“One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving.”

― Paulo Coelho

I think with sensitive topics - such as religious trauma - it’s important to have disclaimers attached, so here’s mine: these are personal thoughts and experiences. I am not a Bible/theology scholar. I am not a therapist. I’m simply sharing my stories with religious trauma because I think most people talk about this behind closed doors - or, are possibly too scared to even talk about it at all - and I think there’s power in openness and honesty. Again, I am not claiming to be an expert by any means, I’m just an individual with personal experiences and that’s what I’m sharing here.

Andddd away we go.

I’m going to do my best to unearth my inner Brené Brown to try and do this topic justice - though, I suspect, due to the complexity and depth and many many arms of this particular religious octopus, this will result in more than one written brief. Let’s dive in.

I mentioned in my initial essay, that I think fear is at the root of Christianity. And the further I look at that idea, the clearer it gets. Kind of like Monet’s water lilies or Degas’s dancers - from afar, it looks like a beautiful cohesive scene, but when you examine it up close, you see that it’s blocks of colors laid down beside each other. They were laid together strategically so they blend at a distance, but the closer you get, the more disconnected they become, and you can clearly see the fine print. When I began to translate the fine print, I saw Fear thoughtfully planted there - and the fertilizer in which Fear grows and feeds is: shame. Shame is the currency of Christianity.

The first step of evangelical Christianity is to believe that we are inherently bad, and the only lifeline we have to being good (or being a type of “good” that counts enough to get you the golden ticket to heaven) is Jesus. But… if we’re born into this world pure and wholly innocent, then isn’t human life, first and foremost, good? You can’t find an ounce of “bad” or “sin” on a newborn baby. I’m 30 years old, so I’m in an age bracket where a lot of my friends are starting to have all these beautiful babies. No matter how deeply I look into their big curious unclouded eyes, I could never ever think “you are an incredible, sweet, innocent, sparkling miracle, BUT *sigh* you’re also a marked sinner.” There’s no “BUT” it’s just “you are an incredible, sweet, innocent, sparkling miracle” PERIOD.

When I was about 7 years old, just before I said the sinner’s prayer to accept Christ into my heart, my parents carefully taught me why it was necessary. They told me all humans are sinners, and when we sin we are automatically sentenced to hell. In other words: because I make mistakes, because I’m not perfect, I am not good enough and I am not worthy of love. 

Before I continue on with my story, I’m just gunna drop the Merriam-Webster’s definition of shame right here: “a painful emotion caused by consciousness of guilt, shortcoming, or impropriety.”

And better yet, Brené Brown’s definition of shame: “I define shame as the intensely painful feeling or experience of believing that we are flawed and therefore unworthy of love and belonging - something we’ve experienced, done, or failed to do makes us unworthy of connection. I don’t believe shame is helpful or productive. In fact, I think shame is much more likely to be the source of destructive, hurtful behavior than the solution or cure. I think the fear of disconnection can make us dangerous.”

And now back to my “born again” moment: I vividly remember that my parents put together this interactive craft to help us understand why Christ was essential to our salvation. They laid out a bunch of black paper on the ground and had a dusting of baby powder next to it. They told us to take off our shoes, step in the baby powder, and try to walk across the black paper without leaving any footprints. They told us to pretend that the other side of the black paper void was “heaven” and the only way we can get into heaven, is by not leaving a single footprint. Obviously, we did not succeed. 

So then, they laid down a cross made out of 2x4s over the black paper and told us to try again. This time we got across - into “heaven” - without leaving a mark because we could walk on the cross. My parents asked if we understood how that was possible. We nodded. They explained that we need to give ourselves to Jesus, because he’ll carry us without leaving any marks. We don’t want to leave marks. Marks are bad. Marks mean we’re damned sinners. They asked if we wanted to accept Jesus into our heart and be saved - it was an offer we couldn’t risk to refuse.

In hindsight, I see that seemingly innocent craft in a very different light. I was blatantly told by the first two people to ever know and love me: I wasn’t enough. And then I was told that the only way I can save myself is to abandon myself. The only way to save myself is to make sure, no matter what, I don’t leave any footprints behind. The only way to save myself is to sacrifice my identity, my individuality, for an invisible savior groomed and shaped by the agenda of men.

I believed I was “freed” because I turned away from myself and turned toward Christ. I wasn’t “freed”, I was shamed into selling my soul. I wasn’t born again and given new life because Jesus died on the cross, I was nailed to the cross instead.

That’s just the first payment of shame Christianity demands. It’s not a one time payment, it’s a lifetime debt. It’s like those deals on infomercials, it seems like a bargain, seems so cheap, but then when you add up the 12 payments of $19.99 you realize you are spending $239.88 on a lousy mop that can’t perform half the miracles it did on TV. But in this case, you are shaming yourself over and over and over again to pay for God’s “love” (that’s often described as “unconditional” - which is a real head scratcher for me).

I’ve known several different types of human love: my family’s, my friend’s, and, of course, my husband’s (my favorite by far). No one that truly loves me has ever demanded that I feel ashamed of my imperfections and surrender my identity so I can be worthy of their love. In fact, any relationship that relies on shame and tries to persuade you to stop trusting yourself and give up control over your life sounds more like an coercive dictator, not like a “loving” heavenly father/savior/God (the Born Again Again podcast touches on this a lot, they explain it especially well in these two episodes here and here).

I’m thankful for my clarity now, but I mourn the years I was shackled to shame due to the misguided idea of “salvation”. How many opportunities have I missed? How many hateful prejudices did I unconsciously - or consciously - adopt? How many people were wounded by judgment I poised as “accountability”? How often did I feel uncomfortable about my larger-than-average boobs because I thought I was responsible for men’s thoughts? How many years will it take for me to own my sexuality? I still can’t separate shame from sex, and it normally takes an extra glass of wine for me to let down my guard long enough to actually enjoy it. That is after 7 years of being married and “allowed” to have sex. And yes, we shamed ourselves into waiting for marriage. 

What’s interesting about Christianity, is that it claims to relieve shame, it claims to redeem shame, but shame is the drug Christianity passes out at the party to keep people coming back for more. You’re not enough, you need Jesus. You’re prone to temptation, you need Jesus. Your intuition is wrong and worldly, you need Jesus. Nearly every worship song I belted out every Sunday morning was all about how I wasn’t enough, I wasn’t worthy, and how lucky I am to be given Jesus - reprogramming the shame-for-salvation cycle every week.

There’s an episode of New Girl where Jess and CeCe get blow outs. The guys ask them what a blow out is, and they explain that stylists use blow dryers to manipulate their hair to look better. Nick thought it was strange that a place would just blow dry hair, and Jess told him that they wash it first - he then scoffed and said, “so they create a problem, and then charge you to fix it?” That is exactly how I feel about my indoctrination of Christianity. My innocent 7-year-old self had no idea I was supposedly evil and deserving of hell until I was told (by my parents) that my imperfections made me unworthy of anything other than eternal damnation. Thankfully, for the low low cost of my entire soul, I could live out the rest of my days worshipping an insecure stingy deity while focusing on the exclusive fairytale of heaven.

And, for the record, even if Christianity’s idea of God is real, I don’t want anything to do with him. He’s an all-powerful being that only accepts blood and human sacrifice to atone for sin. Just look at the Old Testament, it sheds more blood than Game of Thrones - it’s just death on death on death. I know everyone loves to jump in with: “but Jesus! You have to remember Jesus and the New Testament!” Sure, okay, let’s talk about that. God decides to send his son Jesus (which is really himself), to atone for our sins. And at what cost? You guessed it: more death. And now, because Jesus died a gruesome death, we can get into heaven without anymore bloodshed by simply shaming ourselves on a regular basis. I remember being so awestruck and thankful that Jesus died for me, but now I’m just appalled. If human love can forgive and accept me without someone’s child being nailed to a cross, then human love is far superior to God’s disturbing definition of the word. God’s “love” is only offered when I repent for not being perfect. God’s “love” is only offered if I obey him. God’s “love” is only offered after bloodshed. If that’s the price of heaven, I’ll gladly go to hell.

For 23 years of my life I’ve lived with shame that was sewn on like Peter Pan’s shadow, but no more. I’m not going to walk on the cross, I’m going to leave footprints. I’m going to leave as many marks as I can. It’s taking a lot of practice and unlearning, but I’m going to continue to forgive myself of the baggage I still carry from Christianity’s prescribed shame. I have gladly exchanged Christ’s forgiveness and replaced it with my own.

“Now that she had nothing to lose, she was free.”

― Paulo Coelho

I have been binging episodes of the Born Again Again podcast, and it’s been sooo helpful - every subject is relatable, touches on thoughts I’ve had in leaving Christianity and offers insights I’ve needed. It’s like having two more friends that are talking through all this stuff with you. They also have an amazing Facebook community you can join - I recommend joining if you’ve deconstructed/deconverted, but especially if you’re starting to deconstruct/deconvert and you don’t have anyone amongst your friends or family that you can talk to about these things. You can find out about their group and other helpful resources they provide by clicking here.

Another great community source for anyone looking is this reddit group: r/ExChristian