The only way to successfully communicate with fundamentalist Christians is through heart felt empathy – from our part. It seems this is the only way to find a crack in their armour, where they see our humanity, vulnerability and heart.
But I must confess, even then it’s an uphill battle.
Sadly for far too many, it’s too late for us to engage in any meaningful way. So many of us LGBT+ people have decided that we can no longer embrace our faith and are looking for safe spaces to deconstruct.
Many are too afraid to publicly admit that they no longer hold to the traditional Christian theology and doctrines, but remain because they have nowhere else to go!
The church community can be such a strong pull that to walk away feels like dying. They are suffering in a place of complete cognitive dissonance – the “silent gays” – hiding their true identity, living in fear, wearing the mask.
For many LGBT+ people struggling to maintain their faith, they are too tired. They are emotionally damaged to the point where the thought of engaging in the ways that require emotional vulnerability and compassion are just another load on top of what they already carry.
Although I personally try to engage traditionalists with empathy and compassion, I far too often find it exhausting and frustrating. I’m learning to walk away a little more graciously these days, but I have my moments!
This is a huge reality, and causes intense silent suffering. Mental health issues are inevitable and the suicide rate in LGBT+ Christians is horrifically high.
You aren’t alone! Don’t be afraid to reach out to those who have walked away from church. It’s OK to ask taboo questions. It’s OK to deconstruct in whatever way you need. “God” is far bigger than any religion can contain.
The core of religious abuse for LGBT+ people is in the destruction of our worth as human beings, instilling a deep sense of self-loathing. Even without being LGBT+, we are taught, as Christians, that we are intrinsically evil, born in sin, incapable of doing any good and often summed up as “hopeless sinners saved by grace”.
This particular theological doctrine has done more damage to humanity than we can comprehend. It keeps us in perpetual bondage to our apparent worthlessness as a human being. Saying that God alone gives us any worth/value does not make it any better. It pushes the beauty of our humanity even further away, creates deep division by inflating the “us vs them” mentality, which could be articulated as “we can’t accept you, or anything you say/believe, because without God you are evil – born evil – and nothing you can do will change that unless you believe the same as we do”.
In psychological terms this is referred to as submitting to an “external locus of control”. Christianity says that we must submit to an external force (the Holy Spirit) that acts in us and through us. Although the claim is made that this force lives inside us, it’s still not “us” – we coexist with this entity in the hope that we will eventually conform to it’s likeness. Even though it lives in us, its an external locus of control that we willingly give ourselves over to.
There is a certain aspect of self responsibility in this, where doctrines say we are responsible for our actions, but the foundation and motivation is centred around giving up our most basic sense of self to something else. No matter how we paint this, with all the doctrines of God living in us and creating a far better version of ourselves, we are abdicating our humanity and creating a delusion of worthlessness.
There is, of course, the attempt to address this through doctrines that say our worth is found in God’s love for us – that he loves us so much that he died for us – but that still says that we are worthless without him, so submitting to his control is the only solution.
This stands as one of the greatest “evils” that the church has given mankind!
I saw a video on being gay and religious the other day. One of the key comments the guy makes is his feeling of belonging and connection with thousands of years of traditions etc. He mentions that at the end of the day it’s all about doing good to humanity and loving people.
But here’s the catch. The Jewish scriptures (the Old Testament for Christians) are absolutely clear about many things. For LGBT+ people it takes a lot of unraveling to sort out the scriptures that talk about homosexuality being an abomination and that God commanded their death. Most Jews who exhibit compassion and empathy tend to sweep all that under the carpet, or create doctrinal work-arounds, as any sane human would.
But there’s a bigger point to be made in all this – religious comfort.
Religion’s primary concern is with providing security, comfort, assurance… a sense of “belonging”. We can make it about “the truth” if we want, but there isn’t a single thing about any deity that can survive the tests of rational scrutiny and scientific methodology. That’s not to say there is no deity, it’s just there’s zero proof.
Despite all that (and all it implies) it comes down to comfort in the face of the unknown, and this is something that no compassionate person would deny anyone.
For me, my relationship with Jesus was all about finding a “place” of love and compassion, comfort and hope. I loved Jesus. He was my friend. I knew he listened, and if I could get my crazy brain to slow down enough, I could hear him!
For some, it’s more about feeding the ego and the “comfort” obtained from that. This is especially evident with people who enjoy the feeling of privilege from knowing something others don’t – of holding the key to salvation. They love the thought that they are special, to the exclusion of others – because feeling special implies that others are not. If we are all special it no longer has meaning because special is just normal. What most Christians fail to see is that most of us have this to greater or lesser degrees. It becomes apparent in fundamentalists of course, but it’s very insidious and creeps into our attitudes far too easily.
But I digress…
Religious comfort is easy. That’s why we love it so much. It’s not that it’s “wrong”, but it’s the easy way out. So I get it, and I certainly embraced it for all it was worth, and it kept me alive and relatively sane.
But what’s the alternative?
Being brave enough to face the problems that religion attempts to solve and finding peace in that place. It’s about accepting that we don’t know what the next second may bring, let alone the next 20 years, or eternity. It’s finding peace in being here and now, and exercising empathy with ourselves and everyone else in this moment.
This allows us to be 100% “here” in every way. No concern for the past or the future, and free to love everyone – because we are all in exactly the same position whether we accept it or not (and no, it doesn’t mean we don’t make plans etc, but I’ll save that for another blog). Our gods can only provide some escapism – enough delusion to feel OK about life and the future.
But finding the “guts” to face the reality is not an easy task. I might sound very confident as I write this, but the working out of this is slow and requires a determination to break the addiction of religious comfort. The one thing I (and countless others) can assure you of however, is that it’s worth every ounce of effort we can put into it.
We don’t need religion or deities – but we do need to find a way to live at peace, with love and compassion, and that genuinely includes every other human being.
For those who haven’t heard, Sy Rogers died the other day.
In the interests of integrity and honesty, and respecting Sy’s desire to be a man despite his gender dysphoria and even living as a trans women for a while, I’ll use “they” as the pronoun to reflect this conflict.
Sy was one of the most prominent “ex-gay” preachers and traveled the world with their message that God can transform us into happy, fulfilled straight people. They rose to fame in the 80s and was even president of Exodus Ministries for a while.
One of their most famous quotes was “If you want to stay gay, that’s your business,… But the bottom line is, you have a choice to overcome it. You can change. The goal is God – not going straight. Straight people don’t go to Heaven, redeemed people do.”
As a fellow human being, my heart goes out to their family and friends.
But I find myself rather triggered. It’s brought up all the misery I went through trying to be a straight man all my life. And already, I’m finding countless others feeling the same.
Their very public teachings and testimony were adopted as “proof” that LGBT people could change. It was given extra weight because their story included their gender as well as their sexuality. Sy never really addressed the differences between the two, which we know are completely unrelated human attributes. Of course, we all know that no one actually changes either of these attributes. We either repress, deny or employ diversions such as religious obsessions to delude ourselves that we are changed or cured. We also know that most of the time this ends up causing mental illness and suicide.
Sy’s legacy would be impossible to quantify. Their message and ministry is directly responsible for bringing incalculable pain, misery, suffering and even death to literally millions.
Of course, there are many others who contributed to the abuse of LGBT people. But Sy is exceptional in that he had the opportunity to bring life instead of death, but refused to do so.
In 2007, during a meeting with Anthony Venn Brown, Sy said “I no longer preach a re-orientation message”. However, they never made this public! They’d said the same thing to other ministers as well over more recent years. And yes, if we look at their ministry over the last 15 years or so, it became more about relational wholeness through Jesus and similar topics. Sy had indeed carefully sidestepped his original message without so much as a word. Their only comment was about not wanting to cause public controversy. Perhaps it was more about saving face and finance? We may never know.
For me and so many now, this is the ultimate betrayal. How many lives could have been saved if Sy had had the guts to be honest and care more about others. Was Sy that unaware of the damage of their message?
It will take a while for me to process my emotions around this. I would encourage any of us who find ourselves confronting the anger and frustration of all we’ve been through to be brave, give yourself permission to feel and process it all. Get some help if needed, talk to safe friends or a counselor.
So yeah…. I don’t like to “talk ill of the dead” while family are still grieving, but I feel I have no choice. The Sy Rogers legacy is horrific.
For most of us, coming out and working through religious issues has required huge amounts of vulnerability (opening ourselves up to be easily hurt, influenced, or attacked).
We open ourselves up to others to share our deepest secrets, our shame, our mental health and the pain we’ve lived with.
Even with strong relationships and a solid loving community, this can be very traumatic. But without them, it can be a long lonely journey. Whatever the process for each of us, it’s something that requires guts, determination and bravery.
If we have come out of fundamentalism/pentecostalism etc we have the pain of losing those who we thought loved and cared for us. We become the target of their abuse, disguised as love and concern at best, or outright condemnation and assignment to hell at worst.
Eventually we have to turn our backs on these people and establish a new life with people who really do care, who actually love us unconditionally. To keep contact with those who abuse us is simply too hard, especially if our mental health has been affected. Our vulnerability can only stand so much and we must protect ourselves to survive.
Personally, this has been a complex battle. Part of me would love to walk away and never engage with this type of religion again. But I’m also confronted with the reality that I was part of the system that causes so much abuse, being a leader in Living Waters conversion therapy for so long. I shudder to think of the damage I did and perhaps the loss of life I was implicit in.
Silent Gays has been a work of passion and compassion for all those who have experienced religious abuse. But it puts me in a constant state of vulnerability. I share my life over and over. I am constantly confronted and condemned by traditional Christians. The more I reach out to those silently suffering in churches, the more I’m abused. It’s a situation of constant vulnerability, and honestly, some days it’s really hard. It takes it’s toll.
Despite this, my heart for the abused is stronger than ever, so I have to work with the balancing act of self preservation and confrontation. I will not stop confronting the religious fundamentalists because I know that in doing so, others are watching – those who would never speak out in vulnerability. I know that my strength in being vulnerable is an inspiration.
In writing this, I’m once again being vulnerable. Some will say it’s the least I can do given my participation in the abuse. Other’s will say to just let it all go and get on with my life. Perhaps one day I will walk away, but I think I’d never stop feeling for the countless others struggling under the deathly weight of religion.
Meanwhile, I do all I can to walk that fine line, and live my life to it’s fullest.
So far we’ve looked at some crucial foundations for assessing Christian beliefs and dogma. But when we let go of dogma we are left with a rather unsettling “existential” uncertainty. By that I mean our certainty around who we are, why we’re here and what happens when we die is no longer supported by a set of dogmatic doctrines and theology.
We are suddenly set adrift in a scary, complex and largely unknown universe. Our sense of security has gone.
The whole idea of religion is, after all, to meet these complex needs in a way that helps us feel secure so we can handle daily life. But when we remove the certainty of a loving god who created us and the universe and has everything sorted, it creates a vacuum that often drives people back to religious ideas, although often modified to be more rational and loving.
Real strength however, is found when we discover that place of peace in the midst of “not knowing”!
Yes indeed, we can actually live an incredibly fulfilling and joyful life by accepting that we really know next to nothing about this stuff, and that’s totally OK.
Nothing presented by any religious belief system is verifiable in any way. Sure, there are religious philosophical folks who attempt to deduce god from logical arguments, and some of them are vaguely persuasive, but they are still nothing more than subjective ramblings and wishful thinking.
There is incredible peace in learning to rest in the space of simply “being”. There’s a place of non-striving acceptance that empowers us to move with grace and love, knowing that we are intrinsically part of the universe – no greater or lesser than any other part. We are stardust (to coin a cliche). Everything is exactly as it should be – it can be no other way.
When we embrace this, it brings deep peace, and empowers us to move through life with a paradoxical sense of purpose and meaning. But it takes a lot of unraveling the paradigms of traditional theistic thought. Those “gods” are such pesky and intrusive cultural and personal beliefs, and the thought of letting go can be frightening! Especially when we have been conditioned to believe that those gods completely control our lives and eternal destiny.
We are enough, exactly as we are.
We are uniquely the same.
We have all we need within us already.
We are each other.
We truly are one.
God really is us – our united humanity, and all of the universe, is God. Everything is God, there is nothing else.
Yes, I know that’s been overused and turned into crazed hippy cosmic cliches. But despite that, it’s the only belief system that can form the foundation of a functional life that truly embraces unconditional love.
David (aka The Naked Pastor) is a wonderful LGBT ally and fellow traveller in the journey of deconstructing religion. I found this article helpful in articulating the reasons why we enjoy church and the difficulties we face when we leave. His work through The Lasting Supper is amazing and bridges that gap for people who need a safe space to assess what the heck they really believe and the damage religion can cause
I’ve left the church. Many times. The last time I left was 8 years ago. It was painful every time. Here’s just a few of the reasons why it was so difficult to leave.
1. Fear: When I left the church, a profound cloud of fear enveloped me: “What have I done?” No matter how much you rationalize your decision, the years and years of indoctrination collect to shout out jeers and threats for your selfishness, stupidity, sinfulness, and short-sightedness. You have just willingly divorced yourself from God and his people, taken your first step closer to Hell, thrown yourself into the arms of the Devil, and destined yourself to an endless road of Perdition. You have officially branded yourself a Heretic. Lost! Of course this isn’t true, but try telling yourself that! Over and over and over again.
2. Friends: The first time I left the church I imagined
I would keep many of the friends I had there. I learned quickly that it
never seems to work out. Even the last time I left the church, that
fantasy was still burning in my mind. Again, it didn’t work out. You
lose friends. Maybe not all, but most of them. Period. You have to learn
how to make new ones while you’re grieving the loss of your old ones.
Not easy.
3. Inspiration: There is something very inspiring about gathering together with others on pretty much the same page, in agreement, learning together and singing together and supporting each other. I love hearing or delivering a good sermon. Honestly! Most often I walked away refreshed and refuelled for the next week. Learning how to do that by yourself is not simple.
4. Music: I was always involved with the music and
worship. The last worship band I had rocked! I loved playing and singing
with them. We had some great times and even made a CD together that’s
pretty good. I haven’t picked up my guitar since I left, but that’s my
fault. I don’t listen to worship music much anymore either unless it’s
renaissance church music or Russian Orthodox choirs. There’s too much
“ick” associated with worship music for me now.
5. Support: When I and my family went through difficult
times, we always always had people around us who cared and actually did
something about it. We’ve been given food, money, babysitting, cars,
rides, help moving, prayers, company, words, vacations… you name it. The
church also made it easy for us to be generous and give. Now we’re on
our own, and the difference is noticeable. We are learning to be
self-sufficient and generous independently.
6. Destiny: The last denomination I was involved with
was the Vineyard. Prophetic words, words of wisdom, dreams and visions
are a huge part of that culture. My life had meaning and a sense of
purpose. I woke up every morning pretty much knowing what I had to do
and where my life was heading. I had a destiny! Even though I now
believe most of that was hype, I did enjoy living in that matrix of
illusion. Then I took the red pill. Oh my!
7. Validation: When you are in the church, you get a
very strong sense that you are on the gospel train. You are doing the
right thing being counted among the people of God. You are a member, and
that gives you a sense of assurance that you are indeed saved, that God
has his eye on you and that you are on the right track. When you get
off that train, you have to build your own sense of assurance that you
are okay, and that is an arduous but necessary task.
8. Boredom: I have so much more time on my hands since I
left the church. I remember my first Sunday morning not going. I went
for a walk around the time when cars where driving by on their way to
church. Did I ever feel strange! It was hard not feeling like a
delinquent. A sinner. I’ve gotten used to it to the point now where I
relish my Sunday mornings. But that’s not all. When you involve yourself
with the church, it can become like a family with its 24/7 demands. Now
I have to be self-directed. But I’m learning.
9. Children: Even though Lisa and I
are learning our new way of life, we always worry about our children.
They are amazing young adults now. But they have been exposed to all the
crap that’s been dealt out to us, and their impression of church is not
rosy. We never slam the church in front of them, but they aren’t
stupid. They catch on. We don’t want them erroneously believing that
this means we are enemies of religion, the church, faith, or
spirituality. They each have their own brilliant expressions of
spirituality, but it’s been forged by fire. Sometimes ours.
10. Inclusion: I fight hard for the church. Some people
mistake it for me fighting hard against it. When pressed, I still say
my family of origin is Christianity and that I love the church. I
totally believe in the right of people to gather together volitionally,
but in a healthy manner… which is rare. I am also for spiritual
independence. It saddens me when people assume that because I’ve left
the church I am no longer in the game. When I was in the church, my
voice was criticized as biting the hand that fed me. Now it is
criticized as not deserving to critique something I’m not a part of.
Can’t win.
Please understand that even though most of these are really good reasons to stay in the church, most often they come at a price. Like the rabbits of Watership Down who were well fed by the farmer. But the deal was the farmer could occasionally harvest some of them for food and fur. In this case, none of the good the church offers is worth it for me.
Do these reasons apply to you? Or, do you have other reasons?
Many people think that I’m now “out and proud”, and that my days of living in hidden trauma, depression and self loathing are long gone.
I guess I do give that impression because I’m a passionate advocate for helping people untangle the mess of religion, especially for LGBT people. I speak about how amazing life is now that I’m free from the bondage and abuse from that belief system.
But there’s a hidden legacy that I live with – that most who have been through this sort of stuff live with.
Let me explain…
On one level I’ve never felt more at peace to be free from religion and dogma and how that affected me as a gay man. I understand love in ways I never thought possible. Life is infinitely better!
But I lived a nightmare for most of my life. I lived a life of shame and guilt – of being a failure, a “freak”, faulty, rejected and deeply tormented for being something I couldn’t change, which culminated in a breakdown after my wife died.
It’s been a slow journey out of that mess, and the legacy of that life is deep and lingering. I was on antidepressants for 6 years and still have bouts of depression and anxiety. I have ADHD that became far worse after the breakdown. I can’t absorb complex technical information any more (which sucks because I used to be a Technical Writer and Instructional Designer). My brain runs full tilt all the time, dancing from one thing to another without a word of warning. I get confused easily. I’m impulsive. I lose track of what I’m doing. It’s not just old age, lol, although I’m sure that doesn’t help!
I struggle every day. It took me 2 years to write It’s Life Jim… not only because of the time it took to untangle so much of the mess, but also because my mind doesn’t operate in linear coherent ways any more (not that it was ever that good at it anyway). Some days I get up with the best of intentions and clarity only to find it turns to vapour the moment I start to be “productive”. I practice mindfulness and go for long walks. I take time as best I can, to slow down. I like my wine and beer, and the odd bit of wacky weed to help slow down the endless barrage of chatter in my head.
I struggle with how most of my life was a complete waste, never finding peace or integrity, self worth and living a complete lie, damaging those closest to me, as well as myself. Sure, there’s all the platitudes about my life’s journey and nothing is a waste etc… I get that, really I do. But that doesn’t help the deep scars left by the endless years of crap.
Daily, “normal” life is not something I do well. I’m one of the walking wounded, with a pronounced limp that I’m slowly realising may never go away. And yet, the paradox is I’m happier than I’ve ever been. A deep happiness and peace – so much better than my previous life.
One thing I can give, without hesitation, is my integrity and honesty about who I am, what I’ve done and where I’m at. I can “share my journey” with as much honesty as I’m capable of mustering, because that is the only thing any of us can do in the end. Sure I “preach” about the things that have set me free, and I’m passionate about everyone growing into real life and love without fear or dogma. But I’m just me, still discovering my own biases and how I affect others.
My favourite tag line is “Live loved”. I’m still learning how powerful and profound those simple words are. Some days are better than others, but it’s always a step forward.
The legacy of christianity, for me, is deep. I’ve seen the utter failing of it’s core doctrines. I’m not as bitter as I used to be, and have always recognised that many beautiful, loving people have found a belief system that works for them. They are the ones who have shaped their beliefs around their own inherent beauty, rather than the doctrines of the belief system itself, but that’s a whole other story, lol.
So I guess I’m saying that if I (or anyone) give the impression that I’m suddenly free and perfect after a lifetime of abuse, then sorry, it doesn’t work like that.
It’s always bugged me. Even when I was a pentecostal bible basher.
“Nice” Christians.
You know the type…
Always smiling, always have an encouraging “word” for you, and ignoring everything “bad” in the world and only trying to think “good” thoughts.
Plastic, is one word that comes to mind, or shallow. They are out there in their millions.
Most live happy lives and I guess that’s OK. But it’s not OK when you interact with them on anything other than how lovely the pastors wife looks, or discussing how your latest sponsor child in Africa is going.
I had a run-in online with an old acquaintance from my pente church in the 80s. She was commenting on the upcoming vote in Australia on gay marriage and was posting articles as to why we should vote no. I was quick to jump on them and point out the many flaws in the facts and research they stated. They were highly inaccurate and offensive for those who actually know what they are talking about.
The comments were all “oh, dear, how terrible, yes we must vote no!”. But I had the guts to point out the flaws. It didn’t go down well. But here’s the rub. You see, she’s a “nice” christian, so wouldn’t dream of confronting me with her real feelings, so proceeded with patronising comments that had that “I’m being firm but loving” attitude, and it was wrong of me to confront her and make assumptions about her views etc, and then finished off with “God bless”, and the unfriended me.
I’m inclined to think these types are far worse than the Westbro psychopaths. At least with Westbro you know exactly where you stand – there’s no fake mask, no pretence, what you see is what you get. (Yes, I’m generalising)
But the “nice” ones are insidious. They hide in their little isolated worlds and even when they “go out into the world”, it’s to do good deeds and help those poor 3rd world people and the “underpriveliged” (a very apt word). Of course, they may bring practical help but it’s always with an agenda of getting them saved and making them into “nice” acceptable western Christians, just like them.
In daily life, they avoid conflict, and if it arises, they default to bible verses, spoken in love of course. If that doesn’t work they may gently rebuke you with a smile and claim they still love you, but not your actions. They think that being “nice” is all they have to do to be “Christlike”.
The truth is, they are just like the Pharisees. Pretending they are wise and caring. Pretending they know best and we should just all be nice like them and get along. We must follow their doctrines and only allow questions that are within the constraints of their bible study guidelines. They are gutless, controlling, patronising, arrogant and everything Jesus stood against.
If you try to interact with these folks, you’ll come away feeling like you are the one with the problem. They may trigger all your issues of religious abuse, and then quietly, and oh so politely, point out that you are the one who has reacted badly. They may suggest a good Christian counsellor, or if you really get up their noses, they may snub you and remove you from their circle of niceness.
These are the ones I really struggle with, and I now realise it’s ok to call them out on it. It’s ok to challenge them. We don’t have to be “nice”. We have to be loving and compassionate but also real, honest, exposing bigotry and injustice – just like Jesus did!
