A friend made this comment that really encapsulates the depth of the issues for LGBT+ people around religious abuse and the implications of banning CT and hate speech.
The deep seated guilt and shame for LGBT+ Christians isn’t easily solved by just joining an affirming church or finding new friends.
Part of the difficulty is that the guilt is applied well before it gets to the “conversion therapy” stage as the teaching is woven throughout the belief system for everyone. In the church I grew up in during the 60’s and 70’s, there was little anti-gay stuff spoken directly from the pulpit but it was implied and inferred. There was a little more said at home (probably in answer to questions about what did the Pastor mean when . . . ) but somehow one was very clearly taught that anything except heterosexual monogamous marriage was the only acceptable way to do relationships.
This screws up everyone’s thinking if they have any degree of LGBTQIA attributes – the guilt and sense of brokenness is inherent even without going to conversion therapy.
As Gay Activism got louder through the 70s, the anti-gay theme began showing up more obviously in church teachings, and one buried one’s unacceptable sexuality even further, and took in the anti-gay mantel too.
Even though not subject to overt applied conversion therapy, every person that fellowships in these church activities is subject to subtle implied conversion therapy.
How does one legislate against that?
Hate speech, no, they’re too subtle for that. One of the last church services I attended at the ‘radical centre’ church I attended, stated that if a homosexual couple came into the church they would be welcome and accepted – but that a marriage would not be performed in the church or by that pastor.
So – they have worked out ways around the hate speech laws.
This is fast becoming the church’s normal way of dealing with it all – bigotry and hypocrisy with a welcoming smile and knife in the back.
We all have spiritual “needs”, no matter what our beliefs are. Atheists even have these needs, but they are usually satisfied through accepting and immersing our minds with the awe of nature.
Scientific endeavours in the areas of quantum physics and the “philosophy of physics” are tackling the big questions around the fundamental nature of everything. This has long been the goal of science in general, and finding the “theory of everything” has been a driving force since early last century when people like Einstein (and a host of others) took the whole idea very seriously. Added to this is the whole problem of “consciousness”. What is it and how did we get it?
The whole process would take volumes to work through, so I’ll just skip to the latest interesting bits.
There is a fast growing group of physicists (theoretical and philosophical) who believe that consciousness itself is the underlying “energy” from which everything else arises. In extremely simple terms, this means that all forms of energy (which coalesce into more and more complex forms of energy, becoming atoms, molecules and so on up the scale) are products or projections of a “sea” of conscious energy.
There are many versions of this idea. A popular one, that has been around for a long time in various forms is called Panpsychism Despite what the cynical and jaded among us may think, this area of research actually addresses the underlying problems very eloquently.
All this goes to indicate that the ancient ideas around “universal consciousness” (or any of a multitude of terms describing our innate oneness) aren’t some mystical mythology. The fact is, it provides an extremely workable foundation for living life to it’s fullest in every way.
In CORE Therapy, I use all this to explain that there are three arbitrary levels of human experience – our thoughts, our awareness, and our oneness. This can be referred to as the “nature of experience”.
As a very simple description, our thoughts run through our minds non stop, all day, every day. They arise from physical experiences through our senses and from memories, which are then attached to emotional reactions of some sort. Our awareness sits “behind” our thoughts and is the objective part of us (kinda sorta, but more on that in another blog). Then there is the great “sea” of consciousness which everything exists in and comes from.
This empowers us to observe our thoughts in an objective fashion, not with the goal to change them, but to simply see them for what they are – an integral and essential part of what being human is! It’s the core of many ancient philosophies, so is nothing new at all! My goal is to present the concepts in a way that is accessible to the western mind and can be applied practically in the area of mental health.
The simple realisation of this is life changing! This is really important for those of us who have suffered religious abuse and the thought of theology and doctrines, church and religion in general, are too triggering, but are still deeply aware of the need for some sort of spiritual connection that can bring love and light, peace and joy into our lives.
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!
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.
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?
