It's an ugly fact, but religious abuse is real.*
What is religious abuse? It is when, in the name of religion, a person pulls power to shame someone. That's my definition anyway.
Many people are struggling to recover from this. Some have no idea that they were abused by religion. And it can make leaving the church seem like the right thing to do, even when abuse recovery is actually what is needed.
A couple of times a year, at least, I get a client who tells about a childhood where mom and dad were tyrants in the name of the church. The parents screamed or punished them for not doing the religious rituals just right (scripture reading, church-attending, church attendance, etc). And then the parents don't apologize for their less-than-Christian behavior. They feel justified because they are standing up for what is right. To prove their point, they might call the child names, punish them, and threaten them into compliance.
This breaks my heart when I see clients struggle with this pain. It is real. It affects their feelings toward their covenants, towards the daily devotions of their faith, and toward their own worth.
I have to pause and insert that I am not without blemish here. As a mom, I was very clear that my children would all join me in a life of discipleship. But for most of them, this wasn't their vision, and they have left the gospel to take a journey of their own design. If I had it to do over again, I would listen longer, reserve judgment, talk it out, and listen some more.
Now, back to the topic at hand.
When a parent harms a child in the name of religion, they can change course. They can apologize. This would help them have a more authentic relationship with their child. They could then turn to Christ to take control of their lives, and quit trying take his place by managing the details of their child's journey.
Unfortunately, many parents don't ever see how destructive their behavior is even as their children grow up and leave. They even talk behind their backs. Where once they intended to be a stalwart disciple who leads their posterity on the path to Christ, they have now become a bitter stumbling block on that very path.
Sadly, the relationship with such parents is never as rich as it could be. Their adult kids tolerate them, or avoid them, or feel crushed by them. But they rarely enjoy them and are definitely not inspired by their example.
This puts a huge burden on kids to try to figure out why they feel so badly and what to do it. They can't talk about it with mom and dad, even if they are grown, because the parents cannot accept their children's free agency or their right to think things through for themselves. Even though such individual rights are key tenants of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
Recently, a young mom came to see me. She was tossing around questions about religion. She felt unsettled and unsure of what she was feeling or what to do about it, but something felt off about her relationship with religion.
So we discussed childhood experiences of learning the gospel at home. Among many other issues, was this: If she didn't do and say exactly what dad wanted at scripture time, she was in big trouble. And scripture time would turn into a lengthy lecture of each child's failings, even though her dad was in that very moment exhibiting far worse characteristics himself.
But of course, he never noticed his hypocrisy. I was not surprised when she told me that as an adult she experiences a traumatic reaction when she has to "discuss the scriptures" with her husband. She hasn't been able to do it for years.
Here's the thing - in behaviorism (a branch of psychology), pairing a stimulus with a response welds the two together. In other words, pairing yelling, judgment, criticism, and stress with scripture time would weld feelings of fear, worthlessness, and being trapped with the act of reading scriptures. That is why those behaviors are so abusive.
Can you see it? Can you see how agonizing it would be for someone to try to pick up scriptures to meditate and feel God's love when in their experience, that always meant pain?
As spiritual beings, we need nourishment through connection with God. But the trauma blocks the path. The pain and memories and reactions close that path off. It's like being thirsty, but knowing you can't reach for the glass of water because you'll get an electric shock. You might decide that water is bad. Or that you are bad. Or that you'll drink something else instead and that you don't need water and never will.
We do need water. It is not the water that is bad.
But some people leave the church because they think the water was the thing that was poison.
The thing is, I believe that religious abuse is a cultural and familial issue. I've never seen anything in church literature or teachings that would in ANY WAY EVER condone the behavior mentioned above. No, everything I hear across the pulpit is the be patient, to pray, to bear with, to love, to minister, to recognize agency and God's time table. Church leaders are constantly reminding us - practically begging us - to try to help people to come unto Christ in a Christlike manner, and not stoop to control, or judging, or turning into little devils.
Why does religious abuse occur, then? Why, if the church is asking its members to become like Christ, do these things happen?
As I said, I believe it is cultural and familial. I think the local sub-culture of many religions can become toxic. But not because God is toxic. Because people mix their judgment, pride, and power with their religion and some of the vulnerable ones get trampled.
It becomes a family matter too when families have hidden rules that are stiff that nobody can move or breathe. "We come from pioneer heritage and all of us are strong in the church and that's what we do." And then if someone seems to move out of line, the primal instinct of group cohesion kicks in and, with ancient tribal energy slithers out and tries to choke the variant force until it becomes extinct or returns to alignment once again.
The problem there, obviously, is that the Lord's work cannot be done in the devil's way. Extreme or harsh reactions may be well-intentioned, but they are ultimately ineffective at best and deeply hurtful at worst.
If this kind of hurt has happened to you, know that you are not alone. Work on noticing what resentments or pains you harbor. Make space to be curious about how you feel. Give yourself time to heal. Talk about it. Yes, pray about it. God is not mean or angry. He is loving. If you feel he is otherwise, be patient and keep trying. And remember this:
If anyone ever tells you how you MUST think and feel, and makes you feel that you have no choice, or that you are "bad" or cast-off, THEY are wrong, not you.
You have the right to go at your own pace and discover the beauty of spirituality as it unfolds in your life. Work for it. Experiment. Keep your heart and mind open to receive something comforting and beautiful as you let time sift out the good from the bad. You have the right to discover God through the honest journey of being you, struggling like you struggle, feeling like you feel, thinking like you think.
Abuse might tell us that it isn't safe to approach God, or church, or spirituality. But that abuse can be healed. Our parents were imperfect. We were (are) imperfect parents. But the God in heaven is a perfect parent, and in time, we can heal the relationship with him and come to find that he is far more generous, loving, patient, and truly good than we ever imagined.
*NOTE: This article addresses extreme and abusive forms of parenting that are done in the name of religion and does not include the actions of parents who are genuinely doing their best where occasional misunderstandings occur with their children.
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