“Moral injury creates two victims.”

This is an excellent post by . It explains what moral injury is and its impact. Here is the text of it. You can also find it here. Give Clare a follow. She is an Australian writer and has a lot of great material.

“Since leaving high-control religion, and even more so since starting the Australian Cult Survivors Network, I’ve been thinking about the damage of high-control groups. It’s not often the things we believed that wound us. It’s what was done to us. The control, the shunning, the commodification of youth and earnestness, the way it was turned into labour. The way dissent was squashed. The way questions became fears, thinking became dangerous, and self was suppressed. The surveillance. The relationships. The financial and health loss. The sermons and one-on-one sessions that rearranged our insides before we were old enough to have opinions or autonomy.

It’s all of that. It’s in the eyes and in the stories of every survivor I work with.

But there’s one thing we find it a lot harder to wrap words around, and it keeps so many of us awake at night. I didn’t know until a few years ago that it had a name. Moral injury. Its the wound left behind by the things you were forced to do, or complied with, or witnessed and failed to stop because of the totalitarian control the cult or high-control group had over your mind and body.

A friendship that was cut off because leadership said they were an impediment to our progress. A parent cut off because they weren’t supportive of the program. The child we told about hell under the guise of spiritual protection, that really scared them into compliance. The time you sat silently and watched someone humiliated or forced to confess in front of the whole group.

This is moral injury, and it’s hard to know what to do with it. For me, it’s the queer community that invokes this feeling in me. The things I said. The things. I believed. The things I didn’t know until my husband came out. And the youth of the church I was in. People say, “but you were different” and tell me that somehow I was a comfort to them. I still don’t believe it, to be honest.

Moral Injury isn’t a cult phenomenon: its an artefact of war

In the 1990’s, clinicians working with Vietnam veterans noticed that something: the PTSD seen in the veterans was a little atypical. It didn’t fit the normal fear-based model of post -traumatic stress.

In the 1990s, clinicians working with Vietnam veterans noticed that something in the men’s suffering didn’t fit the fear-based model of post-traumatic stress. The psychiatrist Jonathan Shay, writing from years inside the VA system, argued that the deepest damage often wasn’t terror at all. It was betrayal. He eventually put it in three parts: a betrayal of what’s right, by someone who holds legitimate authority, in a high stakes situation.

A decade and a half later, a group of psychologists led by Brett Litz broadened it. In a 2009 paper that has become the standard reference, they described a potentially morally injurious event as “perpetrating, failing to prevent, bearing witness to, or learning about acts that transgress deeply held moral beliefs and expectations.” Not just what was done to you. What you did, what you didn’t stop, what you watched, and what you found out later.

When you start thinking about those four doorways with the cult or high-control group you left in mind, it can get a little confronting. We were all in those situations. All four of them. And you can bend yourself into pretzels trying to explain it away, or your therapist can reassure you time and time again that you were powerless, you had to protect yourself, you didn’t know what you didn’t know. But the sting still stays.

Why it hits high-control group leavers.

A high-control group doesn’t just harm you. It recruits you into the harm. The whole engine runs on recruits becoming participants in their own imprisonment. We become like a network of spies keeping an eye on eachother and rushing back to the leader with intel, knowing that favour with the head honcho is safety, and compliance or devotion equal favour.

Moral injury hits leavers of cults and high-control groups because we don’t recognise the way our own consent dissipated, or how compliance was survival so much as we remember what we did to stay in that system. We were the ones who invited new recruits. We were the ones who policed each other’s appearances, prayed for someone’s “deliverance” from being gay. We set up the chairs, handed out the flyers, attended or lead the discipleship sessions, and acted as full-voiced supporters of the regime. When the group needed hands, you were the hands.

And we did it sincerely. That’s the sting. At times we enthusiastically complied without doubts. Other times, we wholeheartedly complied to quiet doubts. The way that these groups operate is by lovebombing a person through the early stages of indoctrination, and then adding costs to the latter stages of indoctrination. Once you are in, you know that any misstep can cause social, spiritual, financial, physical, mental and emotional repercussions. You tell yourself that you are in it because you believe it and it is the truth. But there is a cost to doubt, so you silence doubts. But for the most part, you believe it, and you act on your belief, and your belief was been installed by people who had a lot more clout than you when it came to your own life.

So when you leave and your conscience comes back online, it comes back online pointed at you. Not at them. At you.

This is why so many survivors describe a type of shame that recovery language doesn’t quite reach. It’s just not “I was hurt.” It’s “I did this too.” “I saw it.” “I failed to stop it.” And every attempt to say “but I was manipulated” feels, from the inside, like a dodge, because part of what the group taught you was that excuses are what weak people make.

There’s also the illusion of choice here. No one chooses to join a cult. They choose to go to a short course, or a barbeque, or some innocuous or beneficial thing. The rest is a tactical recruitment into a thought-reform process with systems of control and domination attached.

I’m not over the moral injury aspect of the world I left. I don’t think I ever will be. And its silly! I was not recruited into it, I was raised into it. There’s a difference there. However, it all seems like splitting hairs when you try to make yourself feel ok.

It was a tricky thing, the cult inquiry in Victoria. Because I read accounts of people who had grown up in my group. And I remembered them from a different angle. The kid with glandular fever (mono), who was so exhausted he could barely stand and stayed at home on a Sunday morning, only to be dragged from his bed by youth leaders and brought to church, and made to dance? I remember it, from the vantage point of the stage. I played keyboard and sang while the guys stood around him, shoving him to make him dance, or when his arms hung limp at his sides. I saw the exhaustion in his body language. I saw the dissociation in his face.

I bore witness. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to make trouble. I had to comply with leadership. But I bore witness, and I did not stop them.

Moral injury creates two victims. I will never be the greater victim in that scenario. He is. I was an adult. He was a teen. I was leadership. He was youth. It is his scar, and I read it on paper and saw it in technicolour memory. But a thousand cuts of the same type scar my soul.

The other side of moral injury is the betrayal side

Shay’s version requires legitimate authority. A pastor, an elder, an apostle, a father, an “anointed” leader — these are people holding not just power but moral authority. They were, in the group’s telling, the ones who could tell you what was right. When they turned out to be running a protection racket for abusers, or building a property portfolio, or grooming teenagers, the injury wasn’t only that you were deceived. It was that the faculty you used to tell right from wrong had been in their hands the entire time.

For kids who were raised in these fundamentalist groups, these cults or high-control groups, that damage is pretty hardcore. I dance with it every day. How is it that I was raised reading the same Bible as my parents and my siblings who are still on the inside, and yet my moral compass spins out at the things they think (or at least act as if) are right)? How does that even work? How can you be raised with “thou shalt not lie” over your head, and then be punished for calling out other people’s lies? The schisms are hard to look at.

The psychologist Jennifer Freyd has a related idea: betrayal trauma, which she describes as what happens when the people or institutions you depend on for survival violate your trust or wellbeing. She extended it to institutional betrayal, wrongs committed by an institution against people who depend on it, including failing to prevent or respond decently to harm.

The aspect of this that involves us depending on the institution for survival - that’s not an overstatement for anyone raised in one of these systems. Your housing, your friendships, your family, your eternity and your entire sense of what a good person is; one person, or the institution built around them, held all of it.

Moral injury and PTSD often travel together, but they are not the same thing.

PTSD is organised around fear and threat. The treatments that work for it are built for fear and threat. Moral injury is organised around guilt, shame, and the collapse of a moral framework. You can complete a very good course of trauma therapy, genuinely reduce your hypervigilance and your nightmares, and walk out still convinced you are a bad person who did unforgivable things. Nothing in the fear-based work touched it, because it wasn’t a fear-based problem.

The people who work in this area are fairly blunt that treating one does not treat the other. It’s worth saying to a therapist, in those words, if what you’re carrying is closer to I did that than I’m afraid of that.

I’m hoping that research on this issue grows with time, and with it, the options we have around recovery. But for now, calling it what it is, assigning it a name and identifying it as something that happened to many people is helpful on some level.

There’s also a growing evidence base for moral injury outside the military, including work that speaks directly to religious contexts. An Australian study published in Social Science & Medicine in 2022 interviewed 42 survivors of LGBTQA+ conversion practices and found moral injury and spiritual harm to be distinct injuries in their own right — damage to religious self-concept and to the survivor’s relationship with community, alongside the more familiar mental health outcomes. If you went through conversion practices, or watched them happen to someone else, you were not being dramatic about it. Researchers have now put a frame around exactly what you experienced.

What might repair look like?

I want to be careful here, because I think this is where a lot of recovery content gets glib. Moral injury does not resolve by being told you weren’t responsible, and it certainly doesn’t resolve by people telling you that you were always different. You were brainwashed. It wasn’t you. You were powerless to act. It almost never lands, because it asks you to accept a version of events in which you weren’t really there. You were there.

What seems to help more is holding both things at once. You did it. You did it inside a system engineered to make you do it. Those are both true, and neither one cancels the other. There is a lot for us to learn about what happens to agency and consent under coercion, under group-based coercive control as that term emerges into the world.

Perhaps we can somehow own an action, but identify ourselves as a clearly defined part of a production line and still send the bill to the people who built the machine?

The other thing worth knowing is that moral injury seems to be, at least partly, a community problem rather than a private one. Guilt that came from a group tends to need a group to be metabolised. Not necessarily a religious one — a survivor space, a friendship, a sponsor, a person who has done the same things you did and who won’t flinch when you say them out loud. Gosh, the words, “yeah, me too” mean so much to a survivor who was isolated on their way in, and isolated again on their way out.

You were made into an instrument. That is a thing that was done to you, and the fact that the instrument had a conscience is still bloody hurts. The guilt is not evidence that you were bad. It’s evidence that you were good enough that they had to work on you.

If any of this is sitting heavily, it’s worth talking to someone — a therapist who understands coercive control, or a survivor line. In Australia, Lifeline is 13 11 14.

Sources

• Litz, B.T., Stein, N., Delaney, E., Lebowitz, L., Nash, W.P., Silva, C., & Maguen, S. (2009). “Moral injury and moral repair in war veterans: A preliminary model and intervention strategy.” Clinical Psychology Review, 29(8), 695–706.

• Shay, J. (2014). “Moral Injury.” Psychoanalytic Psychology, 31(2), 182–191. See also Achilles in Vietnam: Combat Trauma and the Undoing of Character (Atheneum, 1994).

• Freyd, J.J., betrayal trauma theory and institutional betrayal — Freyd Dynamics Lab, University of Oregon.

• Jones, T.W., Power, J., & Jones, T.M. (2022). “Religious trauma and moral injury from LGBTQA+ conversion practices.” Social Science & Medicine, 305, 115040.

• The Moral Injury Project, Syracuse University — moralinjuryproject.syr.edu

Back in 2020, when the young people of the International Churches of Christ (my former fellowship) started using their voices, they were labeled as rebellious and divisive, bitter and worldly. A few leaders paid attention, but on the whole, there was a strong desire to shut them down. It was inconvenient. Who wants to admit the church needed to change? Had we not repented already back in 2003?

So the kids were vilified, excommunicated, and painted as renegades. Those of us who paid attention and actually listened tried to advocate for them. Even if the young people did not always use the right or acceptable “tone” or language, they were speaking from their hearts and were appealing for change. In the process, the adults who supported them were also labeled: progressive, too liberal, divisive, etc. I know; I was one of those people.

So the kids went from wanting to bring change to being rejected and ostracized. And they left. Well done, church! You win. Get those pesky kids out of the way!

But wait!… Those were the children of the church, the ones we had nursed and nurtured, the future generation we had placed so much hope in. The majority of the kids who spoke up were incredibly bright, well-educated, and knew their Bibles better than many adults. So did the church actually win?

Fast forward to 2026. The kids are peeling off the lid. They are letting the cats out of the bags. Not in a mean or vindictive way, but they are revealing the ugly parts of the church. Referring to yesterday’s post, they are talking more and more openly about the abuse that went on in homes behind closed doors, the domestic violence they witnessed, the angry fathers, the sexual abuse, the fear-based and trauma-inducing teaching.

They are shining a light on the dysfunction and the toxicity. A lot of them are leaving, finding other churches, or doubting the very faith that raised them. The ones who stay often do so out of habit or not wanting to rock the boat. And some are not affected and seem to be coping just fine. At least for now.

We are in the midst of a reckoning, and our children are at the forefront of it. It would bode well for us to listen and pay attention. The health of our families requires it, as well as that of the churches. I firmly believe that God is using our children to wake us up and open our eyes. Let us be wise. What will history say about us twenty years from now?

I know I have written about corporal punishment before, and how I violated my own conscience by spanking my children when they were young, because of what the church taught. The moral injury from that is hard to fathom. The impact on my children is so heartbreaking. We have had open and vulnerable conversations in the last few years. It got to the point where my kids told me to stop apologizing. The guilt of a parent who raised their children in fundamentalist Christianity can be overwhelming.

One of my kids pointed out that what they experienced growing up was child abuse. They did not say it with resentment or hatred; they stated it as a fact. And I agree. This was a couple of years ago when I started my deconstruction and subsequently left my church. More recently, though, as more and more people reach out to me, I have heard some horror stories, and I am realizing that the physical violence against children was much worse than I suspected.

In a special series for my paid subscribers, I am writing my life story in instalments once a week. I recently posted something about the physical and emotional abuse I suffered at the hands of my father. He did not claim to follow Jesus when I was growing up, and he repented of his ways when he decided to be a Christian. We had some very healing conversations; he apologized, and I was able to forgive him. In my post, I describe the yelling, the daily beatings, the bruises, and the occasional punching to the point of blood.

Up until recently, I assumed that what I grew up with did not happen in the church. That was something that happened “in the world”, as we used to say. Sadly, I have come to realize that my personal story sounds all too familiar to young people raised in so-called Christian fellowships. Sometimes, I cannot believe what I am hearing. Spanking was bad enough, but young people, including children of leaders (secular or full-time ministry), talk about the same kind of violence I experienced as a child. And this happened at the hands of very respected parents, people who teach classes on how to raise a family. Let us not assume that this happens only in the homes of “weak” Christians. Oh, to have cameras inside of those homes!

Young people have described relentless spanking, being beaten with belts well into adulthood, being punched and kicked to the point of blood, yelled at and demeaned, and made to feel worthless. At the same time, they watched their parents be respected in the church and live a double life.

Then we wonder why so many are leaving, why so many are scarred. We need to repent in sackcloth and ashes in front of our kids if we have behaved in this way. Our kids love us, and I have found them to be incredibly gracious and forgiving, but a heartfelt apology will go a long way. The emotional scars are deep and will follow them for many years to come.

This is an issue that needs to be exposed and talked about. No euphemisms, please. No “I lost my temper with my child” or “I was impatient”. Be real. Use accurate words to describe what happened. Then only can the guilt be lifted and the healing begin, both for the kids and for the parents. Of course, not all parents did/do this, but it is a lot more common than we think. And those who did behave this way with their kids probably believe they were/are the only ones, so opening up is a painful prospect full of shame. Knowing this is a pattern in a toxic system can help open the door to honest confessions and a hope for change.

If you can find the courage and you were treated this way, talk about it. If your parents are open to it, have those conversations. If they are not, do not stay quiet. Get therapy if you can, and let people know. Do not keep it to yourself. And if you are a parent and have guilt over the abuse we inflicted on our kids, do the same thing. Talk, apologize, and get help.

I have always loved academia. It started at a young age. In my teenage years, I soaked up knowledge. I loved learning and reading. I enjoyed healthy debates, intellectual conversations, and current affairs. I was, and still am, a news junkie. I am very active on social media. If social media had existed in my youth, I would have been on it! I have always been very curious. Most of the time, it is good. Sometimes, that curiosity has landed me in trouble, as I described in my previous instalment.

Read more

Just an update, guys. I will resume writing regularly, but the last few days have been hectic. As many of you know, Nepal was struck by an unimaginable disaster a few days ago. Hundreds, probably thousands, died, and thousands more are missing, after a wave of water, mud, and debris swept through a valley on the Nepal/Tibet border.

Those who know me also know that Nepal has a special place in my heart. I have been involved with supporting underserved populations in Nepal for the last 32 years. I spent the last five years in Kathmandu, and after relocating to New Delhi, India, I visit Nepal every couple of months.

I will be going next week to provide capacity building and training. The team of Asha Sansar, the NGO I support, is already in the disaster zone, delivering emergency relief supplies (water filters, food rations, hygiene products, etc). Our Country Director and our Board President both went along with a few other partners.

When you support my Substack as a paid subscriber, I use the money to help fund programs such as this one. I am working on fundraising right now to provide assistance to the victims of this terrible tragedy. If you wish to contribute, you can become a paid subscriber to my Substack, or you can message me, and I will send you more information on ways to give. Thank you!

Several people have messaged me, asking for resources. I am no expert, and I do not necessarily endorse everything in the materials below. You will have to make up your own mind, but here are a few resources that may be helpful.

Read more

Let’s talk about something that is not often talked about. When one or more members of a family start deconstructing or decide to leave the church they have been a part of for many years, but the rest of the family are still in, it can be a very challenging situation.

When someone becomes a Christian or joins a particular church, it can create tension in the family. Parents worry about their children, or spouses feel they may lose their partner. In some more controlling churches, a boyfriend or girlfriend may be advised to break up in order to not be “unequally yoked”.

In the same way, when a spouse, partner, child, or parent decides to leave their church, the same spirit of discord can occur. It is painful and difficult. Even in the best situations, it can create a wedge in the relationship. Not going to church together, not wanting to interact with certain people, having different views on certain topics and life choices- all of those can be awkward. In the worst cases, this can lead to divorce or estrangement, which is heartbreaking and agonizing for all involved.

Some families navigate this with grace, love, and acceptance. I really believe this is the way to go. Everyone has their own timeline. So much depends on personal experience, geography, size of church, local culture, etc. When I became a Christian, everyone in my family also became Christians and joined the church. When one of my brothers left the church a few years later, I did not handle it well. I was harsh and judgmental. It really hurt our relationship. Thank God we repaired things in subsequent years.

In the last few years, one of my children left the church we were part of for decades; another left and joined another church; two others are still in; and one was never a member. I then left, and my husband decided to join me. My brother is now also hosting an independent house church. I really appreciate the grace everyone has shown to one another. There have been hiccups here and there, but overall, I am very, very proud of everyone and how we have handled and are still handling all these transitions. It has not been and continues not to be easy, but we are all putting our love for one another above church allegiance.

We cannot weaponize Matt 12:48 (“He replied to him, “Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?”) to destroy families. Let us show patience and grace to others who may not be on the same timeline or have a different journey. Grace for those who leave and grace for those who stay.

Once I rebelled, there were no boundaries. I rushed full on into the freedom I was denied. I lied to my parents, defied their every guidance, attended all-night parties, ignored notions of right and wrong, and experimented with almost everything.

Read more

That famous line from Grey’s Anatomy, “Pick me!” is iconic. A girl desperate to be loved by a man who is not a good fit. Sheer yearning for acceptance, followed by disappointment and hurt. Hence the term “Pick-me girl”.

I had the privilege of interviewing , along with her siblings, a couple of months ago. She is the eldest of the three and currently a graduate student of divinity at Harvard. Kayci is articulate, smart, and incredibly talented. She writes a blog on Substack, . Please give her a follow. She is bold and uses her voice to put words to what so many of her generation have and are feeling.

Kayci grew up in the International Churches of Christ, in what would be considered a “prominent family”. She was one of the “good girls”, yet ended up having many negative experiences. She left the church several years ago. Her siblings and parents followed suit in the following years. Kayci’s voice is important. We need to care enough to understand why young, bright people like Kayci end up leaving. Most of the kids raised in church do. Why? What happened to them?

Read Kayci’s article below:

“Then they can urge the younger women to love their husbands and children, to be self-controlled and pure, to be busy at home, to be kind, and to be subject to their husbands, so that no one will malign the word of God.”
Titus 2:4-5
The defining culture of my childhood was not Black, white, or the Jersey shore; it was the International Churches of Christ. The words I used, the friends I made, and the rules I followed came almost entirely from the church, as did the fears that kept me up at night. My little sister and I each used to have a similar recurring nightmare where we were being kidnapped by a stranger. When we called out for our parents, instead of stepping in to save us, they would scold us, telling us to mind manners. In my waking hours, I was not afraid of being kidnapped—our parents protected us fiercely—but the messages I heard on Sundays and Wednesdays and most days in between did instill two fears deep in my young heart. Of them, I’m not sure which terrified me more: going to hell or not getting married.

Hell is an objectively horrifying concept. Its purpose is to terrify. When I was young, one summer felt like an eternity. And if the heat of pavement or scalding bathwater that only touched the bottoms of my feet could make me scream out in pain, what would it feel like to have my entire body engulfed in flames? I am not sure what little minds are meant to do with the picture churches paint of hell, but by fourteen I had resolved to deny myself in this life (an admittedly short-lived resolution) hoping to avoid burning for eternity in the next.

My other fear was more imminent and harder to avoid. In the International Churches of Christ (ICOC), at least back in my day, dating outside of the church was not an option. Until I was in middle school, the church taught that only disciples in the ICOC would enter the kingdom of heaven. This meant that even if you fell in love with someone who claimed to be a Christian, if they had not been baptized within the ICOC — which almost always required completing a Bible study series standardized across ICOC regions — the church would not recognize them as a true disciple of Jesus. This meant any relationship with a non-ICOC member would be viewed as being yoked with an unbeliever, and would often lead to disfellowship. As a child born and raised in this church, I did not consider dating or marrying outside of the ICOC to be an option.

There was no spoken rule that said getting married young was best or right or holy, but there were strict rules about premarital sex and there were rounds of applause at the altar for the couples who saved their first kiss for their wedding day. I do not think I was alone in my belief that, beyond being a daughter of God, the very best thing I could become in this life was a wife and mother. After all, who is the Proverbs 31 woman without a husband to serve and a household to feed? But on Women’s Days, I learned that it wasn’t God’s plan for every woman to get to be these very best things.

Women’s Days were those special Sundays when I got to hear women preach, as there were no men or boys sitting in our makeshift pews. Usually, the radiant young wife of an evangelist or the silver-haired wife of an elder whose nest had long been empty would open the morning with a bright smile and an upbeat prayer. Next, we would hear the moving testimonies of women who had tasted the bitterness of the world outside the church before their lives were transformed by God’s word. Often, an older, single woman would also take the stage to share a tearful testimony that included her somber yet faithful surrender to a life without romantic love.

“God makes us a lot of promises, but a husband is not one of them.”

Sometimes the woman would say it herself, but sometimes it would be the evangelist’s wife who took the microphone after her. She would thank the older, single woman for sharing, and then take the opportunity to “encourage” all the single women in the audience with the reminder that Jesus was their true love, and that their real prize awaited in heaven.

I remember trying to think of any older, single men, and coming up with none, at least none that seemed to long for marriage. In the ICOC, we interpreted scripture in ways that reinforced what ratios determined, it was the men who did the choosing. Thinking back, I would guess that the women I remember as old and unchosen were in their thirties, maybe their early forties. I often wonder how different their lives might have looked if the church had given them the space to date outside its membership, or if they had given themselves the space to live outside ICOC control, instead of proving their loyalty to God by giving up on what sounded to me like the desires of their hearts. Working with only the small pieces of their stories I had access to and the pity I read in the eyes of other women in the congregation, my young heart broke for them. Still, I suspect it was at one of these Women’s Days that I became determined not to join them in their fate. If my fear of hell taught me to shrink myself for God, my fear of living life alone taught me to shrink myself for men. I would be chosen. Someone would choose me.

It’s been a really long time since I believed in hell. I went to a lecture my sophomore year of college that blew the lid off the theology I had been handed. I learned that the fiery and eternal concept of hell I was raised on was shockingly modern, and came way more from Dante than it did from Jesus. It would take me a few more years to leave the church, but with a little bit of new information, I was free of the fear that had tied me to this very specific way of being and believing. I’m not afraid of hell because I don’t believe it exists. But I am still afraid of ending up alone. That possibility remains very real.

These days, there’s a word for what the scarcity of dating and shame of singleness within the ICOC was quietly training me to be. We call her a “pick me”. A woman who makes herself smaller, easier, and “not like the other girls” in hopes that someone will choose her. This isn’t how I think of myself. I pride myself in being bold, loud, and the type of woman who knows her worth, but this summer I’ve been reflecting on all the ways I have groveled in hopes of being chosen: keeping my expectations low, trying not to need anything, and swallowing what hurts. I’ve realized that even though I’ve freed myself in so many ways, I am still operating on a fear that was instilled in me as a little girl in those makeshift pews on Women’s Day. At thirty-four, I’m wondering if this is why I am so hesitant to hit block and so quick to give that fourth or fifth or sixth chance to a lover who does not deserve it. I’m asking myself how different my own life might look if I had been conditioned to view romantic love with less scarcity or to see myself as the one who gets to do the choosing.”

After I posted my article on women’s retreats, several people requested one on marriage retreats. I stopped going to those well before I left my church. They had become somewhat irrelevant to my husband and me. Over the years, as I came to realize the negative impact of patriarchy and role theology, I lost interest.

I want to say right off the bat that Mark and I led and facilitated many awful marriage retreats and workshops (and maybe some good ones too). I remember one particular one in London, where I immediately felt something was off about the way we had conducted our marriage retreat. We had focused so much on evangelism that we missed the point of marriage spiritual formation. I did not have the language at the time, but I felt it in my gut.

So let us see… What was good? For many couples, if the retreat was out of town, it was a nice way to get away from the hustle and bustle of daily life, a break from the children, and a change of scenery. In the Western world, a comfortable hotel room and food you did not have to cook were a nice experience. Hanging out with friends. Sometimes the lessons were really good, depending on who the speakers were.

What about the not-so-good? Many things come to mind. I will address the first one, which is where Mark and I failed. In our drive for evangelism, we used the marriage workshops (we did not do many actual retreats for financial reasons, as we led mostly in the UK and South Asia) to bring new people to church, so the messages were heavily geared that way. It must have been disappointing for people who expected help with their actual marriage.

Not that we could have helped very much. We were not trained marriage counselors. And that was another issue. I never attended a marriage retreat taught by actual trained counselors, except maybe once. I know that has changed a little, at least in some US cases, but it is still rare.

One-size-fits-all: everyone was supposed to have the same marriage dynamic. The husband leads, the wife follows, and so do the kids. There was very little awareness of multicultural settings. The model was and still is a white Western evangelical one. If that is what people want, that is their choice, but most of the world does not live that way or want it that way.

The lessons were heavily influenced by the men. There would usually be a session for the wives, but the main lessons were taught by the men with sometimes some sharing by the women. That is problematic in itself, as the audience got to hear more from the man’s perspective.

The heavy emphasis on sex, at least in the US. I remember cringing at the lessons, the innuendos, the sleazy talk, the TMI, the way women were objectified by their husbands, the crude jokes. Yuck. I hated that. Thankfully, my husband did not do that, but I heard a lot of bedroom talk I did not want to know. And I am not a prude. Some stuff is private.

Some of the teaching was really toxic. I remember being asked by a prominent elder’s wife in a marriage class how many of us had sex with our husbands every day. Yes, we had to raise our hands. She boasted that she did. I was like, sorry, but no way. And the expectation that if the husband wanted it, the wife had to comply. That toxic expectation led to much grief and, sadly, many cases of marital rape.

Forced attendance: some of us decided along the way that we would not show up. If people asked, we would just say we were not going. As leaders and former leaders, we had a little more confidence to say no, but I dread to think of what it was/is like for members who feel they cannot say no without being grilled and pressured.

The cost: those retreats were/are expensive! That is why Mark and I usually did workshops in-house rather than go away somewhere. We also led churches in less wealthy places. Forking out hundreds of dollars in this economy for a weekend you might or might not enjoy is unreasonable. Did the church staff, who made the decisions, have to pay too? In most churches, they didn’t/don’t. I appreciate my husband for always expecting everyone to pay for themselves. That caused some grumbling on staff at times, but our philosophy was that if we expect others to pay, we should too. Yes, we did the work to plan and run the retreats, but the regular members had full-time jobs too!

Finding babysitters. This was such a hard one. And of course, the young people in the church were expected to take that on, often at no pay. I am incredibly grateful for the ones who helped us over the years. But it was nerve-racking for the parents, knowing their kids were left with often inexperienced babysitters, even if those helping were good-hearted.

This is not about bashing my old church. This is about exposing dysfunctional and harmful practices that have nothing to do with our followership of Jesus. I credit our having a good marriage after 40 years to staying away from a lot of this stuff. And to the ones we subjected to our flawed marriage teaching and over-emphasis on evangelism, I am really sorry.

Photo taken from the Roys Report article

I had another post scheduled for today, but this morning, a lawyer friend of mine from the US sent me this piece of news. I have been saying the chickens are coming to roost and a reckoning is coming. It is happening!

The Roys Report published an article yesterday, announcing a new website by a Florida-based organization (ProtestantAccountability.org). It exposes the names of church leaders who have been accused of abusing children or vulnerable adults. The goal is to make public the names of such individuals, so they are not able to recidivate or be hired with impunity. The list includes pastors, sons of pastors, worship leaders, and youth leaders. You can do a search, and you may find names you are familiar with. The founder of my former church is indeed included.

This will be really useful as churches hire pastors, worship leaders, or youth workers. It will also be a great source of information for the general public. Too often, past abuse is hidden, and predators keep offending in new places.

It is not random. My understanding is that there needs to be some sort of complaint already registered, or a lawsuit, or a news report, in order to add a name to this list. I hope and pray it will give courage to survivors of abuse, and give them the confidence to come forward.

Just this morning, I heard another report of a young woman in my former denomination who was assaulted by a pastor’s son. This is a recent event. That young man is also working for a church. There needs to be accountability! Most victims I speak with or hear about do not want to go public. They would much rather stay silent and move on with their lives. Being retraumatized is not an appealing prospect. Maybe this website will provide more support and validation.

I endured them. I did not enjoy them. Every so often, the women of a church would go away for a couple of days to spend time together in the countryside or at some retreat center. I did not go to many of them, as I spent many years in the Global South, where women could not afford such events. The ones I did go to were a bit of a challenge.

I suspect I was not the only one to feel that way. There is an assumption in church circles that women must enjoy what are considered “girly” things, such as paint-and-sip, craft activities, messages on insecurity and being content, makeovers, yoga, and such. I personally do not enjoy such activities, and I know I am not the only one.

Do I enjoy time with my girlfriends? Of course I do. But I am not a “girly girl” (whatever that means). Some of the stuff I love would be very boring for someone else. I love books, philosophical debates, current affairs, museums, concerts (classical music, jazz, opera, and rock). I love crime novels and political suspense movies.

I am aware of the fact that everyone is different. The problem in church is that women are assumed to like the “girly” stuff, and so everyone was roped into those “ladies” events. I did hear of some hardcore wilderness retreats in Alaska, but those were outliers.

It left women like me feeling out of place. And of course, suggesting something different would have been seen as being difficult, contrary, and ungrateful. This highlights a wider issue in Christianity. Women are expected to fit a certain mold, and if you don’t align, you either go along and hate it, or you don’t participate.

In the same way the church should not assume that every man loves sports, it also should not assume every woman likes fashion and craft activities. This is a way to dumb down women and their influence in the church, to contain them. I appreciate the churches that have opened up to other activities for women.

If we are going to attract young, ambitious, and adventurous young women to discipleship, we have to present it in a way that is appealing to them and their world. We do not live in the 1950s anymore. We are not Stepford Wives. There is nothing wrong with liking activities such as crafting or fashion shows, but there needs to be space for variety. Doing a survey and asking women what they want may be a good step. The topics discussed at these events should also be broader and go beyond the usual subjects. There are so many current issues affecting women that would make great topics for women’s retreats.

There are very few photos of me in my teenage years. This is me in my late teens.

Around the age of twelve, I started rebelling. I went from a shy, very subdued, and scared little girl to a more feisty version of myself. It started with getting a taste of adventure, lying to my parents, and hanging out with “bad boys”. I would sneak out, go to parties, smoke, use foul language, dress in a more provocative way, etc. In any friend group, I was always the wildest one. If trouble was to be had, I was at the center.

Read more

We started the women’s economic empowerment program in New Delhi two months ago, after first teaching the women literacy classes. The program is called “Naari Shakti” (“The Strength of Women”). Indeed, these women are incredibly strong. And if you are a paid subscriber, the funds I raise through this blog go to the women of this program and the children of the Asha School in Kathmandu, so I wanted to give you an update.

Yesterday was India’s 80th Independence Day. The program held a celebration, and the women put on a fashion show to display the clothes they had made. Bear in mind that these women knew nothing about tailoring or using sewing machines until two months ago. They come from very traditional families and have had very little freedom. Even coming out of their homes is a huge hurdle. The program managers often have to ask permission from the men in the households.

In those two short months, the women have learned to design, cut, and stitch beautiful outfits such as the one in the video. I personally check the quality of the workmanship, and it is top-notch. I have asked the women to make clothes that we can sell, so we will be able to get some income to reinvest in the program.

What impresses me most is the enthusiasm, eagerness, and dedication the women have shown. They are learning so fast! And they love having fun! I have great respect for them. If I lived in the conditions they do, I don’t think I would have the same resilience they display. These women are my heroes, and they are teaching me so much!

Thank you for your support. If you wish to become a paid subscriber ($8 a month or $80 a year), please know your money is well used. $5,000 a year allows us to train over 100 women in job skills. If you already subscribe and wish to upgrade to a paid subscription, please do so. Your contribution is literally changing the lives of not just the women, but their whole family as well.

Ten years ago, I was introduced to the Bema podcast. At the time, I found it really interesting. I loved the emphasis on gentle leadership, including the weak and the vulnerable in the midst of the community, and the telling of the story of God and its people.

As I made the hard decision to leave my fellowship, all leadership roles, and resign from my job at the non-profit linked to the church three years ago, I shared my journey with Marty Solomon. I had never met him in person, but he was incredibly supportive and understanding. Since then, I have kept in touch with him, sent him updates, and every time I write him a message, he replies in the most personal and kind way. He follows my blog, and I am honored.

Marty and his team have been revising and updating the first couple of seasons. It’s been ten years after all, and a lot has happened. The Bible remains the same, but we have evolved as followers of Jesus. The last ten years have been life-changing for so many!

I go swimming every day for one hour and twenty minutes. I need to take care of my health, but I get bored easily, so I have been listening to podcasts on my waterproof headset. The Bible for Normal People has been great, and I recently started re-listening to the Bema podcast. I shared with Marty how differently it hits after my exit from my former church. Now that we host a home fellowship, so much of what the Bema podcast is about makes sense. It is so very encouraging.

I really enjoyed the desert episodes in Season 1, where Marty and his team talk about trees providing shade, wadis providing water, etc. The imagery and significance are uplifting. Marty did a great job explaining all about the acacia tree and the shade it provides in a desert environment. He then asked the listeners if they have been providing shade for others. Are we a source of respite for people who are struggling? Are we a place of rest? Great question.

If you have not listened to the Bema podcast yet, I would encourage you to give it a go. It is academic but not in a boring way. Marty has a team of younger men and women who share the lessons with him. They are real, fun, and knowledgeable.

For those of you who know me, you will remember that I would always share about waking up with crippling anxiety every morning. I was always worried when I woke up. Then I would pray, and the rest of the day would be fine. Of course, this drove me to depend on God, which was good, but the deep-seated early morning anxiety was very unpleasant.

I woke up with a realization yesterday. It suddenly dawned on me as I opened my eyes that I did not wake up anxious anymore. It probably stopped a while ago, but I only paid attention yesterday. So I reflected on why I would be so worried when I opened my eyes for years on end, decades even.

I am someone who strives for excellence. It was drilled into me at a young age. So I want to do everything well. No shortcuts or half-baked jobs. I also want to be true to myself and have integrity in my interactions. I set myself high goals in everything I do. Working in a church or para-church environment with high expectations (unrealistic, I may say) reinforced that tendency.

I also do not suffer fools, and I stand up for myself and others. If I disagree with something, or if my conscience is bothered, I will speak up. This led to having many difficult conversations and fighting many battles over the years. Every day brought difficult interactions, and the anticipation of that was the main reason for my anxiety.

As a woman working in a high-control patriarchal setting, life felt like a constant battle. Difficult conversation after difficult conversation. Disagreement after disagreement. Having to fight for my voice to be heard. Having to work three times as hard as my male counterparts to have a place at the table.

I stepped out of that environment two and a half years ago (I decided three years ago, but I actually left two and a half years ago), and gradually my circumstances changed. In the beginning, I was still having to engage with challenging conversations, but now I have my boundaries in place. So that has helped a lot. I can say no to conversations I do not want to have. I can also disagree without an explanation.

Occasionally, I still engage because the mama bear in me gets activated, or I advocate for others, but overall, my life has changed a lot. I only need to have difficult interactions once in a while, and when I do, they do not affect my life outcomes, my livelihood, my future, or that of my family.

Writing this blog and getting therapy have also been incredibly validating. My therapist would often ask me how I felt, and every time, I would say “validated”. I was not crazy for thinking the way I did. I was actually the normal or sane, rational one. This blog has connected me with so many amazing writers in the same ecosystem of spiritual deconstruction after being involved in toxic religion. They have been so encouraging!

The response to this blog has also been so unexpected. I started writing it for myself and my close friends, but it is now reaching far and wide. I receive so many messages of gratitude and validation. I am not doing it for those reasons, but the fact that my posts are resonating with so many is really encouraging. Every time I think maybe I am done and I have written enough, someone will say not to stop. Right now, it is so valuable to so many. I suppose that hearing a former leader agree with and validate what so many members have experienced is healing.

So the early morning anxiety has gone. Just like that. By itself. And my nervous system is thankful. I do not wake up with knots in my stomach and a desperate need to pray. I still pray, but not with the same motivation. It is probably a good thing. I know it is a long road of recovery, and I will discover more and more in the next few months and years, so here we are today, with this new realization. And it feels good.

“Need is not merely a lack, an emptiness. It is also a place. It is the place, like a dance floor, where receiving and giving can join, awkwardly at first but steadily learning to move together in shared rhythms, intimate and bound to one another.” (p.193)

This is an excellent little book. It resonated with me because it reminded me of why I do what I do. For those of us working in underserved communities, a very important principle is that of reciprocal relationships. We do not go into a neighborhood thinking we know better or that we are better. We realize that the people we “serve” are serving us also, and we have much to learn from one another. We also need one another.

This book explains this principle very well. Communities, including the ones seen as “stronger”, the helpers, so to speak, also have needs, and those needs are met by the very people they are supposed to serve. “I’m convinced that the building of Christian community is the work of God from beginning to end. I now think all it requires of us is that we keep showing up, that we faithfully respond to the needs of others who are also showing up, and finally, that we are willing to let our own needs be exposed in front of those trusted fellow pilgrims with whom we share this journey. After all, if I can learn to let go of my own pretense, my self-protective instincts, and my desire to be perceived as a strong, independent, and autonomous person who “has it all together”, how could I ever foster any real relationship with another person?” (p.16)

When we express our need, it opens the door to hospitality and invites the other person to become a host, and not just a guest. Then the lines blur between host and guest. That is true mutuality. It removes all feelings of superiority and arrogance, all ambitions of saviorism and colonialism. Lives are truly changed, and the transformation happens to all involved. “The hospitality of need is an antidote for shallow, impotent Christianity. Whenever we follow Jesus into one another’s need, joining Him there in a dance of mutual care, we never emerge the same.” (p.196)

Jesus was such a great example in this regard. Even though he was the Son of God, he was never shy about expressing his human needs, and he let people serve him. The connections he built with strangers were instantaneous and real. “By inviting the virgin mother, the woman at the well, and the fishermen all into His need, He healed them.” (p.51). “Need is a fundamental human trait, so in order to meet us as one of us, Jesus had to have fundamental needs. Breath, sleep, food, company, solitude, laughter, tears; the needs of the incarnate Jesus were inextricably tethered to our need for Him.” (p.55)

The hospitality of need is messy. We humans, do not like mess. We like neat and tidy. We like relationships that are organized. Hierarchy is pleasing. Mutuality is more nuanced and gray. It is hard work. But the rewards are greater. I have enjoyed mentoring young people for many years, but the dynamics changed when, at the start of the pandemic, I started learning from the youth, and they have truly changed my life. I also came to India 40 years ago, thinking I had something to give. Maybe I did, but the people of this beautiful part of the world have met my needs in ways I never imagined. But for that, I had to open my heart and treat them as partners.

The book talks about “koinonia”, which means deep fellowship, intimate spiritual connection. The authors of the book are a man who is wheelchair-bound (Kevan) and his minister friend (Tommy), who is his “helper”. They describe their beautiful relationship. “This overwhelming need, however, becomes an invitation. It beckons others in their church to press beyond polite coffee-and-donuts fellowship and into true Christian fellowship, what the Bible calls koinonia. When that invitation is answered, it begins a cascade of life together that many believers had never experienced before.” (p.194)

I was ten years old, sitting on a bus on the way back from my great-aunt’s house in the French countryside, staring at the clouds and day-dreaming. My parents did not mollycoddle me. They raised me to be independent. They trusted me to take the 100-mile bus ride by myself. That gave me a lot of time to think. I day-dreamed a lot as a child. And as I did so, I dreamed about being a change-maker.

Read more

What drew me to Substack was the authenticity, the rawness of the writing. I found a community of like-minded Christian writers who rejected hypocrisy and abusive churches. I didn’t care for how smooth the style was. I wanted transparency and honesty.

English is not my first language, so my writing was never going to win prizes. But I found my niche and my voice. I write short, heartfelt pieces. I do not agonize over the grammar, nor do I aim to sound scholarly. My blog has resonated with many, and I am grateful it is bringing validation and healing to so many who have felt alone.

I always had a niggling hunch at the back of my head when reading some writers’ posts. They sounded so polished, almost too polished. But who am I to judge? It didn’t particularly bother me. It just seemed odd. I know writers whose spoken English is mistake-riddled, but their written posts are perfect. Almost as if someone else had written them. No problem. I try to focus on the content.

Then Substack introduced Pangram, the AI-detecting tool. I am not against AI. I love a good spell check, and I will often get a quick answer to a question by using AI. But I decided to have some fun and scan Substack articles for AI use. I found that about half the people I read do not use AI, many use AI assistance, and lo and behold, some have AI write their posts! I was shocked by the last one.

Using AI to help is one thing. Having AI write a whole post is troubling. I personally do not use AI when I write on Substack. I want my readers to get the real me, mistakes and all. What you get here is what you would get in a face-to-face conversation. No judgment if you use it to help. To each their own. But to have AI actually do the writing for you? Sorry, you’ve lost me. It seems a little too disingenuous.

Another interesting observation. Men tend to be more likely to use AI in their writing. Caveat: some of the men I respect the most on this platform actually do not use it at all, and I can feel the difference when I read their articles. It is hard to put my finger on it, but there is just a different feel to their writing. However, more women than men write without AI.

I have my thoughts on all of this. I think women tend to write from the heart a little more. Authenticity and honesty are highly prized by women. Maybe we have been mistreated and manipulated a bit more, so we tend to be a little more circumspect. I know these are generalizations and not true in every case, but there is definitely a trend. I scanned enough articles to notice the difference. I have also interacted on a personal level with many of the writers I follow on Substack. The women who write here tend to write from a visceral and raw place, and I love that.

No slur on the guys. There are amazing writers here, and I learn a lot from them too. I simply noticed a difference. It is interesting. And don’t tell me men are more attracted to technology and that’s why they use AI more. I do not believe that is true anymore. Maybe 30 years ago, but not today.

Anyway, whether you use AI or not, I will continue to read. It is just good to be informed. If an article is written by AI, I will keep that in mind. If it is “fully human-written”, then I will overlook the spelling and grammatical errors, knowing it came straight from an imperfect person. Personally, I like that would be my preference.

This past week, thanks to your paid subscriptions, I was able to donate to both the Asha School in Kathmandu, Nepal, and to the Naari Shakti (Strong Women) empowerment program in New Delhi, India.

In Kathmandu, the money is going to sports coaching for the students, and in Delhi, we are buying sewing machines. The women are learning sewing skills very fast. They need a few more advanced sewing machines, better than the basic ones they started training on. The goal is for the women to start producing market-quality clothing and bags that they can sell to the public.

So thank you so much for your support! To give you an idea, a good-quality sewing machine costs US$150. A yearly subscription to my blog is $80, so for every two people who subscribe, we can buy a sewing machine. The women have never had a proper job before, so this is a huge step towards economic self-support. What it does to their self-esteem is hard to describe.

A huge thank you! If you can, please consider becoming a paid subscriber. The money goes a long way and makes a real difference in people’s lives!