Let's Talk about the Elephant in the Room

Published on 6 May 2024 at 13:40

The first thing I need to get off my chest, and something that weighs on my heart, is how my previous actions will have hurt people. So, please consider this blog post an open letter to anyone and everyone I may have hurt along the way to where I am now.

If you are one of those people; I apologise wholeheartedly if anything I have ever said or done anything that, when living a life following the evangelical Christian faith, hurt you, caused you trauma or brought pain to you. You don’t have to forgive me; I completely understand how painful some of my actions may have been.

Sometimes, I think back to what I used to believe… “hate the sin, love the sinner” or even holding the belief that it was my right to tell others how they should live their life. I honestly cringe at the memory. I feel sick at what I used to hold dear. Some days, I feel stuck about how to move forward, feeling like I’m standing in concrete, unable to tear my feet out to move forward. Some days I feel like I don’t know how to move forward.

I have spent the last two years in counselling, working through some of the stuff that has haunted me since I left my fundamentalist Christian community. It’s been nearly four years since I left, and I constantly battle with myself about what is true; about what is right; about whether things need to be true and right.

Because what I’ve realised is that things are not so clear cut; life is not a set of rules of right and wrong as evangelical Christianity leads you to believe. Life is intricate and individual, different things drive different people. Different people lead different lifestyles. And that’s ok; we don’t all have to fit into the evangelical box for what life should be.

So, where am I now?

I still believe in God and Jesus.

I don’t believe in organised religion.

I think organised religion can be harmful.

I believe fundamentalist evangelical Christianity is destructive.

As I sit with those words, they feel powerful. They are powerful... but not as powerful as the realisation of it was.

Leaving evangelical Christianity behind me has been an interesting experience. It feels like I have carved a chunk out of my soul. I thought it would leave me feeling empty – just how I was taught it would make me feel… but I feel enlightened and free.

Before I was told that I was ‘free from the chains of slavery’ (a metaphor that I feel wholly uncomfortable with), but now I feel as though I had been locked in prison by fundamentalist Christianity. It’s called ‘high control religion’ for a reason.

Evangelical Christianity is a strange one. They have guitars, drums, synthesizers and young people leading worship at the front, so it feels modern. The men (99% of the time) preaching at the front are funny and relatable, so it feels cool. It feels refreshing, to stand apart from the Church of England communities or Catholic churches. You want to bring your friends to it, you want them to realise that you are a cool Christian.  

BUT there are rules; oh gosh there are rules. Especially if you have grown up in the Church and therefore, should know better. It feels like there are different rules in the Church; the newer your faith is, the more grace you’re given. The older your faith is, the higher the standard you are held to.  It all feels rather hypocritical when the bible tells you that there is nothing you can do to win God’s grace; that he loves you the way you are, and you can’t do anything to change that.

I want to make it clear; I don’t think the leadership of the church I attended were evil. I sincerely loved them, and they meant a lot to me at the time. I think their hearts were in the right place, and they were doing what they believed was right. Unfortunately, when you are surrounded by the same voices, particularly that of other middle-aged, often conservative, white men, there is only one narrative you hear.

No matter how many token books you read by POC authors.  

So, what happened?

On 30 September 2020, I received a text from a leader at the church I attended.

This is a man who had been in my life for around twenty years. He had seen me grow from a child into a woman, and I had always had a great relationship with him. He baptised me, he gave me advice, he prayed for me and, one day, I envisaged that he would be the guy who’d minister at my wedding.

The text I received simply asked if I was at home. Obviously, I was, because it was the pandemic and I was working from home. It was 4pm by the time he arrived, and when he did, he handed me an envelope containing a letter. He explained that he had wanted to hand the letter to me in person, because he knew how it was going to affect me. He explained that he was handing the letter face-to-face to some people, and then posting it to others. He looked truly sorrowful and heartbroken to be handing me the letter. He explained it was about the church’s stance towards the LGBTQ+ community and explained (briefly) some other components of the letter. And then he left.

I can remember as I opened the letter, hands shaking and nausea in the pit of my stomach, hearing my housemates laughing in the next room. My housemates of whom were in a loving and committed same sex relationship. My housemates’ laughter echoed around me as I read a letter filled with hate about their lifestyle, masquerading as love.

The letter was addressing the ‘modern innovation’ of up-and-coming theology questioning the authenticity of the bible around homosexuality. In particular, this theology questioned whether, through the many translations of the bible, something had been lost or misunderstood in regards to homosexuality. This ‘modern’ theology, explained historical contexts around homosexuality during the time when the bible was written. A lot of it made sense to me; someone with a history degree who was taught to interrogate historical texts and understand the contexts in which they were set in.

But of course; in evangelical Christianity… the bible is ‘the word’ (even though the bible says that Jesus was the word, but they ignore that little blunder) and it absolutely cannot be wrong.

In the letter, it criticised ‘modern’ theology for cherry-picking bible verses to suit its narrative, and then (hilariously) cherry-picked bible verses to support its own argument.

As I read this letter, with the sounds of laughter echoing around me from the happiest couple I’d ever met, I had no idea how much this would affect me for YEARS to come. I then realised it was still only 4pm, and I actually had to be working (because it was a work day!) so I logged back into my computer, rang my colleague and burst into tears, speechless and unable to work through what had just happened to me; even though it felt like I had been hit by a truck.

Fast forward two months and I left the church with a lot of pain in my heart and trauma to process… although I didn’t realise it at the time.

So, how did I get to where I am today?

In 2022, I started counselling. I can remember that when I submitted my request for counselling, I had to explain what I wanted to get from it. I remember skimming over what had happened to me at Church and, instead, focussed on other trauma I had experienced when I was younger.

Then, during my first counselling session, I explained what had happened with the letter and my counsellor was astonished. In hindsight, I can see now that she understood this to be trauma I had not yet processed, but I told her that I was fine about it; I was cool; I had forgiven the leader and the church, and I was ready to find a new church. I was all good.  

Following this proclamation, I started attending a new church for a few weeks. I can’t remember what it was, but something really small triggered me, I stopped going to church and then two years of counselling ensued, unpicking everything about my religious background.

The biggest part that I had to work through, was when my counsellor asked me “who is Bethany?” and, in all honesty, I couldn’t answer her. I had created such a small life, that apart from the fact that I liked reading, I didn’t have any interests or a whole lot of understanding about myself.

And today? Today, I am a writer. Today, I am a rubbish gardener. Today, I am a reader. Today, I enjoy the little things in life. I am spiritual, I like exercise, I like punk music, I am considering getting a tattoo, I am considering more piercings, I am changing up my sense of style.

I am figuring out who I am outside of religion, and I kinda really like myself.

And I am free, for the first time in my life. And that feels incredible



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