Judge a man by his questions
rather than by his answers
~Voltaire
I continue to ask these questions. While some might believe they create bitterness or conflict, I hope they will lead us to a greater understanding. Stepping outside organized religion has enabled me to connect with the universe’s subtle messages and rhythms, allowing me to embrace the peace and solace I discover. My comfort arises not from a fixed belief system but from a continual pursuit of understanding that questions everything.
Who am I?
When I resigned from my pastor role, I was uncertain about my next steps. We had led small congregations for two decades, often rebuilding or planting churches. Throughout those years, I maintained a side career and cared for a young family. We had always believed we would dedicate our lives to ministry, but eventually, we understood it was no longer sustainable. The doubts became overwhelming, and our questions remained unanswered.
Stepping outside, it felt like we had entered a desert. This is the inspiration behind our blog and podcast, The Desert Sanctuary.
Involvement with our churches consumed a considerable amount of our time, including attending services and planning for future events. Over the years, I sensed a decline in my relationship with my family of origin as we dedicated holidays and other family time to ministry while others returned home.
Religion often fosters division, pushing us to invest significant time in our local church and its achievements.
A contemporary instance of this is “Trunk or Treat,” an event where church members park their cars at the church, allowing kids to trick-or-treat in one central location. This initiative clearly aims to attract families to the church, similar to children’s programs, where the church offers free babysitting during VBS or summer camps and invites parents for a presentation afterward. These activities remove people from their actual communities and involve them in manufactured associations that are often too homogeneous and rife with abuse and manipulation.
After stepping away from our church, we hoped to keep religion in our lives. I took on various manual labor jobs, and whenever I wasn’t too exhausted, I wanted to stay involved in church activities. We looked for a local place to attend but had no success. Eventually, we found a larger church in a bigger city about an hour away, where I spent two years learning new things and helping out whenever possible. When it became clear that this wasn’t working for us, we switched to a small Methodist church nearby, as it felt closer and easier to align with our beliefs at that time.
We recognized that despite being more progressive, the churches faced the same systemic issues. These challenges kept us occupied, preventing us from asking many questions or addressing our most profound needs. Throughout this period, we became increasingly trauma-informed, exploring beneficial practices and documenting our progress through our writings and the interviews conducted on our podcast.
PTSD
Like most people who go through a deconstruction process, we realized that we had a certain amount of PTSD from the ministry. Because we discovered things about ourselves, we also felt somewhat of an identity crisis.
When we stopped attending church, we recognized that we had overlooked our identities while prioritizing the corporate goals of the churches. We were taught it was noble to devote ourselves entirely to the church, placing Jesus and others before our own needs. Consequently, very little effort was made to uncover the uniqueness of individual church members, as we were encouraged to emulate Christ and conform to the group identity.
When that structure is removed, we understand how little effort we’ve invested in our mental health and nurturing a positive sense of self regarding who we are and our role in the world. This is reminiscent of other professions, where individuals are expected to devote themselves entirely to their profession, faith, or job. While we help realize others’ dreams, we often overlook our personal identity and mental well-being, prioritizing the collective good over our own needs.
My background and upbringing instilled in me the belief that discovering oneself was futile. I learned to seek my purpose in my actions for the organizations I was part of, rather than establishing a solid sense of self before exploring the world. As a young adult, I had little understanding of my identity beyond my involvement in high school sports. At that time, I could only express what I wanted to achieve.
So, I started doing things, and I became what I did and lost myself in the process.
What do I believe?
I went to an evangelical Christian school in junior high, and after that, we relocated to a smaller town in rural Oklahoma, where my experiences changed somewhat. Throughout my upbringing, I struggled with certain beliefs within Christianity, yet the pastors and clergy I encountered were generally unprepared to address my inquiries. For much of my youth and early adulthood, I avoided engaging with Christianity and paid little attention to my spiritual life or beliefs.
However, as I neared the completion of my bachelor’s degree and contemplated starting a family in Omaha, I discovered systematic theology. It offered a scientific approach to understanding Scripture and Christian doctrines. This became my pathway to leaving my job and committing to full-time ministry. It took me over two decades to exhaust this exploration, ultimately leading me to doubt much of it, including the sacred text I was taught not to question.
This sparked my intellectual curiosity, leading me to investigate various topics, even those deemed taboo in my upbringing. Unfortunately, religion suppressed this exploration, pushing me to embrace and support its doctrines while branding anything divergent as a threat.
For the first time ever, I had no restrictions on my exploration. I likened it to a toddler taking his or her first steps. Like that toddler, I felt immense joy chasing after my curiosities rather than treating them as threats.
As I explored new ideas and beliefs that resonated with me, I occasionally felt the urge to create something entirely different. However, once I recognized that I didn’t need to dedicate myself fully to anything or establish a new belief system, I could remain on a path of discovery. This allowed me to reveal insights that I had never encountered before, as well as the cult-like aspects of organized religion.
What do I like to do?
Last night, Laura and I visited a casino. We managed to eat quite affordably and then enjoyed some blackjack and slot games. It turned out to be a great opportunity for open communication, where we discussed what we liked and disliked about our experience. Next time we go, we can tailor the outing to fit both of our preferences. Unlike religion, which can be difficult to adapt to, we feel liberated to shape this experience according to our liking. In the past, we often worried about whether we belonged there.
It’s Sunday morning as I write this. Previously, I would have either attended Sunday school or got ready for a church sermon. There would have been a flurry of activity until just before noon, when we returned home to enjoy some favorite pastimes, like watching football or napping to recuperate from the day’s church events. Some even went further by designating it as family day, which feels like a weak attempt to foster communication and unity among family members.
Our lives are often dedicated to fulfilling our boss’s or the market’s demands in our professional lives. Then, we explore the expectations of the pastor and the church on a designated day. We compensate them for coordinating this day and offer our volunteer efforts to bring it to fruition.
But then, even our free time is consumed by religion. We were always given instructions on how to use our quiet time wisely and where to go and not go that would best serve the mission. We were encouraged not to do anything that would cast a bad light on the church or the cause of Christ.
Who am I?
Before we determine our life’s direction, we must invest time alone to understand ourselves. Once we grasp our identity, living authentically becomes possible, revealing our purpose and beliefs.
This is why I would never suggest remaining in the church while healing from religious trauma or seeking direction in your life. Religion often keeps us preoccupied with fulfilling the organization’s objectives rather than directing energy toward our personal growth. This focus is often viewed as self-centered and unaligned with the organization’s goals. Furthermore, churches may offer retreats that aren’t truly effective if we don’t take time away from the demands of the ministry, which could contribute to our issues.
When we earnestly explore our identity, I believe we will uncover it. In this journey of self-discovery, we might also encounter our wounds. The shame and trauma we reveal may stem from various experiences with the church, or perhaps these issues were overlooked as the church focused on other matters.
By being fully present, we gain deeper insights into ourselves, enhancing our ability to heal and grow to our full potential. In this process, we cultivate a keen intuition, and the necessary guides will likely show up just when needed.
If we start with a bunch of assumptions about truth and give ourselves to the group first, we may find that the church achieves its goals at our expense.
We need connection, but our identity is largely nurtured in solitude!
Keep asking good questions!
Be where you are, Be who you are, Be at peace!
Karl Forehand
Good Questions – Why Would God Require Worship?
Good Questions – Are we Addicted to Religion?
Good Questions – Why is God’s Punishment So Extreme?
Good Questions – Did My Tradition Get it Right?
Travel Tips for the Desert – Part 3
Travel Tips for the Desert – Part 2
Travel Tips for the Desert – Part 1
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Religious Trauma Resources
Karl Forehand is a former pastor, podcaster, and award-winning author. His books include Out into the Desert, Leaning Forward, Apparent Faith: What Fatherhood Taught Me About the Father’s Heart, The Tea Shop and Being: A Journey Toward Presence and Authenticity. He is the creator of The Desert Sanctuary podcast and community. He is married to his wife Laura of 35 years and has one dog named Winston. His three children are grown and are beginning to multiply! You can read more about the author here.