trust an all powerful being who not only doesn’t do what you ask, but is so unpredictable that he doesn’t even do what you think he wants done, doesn’t even help you to do what you think he’s commanded. And it’s terrifying to think that we’re in his hands. It’s easier to think maybe he’s indifferent or even nonexistent than all that. It sure seems like it would be a safer, more sensible world at times. And yet I know that through all of it, better things happened by far than what I begged for — I got out. I left and I’m glad of it, and without dying to be rid of them.

It’s a slow, slow process. Friends like the one you mentioned don’t help. They just make me mad.

I picked up a book at Goodwill tonight. Not my typical read. It’s titled No One Cries the Wrong Way. It’s about grief, and the title itself is comforting somehow.

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It is impossible to know how much damage has been caused at spiritually abusive churches led by unhealthy pastors and other leaders. Thousands upon thousands of people have been harmed and there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight. Some have great difficulty separating the distorted view of God instilled in them by these churches and what the Bible shows. As they try to recover and heal from their experiences, they may still view things through their former church teachings. There are things each of us have been taught that are not found within the Bible. Expecting that God will keep all believers from harm is one of those.

As to the question of ‘why does God allow this or that to happen,’ I liked how they touched on this in the movie, Love Comes Softly.

One of the central characters is a man who lost his wife and he is raising his young daughter. He made an arrangement with a woman whose husband died and they had a marriage of convenience. He needed someone to help him raise his daughter and she needed a place to stay for the winter until she could catch a wagon to take her home to the East. The scene I am quoting from happens after the man’s barn burns down.

The woman he has married asks him if he prayed for these bad things to happen and says, “I just don’t understand why the God that you pray to would let such unthinkable things happen to decent people.”

He replied, “Missy (his daughter) could fall down and hurt herself even if I’m walking right there beside her. That doesn’t mean that I allowed it to happen. She knows her father’s unconditional love. I’ll pick her up and I’ll carry her. I’ll try to heal her. I’ll cry when she cries. And I’ll rejoice when she is well. You know all the moments of my life, God has been right there beside me. The truth of God’s love is not that he allows bad things to happen, but it’s His promise that He’ll be there with us when they do.”

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