How Religion Hurts Those who Love

Main Stream Churches can use tactics that harm just as cults do

I found in my spiritual journey that it was easy for my spirituality to be “above ground” as it were. I followed the rules, I adhered to the doctrines, I submitted to authority. I believed that this was what I needed to do to be faithful.

But in my reading of the Gospels, Jesus had issues with this kind of “faithfulness” even to the point to calling those who promoted it as “whitewashed coffins with dead bones in them.” (not a direct quote).

When I look back, I see how this faithfulness worked in the beginning. I imagined myself becoming holy, acceptable to God, on my way to perfection.

Then when life changed and things got hard with my soul filled with darkness instead of light, my joy evaportated. I sought help from the leaders who instructed me in my faith, but they continued giving me the same lines, that if I had more faith, I wouldn't be struggling. They told me I lacked generosity and was unwilling to carry my cross, because "God never gives us more than we can carry." They accused me of selfishness when their scripture verses didn't solve my dilemma, and then they dismissed me.

And so I was not just discouraged, I felt abandoned. I prayed for light, I sought to be more generous, I tried to lift my spirit with the same scripture verses that had once inspired me. I found they fell flat in the midst of the accusations and judgements. As I sat in this state, silent before God who remained silent, I had to dig deeper. It took time, as I was so wedded to the doctrine that was given to me that seeking my truth seemed heretical. I kept searching, questioning, listening. As I did, my search gradually revealed a different God, one who didn’t send out trite sayings or demand adherence to a doctrine that kept changing, or punish me because I was human and failed.

Instead, I found a God so vast and kind as to defy any human capacity to contain, understand, or interpret.

I looked with a critical eye towards my former “faith." I asked myself all sorts of questions. Was my problem fearing the unknown and so gladly accepting answers a faith tradition offered? Did I need a tidy God I could grap and who would be like me, adhereing to human sentiments and judgements? Did I make doctrines my anchor, which then kept me from hearing God asking me to swim freely? Perhaps I ignored my doubts because I would have had to let go of what seemed more secure.

 I’ve moved on from the security of organized religion. I revel in a mystery I cannot know for certain,