I Found True Peace Walking Away From Church

 

What is peace? If you asked me as a fundamentalist, I would have answered “a peace of that passeth all understanding,” which because it was far beyond understanding, I never truly did, well, actually, understand it. I never felt peace in abuse. I never had piece of mind either. I just got through it. I wanted to have the capability to experience the peace that was preached but now I know it was simply not feasible in that environment.

For many years, I was led to believe that the issue was with me, not the church. If I did everything exactly as I was taught, as the man of God proclaimed, as the Bible “clearly” stated, then, I would no doubt have that peace they always talked about. But I did not. I felt like an anomaly. The odd one, that I was one that had deep wounds that I had caused to myself where peace evaded.

The irony is that I was always very confident in that world. I knew that I knew the teachings with my heart and my head. I knew the rules and believed in following them without question. I had skills in reading, researching and taking to heart the word of God. I did this all while knowing there was no place for this part of me in the church.

As a female, I couldn’t hold any real office, no authority position. I craved so much to be able to be an equal to men, especially spiritually. Salvation was a personal experience, but if you were a woman, after converting, you had no choice but to be led by a man. It no longer was a personal, one-on-one walk with God, not really. I mean, they would say that. But is it really when you are not allowed to have any part in leading yourself on your own, let alone others?

I know, I know, I have been so far removed from that world that maybe this is a bit deep, even for me to try and put into words. But yet, here I am trying to do just that. I have held this deep sense of frustration at the utter hypocrisy that I was submerged in for over twenty years. I still can feel the lingering impact of it in some ways now.

I’d like to share about that now…

Like I said, I was actually very confident in my knowledge in teachings, spirituality and knowing God’s will when I was in-group. I believed with every fiber of my being and then some. I prayed—oh, how I prayed! Out loud or even silently, in my heart, to God. I did so truly knowing he heard me. I knew he had my back. I knew he was strong enough to carry my hurt, handle the pain, and surround me with comfort that allowed me to drift off to sleep at night as a terrified and abused child.

When people often find out that I left an abusive religion, they sometimes can assume and then share those assumptions about my experience with me. A common misconception by many secular, religious people, or those who did not survive an abusive religious group is that victims weren’t true believers. Some survivors have that experience and that makes their experiences no less real, validated, and true. But for me, I was born and raised, and was a true believer as the saying goes. I did believe. I was a Christian. I was a fundamentalist. I was an Independent Fundamental Baptist.

Sometimes, I admit, it downright angers me that people have belittled my dedication back then. I understand that it is part of gaslighting, trying to minimize in order to silence my experiences, and even a byproduct of shunning. What I know is that I believed what the cult had conditioned me to believe… until one day, I didn’t anymore.

Awakening was anything but peaceful. It was terrifying. I felt like I was losing my ever-loving mind! But I wasn’t. I was actually coming to realize the reasons behind all the struggles, all the inward battles, and even the outward ones that I wasn’t looking for but kept finding me due to abusive spiritual leaders. You see, I never half-assed my dedication or commitment, or even how hard I worked for the church. I loved Jesus! I wanted to give him everything!

Feeling the awakening that the church was far from the Bible I had studied every day since I could read, that I prayed deeply to understand, that I wept and grieved with as a companion through so much loss and heartbreak was beyond words for me to express. I woke up and found out that I was beaten, bruised, and abused by Christians. But these “Christians” were also my family—both spiritual and biological. I had nowhere to turn but to myself.

I rebelled…. I mean, that’s how women and young people in IFB churches are seen when they start to question, when they try to protect themselves. I had this peace within me that made it so I couldn’t stay. It made it so I couldn’t shut my mouth. And the more that people responded with warnings to shut me up, the more I gained peace that walking away was the very best thing for me.

I didn’t know how to walk away but I also did not know how to stay. I just stopped showing up, both literally and figuratively. I stayed home, read my Bible and prayed hard. I noticed that my health was still bad off but the anxiety and triggers had remarkably calmed. I had that peace to stay out, stay far, far away from the abusers.

Later, I remember writing a letter to who had been my childhood best friend, a kind girl, that I still miss deeply on some days. (If for some reason you stumble upon this, I hope you one day leave, too. The kindness you shared with me as a child is not deserved in that awful world.) I received her heartfelt letter in the mail, worried that she somehow caused me to leave, walk away. I wrote back some powerful words. I told her that I found that the God we grew up with was a hateful, awful one that I could no longer follow. But I had found one that was much more loving. I found him while walking away from an angry church house.

Now, cue the rest of my story, the present day one if you will. Some people are sad to hear this part; others are not. But much like the abusive teachings I shed while leaving almost a decade ago, I, too, shed that faith. In its wake, I found truly a deep peace within my soul. It has been that way for years now and while I treasure it, sometimes, I forget that it’s there at all. It’s become my reality, my present, part of who I am.

And I’m not anti-religious. A common misconception is that those that leave their faith condemn all faiths. That’s simply not true for me. I condemn the abuse in faith everywhere, but I don’t condemn it altogether. But let’s be clear: as a victim of religious abuse, my experiences absolutely warrant that condemnation.

Instead, today, peace looks different than what was preached through the years. Today, it looks like a confidence in myself to make personal steps in healing, making a beautiful life for myself, taking in a favorite song, driving with a sunset that takes my breath, feeling light in the heart as the wind, it is being surrounded with those I love, it’s acceptance by others but mostly by myself to be proud of exactly of where I am.

Peace… I didn’t find it until I left the church.