The Aftermath of Evangelical Christianity

Recently the show Leah Remini: Scientology and the Aftermath has been encouraging conversation about the negative effects of cults fronting as "regular" organized religion. After watching most of the episodes with my parents, who raised me as a devout Evangelical Christian, I had the following questions:

Isn't the Scientology front so successful because of how much overlap there is with the recognized religions in the first place? 

Is there not also a history of money scams, sexual crimes, suppression of women, overlooking the now to focus on the eternal future, intensified shaming, constantly pushing others to join, hate and anger towards certain groups, and the teaching to only hang out with people who are "good enough" aka only those who are a part of the religious group?

Though I wasn't personally the victim of anything "blatant" or illegal like being held against my will, I experienced all of these as a faithful Evangelical Christian.

Every church location can be different, so here's what I would define as good, faithful Evangelical Christian youth at the church I grew up in:

• Attended church 2 or 3 times per week, homeschooled and involved in the church's schooling program a plus
• Tithed [donated] 10%+ of their earnings to the church
• Volunteered for most services (greeting, music, etc.)
• Signed up for all additional church activities such as workshops and church camps
• Did daily devotionals and bible-readings as well as song worship when possible
• Had only Evangelical Christian friends, preferably those most dedicated to the church
• Abstained from any secular (non-Christian) music and any media deemed evil (witchcraft-related, explicit, etc.)
• Were sexually pure, and for girl fully covered up or they are sinning
• Girls were leaders too, but should ultimately be submissive because boys are the head of the house
• Told others about Jesus. One should feel guilt for not giving them the opportunity to have eternal life and avoid hell
• Believed homosexuals are going to hell no matter what. So are people from other religions who don't specifically accept Jesus as their one and only savior. God can be merciful, but ultimately he is a God of fear and if you stray too far from the path of righteousness you may not end up in heaven either
• Believed that God ultimately decides your fate, and if bad or good things happen to you, it's probably because of something you have or haven't done
• Reached higher levels of connection with God, as proven by demonstrations such as speaking in tongues and a second baptism
• Had the ultimate goal of getting closer to God and spreading his word; regular college is meh but bible college is where it's at

And those are just the overarching bullet points. 

Where to begin. I'll go backwards. 

The last experience I ever had with the Evangelical Christian church was 10 years ago, at age 18, over some spotty cellphone reception in South Lake Tahoe, CA. I was just very confused and still hanging on to all that'd been ingrained in me growing up. I'd just finished meeting with a priest at a local Tahoe church, and called my youth pastor for clarification. I was trying to figure out if someone who'd claimed to have "sold their soul" to the devil in the past was doomed to hell, or if there was something to be done. This someone was my sweetheart, rock climbing boyfriend. 

I was told the only thing that could be done to save someone "so lost" was to have them accept Jesus into their heart. 

My boyfriend, the most supportive and kind being I'd met until that point, as he was, was doomed for an eternity of punishment and torture. I shouldn't have been so closely associated with him really. The call cut out, and soon after I cut religion out of my life.

The only reason I didn't commit suicide while a part of the church is because of how clear it's made that killing God's human creation, yourself, is an unforgivable sin and therefore means an eternity of hell. 

I'd always felt as though I was on the "fringes" of the church, not one of their poster good Christian girls. I was constantly made to feel that I wasn't good enough at home and at church. As such a failure, it didn't feel like anyone would miss me.

Just before moving to Tahoe, I'd reconciled myself with the church after a stint of being a stoner and general deviant. I'd worked hard towards being that ideal, faithful Christian girl. I was at church a lot and had stopped hanging out with my secular (non-religious) friends. I was dating someone from the church and we couldn't do anything more than makeout, sometimes. Even that was kind of on the wild side. I was now straightedge, though I'd hide in my car to smoke cigarettes.

I didn't want to be the one labeled as was "bad" and in need of help, I wanted approval. 

With the church's support, I enrolled for a Christian missionary degree at a local bible college that started at the end of that coming summer.

That summer I got a job away from my hometown and church for the first time, in Yosemite Valley. I was used to people judging my every move, and viewing "outsiders" as bad. There amongst the employees of Yosemite, there were no outsiders (aside from the tourists : p). Everyone was welcome and everyone was instantly your friend. There were people of all ages and from all walks of life. I had never felt so accepted. Though I still read the bible everyday, my thoughts were churning.

As someone who was supposed to be abstinent until marriage, I was immediately on the hunt for a husband, rather than just focusing on my own personal growth. I found one— that sweet, rock climbing boyfriend I moved to Tahoe with. We ended up being together for 4 1/2 years, but in the end had different life goals, and I still had to deal with all of the after-effects of my childhood home and church life. I remember the day I decided to stay in Yosemite with him rather than go to bible college. He'd brought up my religiosity and how he viewed it as unstainable, not realistic long-term. I was taken aback and fell asleep in my car thinking. I woke up with a vague but powerful answer, "You don't know everything now, you have to trust that things will work out."

I decided to put faith in the person that supported me no matter my flaws, instead of the group that constantly made me feel inadequate.

Before this, I'd lost my virginity at 17 to one of my high school best friends. Well, kind of. In reality, the first sexual experience I'd had was at 16 with my grocery store coworker. He'd gotten me drunk at his twenty-something-year-old brother's house, and all I really remember is saying "no" in the car after that and being hungover all of the next day. He didn't really talk to me after that. And I haven't told anyone that story before, because I feel dumb for it. It would go on to lead to additional similar experiences. 

In reality, I didn't value myself enough to prevent something like that from happening.

I was very conflicted by my natural sexuality and what I was being told by the church, as well as my home life. I wanted to be liked and validated, and to forget for a moment what my life was by not being sober. I was completely naive to what healthy sexual relations were like because my parents and church wouldn't talk to me about it. Sex was bad and gross, and so were those doing it outside of marriage. 

Even after leaving the church and getting married, I had no concept of a healthy sex life and really struggled. I couldn't even have sex for a while, which shouldn't be a thing for a healthy 19-year-old. 

In my opinion, it was all mental, from the past traumatic experiences and the guilt I had so strongly attached to sex throughout my upbringing.

To this day, I struggle with revealing my sexuality and my body. I didn't wear my first crop top until I was 25, and it made me super uncomfortable. It can be hard for me to talk to people about sex, though it's gotten a lot better. In general, I still have a tendency to hide and feel shame.

During my marriage, I took the back seat in my life. I was influenced by my mother in that she had to be a strong supporter of our family growing up due to my dad's disability, but the church's teachings were still the above-all. I handled the finances and threw myself into college education, but the number one priority in my life was ensuring that my husband achieved his rock climbing goals. He was a strong climber who went on to climb 5.14 and gain sponsorship. He never asked me to be the way I was, I just did it automatically. It wasn't until I wanted to finish my college education and he wasn't interested in joining me in the town it was in that it started to click in my mind that I wasn't a part of the relationship in the way that he was. And I didn't really push to be until around when we separated, and again that wasn't his fault. 

It's harder for me to go further back since I think I've tried to block it all out as a defense mechanism.

At 17, I sat in a psychologist's office next to my mom, explaining the racing thoughts and fear of evil spirits that were fueling my insomnia.

My mom wanted to be there to ensure that the psychologist heard every issue I had and everything I'd done wrong, so he could finally fix me. I'll never forget the look on my mom's face when he told her that she probably needed to go to therapy too. 

From a young age I had night terrors and the fear that evil was following me and would get me if I wasn't a good enough Christian.

I would severely panic if alone, though that's also tied to some other life issues I won't go into. 

I remember going to my parent's room after one of these horrible nightmares, and my mom trying to "cast the devil out of me," insinuating I was possessed in some way. 

This made me even more scared. I learned to internalize everything and had to relearn how to express myself as an adult. I'm generally someone who's very sensitive to things, so perhaps that's why intense organized religion manifested itself so deeply in my life, or perhaps this is a common experience. 

During my "deviant time" around 17, I tried to smoke enough weed that I would escape all of these thoughts and be able to just fall asleep.

My insomnia went away when I moved away from my hometown and the church, to Yosemite.

When I acted out and not like a faithful Christian girl (which I later realized was just me being a completely normal teenager and not a complete failure like I felt for so long), my parents would subject me to random drug and pregnancy tests. They told me that for me to be acting in such a way, I must be on meth.

I'd only ever smoked weed and drank a minimal number of times. I went to a handful of parties throughout my 4 years in high school. I was usually grounded anyway. I'd only ever (willingly) slept with my best boy friend in high school. My favorite band was Relient K and I would often sing worship songs during vocal practice after school. I made it a goal to read the entire bible from cover to cover.

I was a horrible daughter and Christian.

All of these things I did that could be construed as sinning by the church I felt suffocatingly guilty for, and I tried to hide them, but usually to no avail.

Growing up I'd watch Christian programming such as It's a Miracle and Pat Robinson on the Christian Broadcasting Network (CBN) with my Dad. He'd become severely disabled due to medical malpractice, with something for which there's really no cure, so I can see why the miracles aired throughout those shows would sometimes feel like the only hope. What I also experienced on these networks were mass fundraising campaigns, telling people that even if they barely have the means to donate, if they just donate out of faith then God will bless them with spontaneous healing or financial health very soon. These donations often went to high-up religious figures such as Pat Robinson, Benny Hinn, and other televangelists who have all be investigated for scamming.

One of the most impactful things is that people like my dad will believe blatantly highly-praised Christian figures such as these over me. My dad once told me that my hard-earned college degree meant nothing because it was led by liberal (aka non-religious) people. 

Why do con artist religious figures win over one's own family?

To me it's the same reason as seen in a "cult." To me there are blurred lines.

It took years of self-evaluation and huge accomplishments to accept that I wasn't a failure for leaving, religion just very negatively affected my life and I wanted different things. 

I wanted to be free of the fear, anxiety, guilt, and shame.

To be continued...