Confessions of a Spiritual Bully Archives - Losing Faith, Finding Spirit

One Question Changed My Religion: How?

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_{Growing up Evangelical Christian, I struggled with the “how” of things. Overtime my struggle brought me out of religion all together and pushed me into a more spiritual practice. For now I would say I am more Pagan leaning in faith, but even that is a bit of a stretch. “Nonreligious” feels more accurate. Yet I was still searching for HOW to live a fulfilling life of peace.}

Over the years the one word question, how? pushed me to explore every aspect of my faith. I was told you are supposed to live righteously, but not HOW to apply this idea to every day life. I began to feel bored and frustrated every time I left a church service. This tug to a more practical practice eventually left me open to see the overreaching hypocrisy of those in religious leadership. Overtime my respect for the church and their doctrine diminished completely.

As I look inward and try to heal my traumatic past, I again find myself asking “how?”

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I tried participating in 12 Step programs to work through my codependency issues, as well as find healing from having alcoholics in my life. I really struggled with the fact that all the Al-Anon meetings in my area were at churches. The literature and structure of the meetings were too religious leaning for my taste (there is a lot of talk of a higher power or God). Lastly I did not like the fact you could not cross-talk (as in directly talk to someone during the meeting).

I understand that the cross-talk thing is to give space for everyone to speak their hearts, while also limiting advice giving, something codependents struggle with (many of us are rescuers in the relationship), but it felt like we were all talking at one another instead of with one another. All of those aspects reminded me a little too much of my past church life.

The part that finally pushed me away from 12 Step programs is that the literature and overall format feels very “fluffy” and lacking much substance to me. I found myself reading through the books and listening to the talks wondering “HOW?” Members at the meetings kept talking about living this peaceful serene life, but not HOW to live that life.

When I would ask how do I find that peace, I was directed back to the literature and told to follow the steps

When I would ask how do I find that peace, I was directed back to the literature and told to follow the steps. This alone felt too much like my evangelical upbringing, where if I asked HOW they said read your Bible everyday, pray, and repent of any wrongdoings.

Since 12 Steps and the Church did not give me practical how-to on living a peaceful, fulfilled, and healed life, I had to keep searching.

I finally found my HOW. Meditation and Mindfulness.

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During a particularly difficult period in my life the words “mindfulness meditation,” started popping up everywhere. I saw them on magazines lining the check-out at the grocery store and in social media posts. I signed up for emails to be a more peaceful parent, and the biggest advice was to start a meditation practice and get more mindful of your body to reset your triggers.

I felt like the universe was trying to tell me something, so I listened. I looked into mindfulness practices and meditation. I found that starting off with short guided mediations at night, or at least once a day, helped me get inside my body. I slowly connected to my feelings, even the deep uncomfortable ones. I started to know myself better. My triggers became clear, and so did a path through the big feelings.

I found a therapist who gave me some tips on how to break the flooding cycle I was stuck in. I’ll share this here, because in many ways it saved my life.

Simple How-To for stopping the flooding: Fight, Flight, or Freeze response:

First you tense your forehead for a few seconds, then relax.
Next tense your jaw, then relax.
Now your neck, relax.
Shoulders, relax.
Biceps. Relax.
On down through every part of your body to your toes.
Then do the whole thing again, two or three times.
Then you can tense your body all at once and relax.
Take a few deep breathes, breathing into the areas that might still be tense and let go.

That one method saved me from feeling completely stuck in the fear, flight, freeze mode. It moved me into clear thinking and helped me find a way out of the codependent life I had built. It’s such a simple thing. Just tensing parts of your body, then relaxing, but it took 36 years before anyone told me How to do it.

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I am much more consistent in my mediation these days than I was three years ago when I started this journey. When I feel stuck and wonder what to do or how to do something, I now check inward. There is this deep sense of knowing inside that helps me make the next decision. I am learning to trust myself and to rewrite false beliefs that held me captive from a fulfilled life. The more I practice getting in tune with my body the better I feel. The more confident I become in myself the faster I recognize when I am acting in an old, unhealthy or codependent way.

I don’t need a religious institute or 12 Steps to find my inner peace, it was here inside me all along.

Check out my other posts for more content about leaving religion and finding inner peace.

Internalized Homophobia and Name Calling

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^{As I have come to terms with my own sexuality I have come to realize all the many ways I have internalized homophobia. The adults in my life, namely my parents, spoke very negatively about homosexuality. They spoke of gays and lesbians in the same with the same tone reserved for perverts and rapists. The biggest authority in my life, the church, viewed homosexuality as something to hate and hide.}

When I was a kid my best friend was a boy. We played all the time. He would pretend to be Link from the video game, Zelda, and I would pretend to be a magic unicorn. It was parallel play at its finest. He did his thing, I did mine, but we were together in a world of our own.

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This friendship dissolved as we grew and the teasing began. Since I was a girl and he was boy, according to early elementary school logic we must have been in love. Boys had cooties, so did girls, and my playing with a boy went against the gender norms of the playground. The only reason a boy and girl could play together was if they were in love, and love was for grown-ups, thus should be teased mercilessly.

I can’t recall exactly why, but I remember being very mad at my friend. I think it had something to do with all the teasing. Regardless, I was angry and called him the worst thing I could think of at the time, even though I had no idea what it meant. I called him a F*gg*t.

I called him the worst thing I could think of at the time, even though I had no idea what it meant.

I had no clue why f*gg*t was bad, just that it was. My mother always said it in the same tone she used to talk about sickos who hurt children, and dangerous people. She later called Ellen DeGeneres and Rosie O’Donnell “sickos,” in this same tone.

I called my friend this horrible thing, and stormed off. In my memories he vanished after that. Really I think it was probably near the end of the school year and he just didn’t come back to the same school. It’s possible I was angry because he was moving or leaving the school and we would never see each other.

I can’t remember the exact details of that moment, just the horrible sense of regret when that word left my mouth.

I can’t remember all details of that moment, just the horrible sense of regret when that word left my mouth. To this day I wish I could apologize to this friend. I now know what that word means and how it harms those in the LGBTQ community. That word and others hurt me and kept me from facing my own truth.

As I have come to terms with my own sexuality I have come to realize all the many ways I have internalized homophobia. The adults in my life, namely my parents and those they listened to (Rush Limbaugh for one) spoke very negatively about homosexuality. They spoke of gays and lesbians like they were perverts and rapists. The biggest authority in my life, the church, viewed homosexuality as something to hate and hide.

I’m an artist, I told myself, I just want to see how to draw boobs better, nevermind the fact I own a pair myself.

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I remember scouring through gaming magazines and staring at the women. I’m an artist, I told myself, I just want to see how to draw boobs better, nevermind the fact I own a pair myself. In college I watched the movie, “But I’m a Cheerleader,” and felt personally offended. I felt everyone in the movie was pushing their ideas onto the main character. Everyone else had decided she was gay, it didn’t come from her sense of self. Of course she would be grossed out by her boyfriend French kissing her, French kissing is gross!

I identified with the main character so much I was offended on her behalf. When in truth, I was dealing with my internalized homophobia and was just like her. I was ignoring the rainbow flags in my own life that would point the way to my same-sex attraction.

I was ignoring the rainbow flags in my own life that would point the way to my same-sex attraction.

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My childhood was very sexualized. That’s the flip-side of purity culture, it creates this sexual curiosity and frustration. It centers adolescence around sex. I cannot tell you how often the church talked about sex . It was the THE thing that always came up. It also strips children of their sexual autonomy. Your body is not your own, it belongs to God, which means it belongs to the Church, or your parents.

I was taught my body belongs to something bigger. That belief kept me in a miserable marriage for so long. I continued having sex because a wife’s duty is to please her husband. A wife must make her husband happy, and sex was the way to make him happy. It was my godly duty to have children, even if I wasn’t ready for them. Then it was my duty to put those children before myself.

All of that to say, if my body was not mine, how could I really be in tuned with what I wanted?

All of that to say, if my body was not mine, how could I really be in tuned with what I wanted? When asked in bed what I wanted to do sexually, I never had a clue. Slowly I started to realize what I wanted, and it did not involve a man. Slowly I started to accept myself and unlearn my internalized homophobia. SLOWLY, like not until my mid-thirties slow.

To this day I deeply regret calling my childhood friend a F*gg*t. Even though I didn’t know the definition of that word, I knew the connotation. I said it to hurt and wound my friend. I wish I could tell him sorry. We were only seven or eight years old, but I have thought about that moment often over the last thirty-odd years. I don’t know if he understood what I said, or what it meant, I surely didn’t, but still, I wish I could apologize.

I also deeply regret using that word with the intent to harm.

Many labels and words are used to demean LGTBQ people. I am thankful that many in the LGBTQ community have reclaimed these labels. They have turned them around to bring power.

As I overcome my internalized homophobia, I have grown to like the word Queer. I like the way it sounds, the way it feels on my tongue. I like the way it means odd and different, for I have felt those words my whole life. I like it better than Lesbian or Bi or even Pan. I have tried these labels on like ill-fitting clothes. I’ve said them out-loud to myself. I also like the word Gay, even though it’s meant to label men who love men. I like the way Gay also means happy. Gay is the word I used when I fully came out to myself, my husband, and my therapist.

I have settled on calling myself Queer for now. I sometimes call myself a Lesbian. It’s a new word for me, a word that feels strange and foreign, but also like something I should reach out to and try on.

Funny how such a small word can make such a huge difference

Funny how such a small word can make such a huge difference. How it can uproot an entire family. Shake up the norm and redefine relationships. I am hopeful it will also bring joy and happiness.

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I have learned and grown since my childhood. In overcoming internalized homophobia, I have come to find words can hurt and they can heal. I am choosing to use words to heal. I am choosing to redefine my language and my labels. I am learning to accept other people’s definitions, labels, and even pronouns.

We only have one life. We get to choose how we live it. Do we live it with love and light or hide in shame and fear? I choose love and light.

Since I cannot find my old friend and say sorry to him, I will say sorry to you. If you have ever had labels and words used against you, I’m sorry. If you’ve been wounded by the societal norm, I’m sorry. There are those, like myself, who are redefining language and labels. Those who are choosing words to heal instead of harm.

I hope you find healing.

Read more:

Facing My Truth: I’m Here and I’m Queer

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I am in my late thirties, with a child, currently in a hetero-normative marriage. Until very recently I had thought I was straddling the “Bi-sexual” lines. However, after good therapy, looking inward, and facing my truth, I am now ready to say: “I’m here and I’m queer.”

If you have read some of my Confessions of a Spiritual Bully posts you may know I come from a very conservative, rigid religiosity in the Evangelical Christian Church. While the pastor preached “God is Love,” there was a strong message that that love was based on certain criteria and if you did not meet those “norms” you were damned to eternal flames.

Part of the “norms” in the Church was heterosexuality. There was no room for LGBTQ folks, and the message was clear: Homosexuality was a choice and that choice was a sin.

the message was clear: Homosexuality was a choice and that choice was a sin.

That left no room for any deviance. Marriage was considered one Man and one Woman with the intent to raise children. Anything else was sin. Sin was eternal damnation and flames. Your soul would suffer for your lustful immoral thoughts.

Sadly, this same mindset has gotten very strong in recent years. As LGBTQ rights have been fought, won, and contested. I had to block and unfriend multiple family members who used the Bible as a means to spread hate against LGBTQ folks after marriage equality passed. I tried to argue with one family member that despite their religious beliefs, the constitution was in favor of marriage equality and for separation of church and state, making their hate fueled comments unconstitutional at best. It did not go well.

Those family members now vote with their hate. They vote against equality of LGBTQ folks and BIPOC. For a religion supposedly based on love there is so much hate.

For a religion supposedly based on love there is so much hate.

I internalized this hate over the years. I stuffed my homosexual desires down deep, justifying my interests in the same sex as being appreciative of all beauty. I’m an artist, of course I love beautiful people, regardless of gender.

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I recall holding the hands of many boys and feeling nothing. However I was terrified of holding hands with my gal friends. As if somehow that act (something the other girls never seemed to have a problem with) was too intimate for me.

I was careful with hugs and physical acts of affection. A couple friendships ran deeper than others, and hurt worse than being dumped by several boys when they ended.

I can now look back and see all the broken pieces I tried to ignore. All the things that weighed me down and filled me with misery. I was denying a whole part of my identity, of my potential, for fear of other people’s opinions. I was raised to fear other people’s opinions.

My own mother told me the angels were all watching.

I knew God and his angels were always watching and ready to curse me, or damn me if I committed any sin. Sinful thoughts were enough to send me straight to Hell. I also wrote about that constant fear of death growing up.

It took a lot to get here. To admit to myself first that I was Bi, then to really settle in and face what that meant. The more I explored my “bi-sexuality” the more I felt a deep longing for a same-sex partnership. I felt a deep loneliness in my marriage that my husband could not fill. We had our difficulties, something I will discuss in later posts. But ultimately I had to face the truth, My Truth: I no longer wanted a heterosexual relationship.

When I was at my loneliest, it wasn’t my husband I wished to hold or have. It was a woman.

When I was at my loneliest, it wasn’t my husband I wished to hold or have. It was a woman. Not a specific woman. Just the abstract concept of a woman. I had to face the Truth, I wasn’t bi, I am a Lesbian.

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I recently told my husband I no longer wished to be in a heterosexual marriage. I wanted to end things and allow both of us the space to find partners who would love us unconditionally. It’s only been a month since that conversation. We haven’t even told our child. But we are working towards divorce.

I can say that while I felt intense Grief and Guilt over my truth and the loss of the hetero-normal privileges of a straight marriage. a HUGE weight has lifted off my life.

I can say that while I felt intense Grief and Guilt over my truth and the loss of the hetero-normal privileges of a straight marriage. A HUGE weight has lifted off my life. I can truly breathe. I feel Hope. There are endless possibilities ahead.

Sure there’s a whole mess to deal with in ending a marriage, especially because we have a child. But when I feel that guilt rise up, I just think of how relieved I feel to never have to have sex with a man and I KNOW this is the best path for me.

I also have a lot of internalized shame from the hateful messages against LGBTQ folks I was raised with. I hear my mother’s tone when she called Rosie O’Donnell and Ellen DeGeneres “sickos,” as if they were pedophiles or rapists. That memory lingers making me uncomfortable sharing my truth with my family. My Evangelical family will NOT be happy with my news. However, I can’t worry about them though.

I’ve spent my whole life worried about other people’s opinions of me. It’s time to focus on what my opinions are.

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I’m going to spend the next few months dating myself. I’m going to keep looking in. Keep working with my therapist. And I’m going to heal. One day I may be out and proud and loud. Today I will boast anonymously on this blog.

I just want to say that It does Get Better. I hope you find your truths, no matter how hard, and know that you are not alone.

Check out more on the blog:

Purity Culture is Damaging

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The concept of “purity” as defined by the Evangelical Christian Church is a woman who is sexually pure, submissive to her husband, and a mother figure. Anyone who does not align with those concepts will be damned. The rigid religiosity of purity culture is incredibly damaging.

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Within the Evangelical Christian Church, there was a lot of emphasis on virginity. Youth groups talked constantly about sex and all the reasons you should abstain until marriage. Huge events and conventions were held to persuade teenagers to make purity vows.

There were even marriage ceremonies with God. Teenagers who made such vows were encouraged to wear purity rings, or promise rings on their ring finger. You would later give this ring to the first person you had sex with. The hope was this person would be your spouse. Oftentimes these ceremonies were specific to girls. Sometimes the vows would be with the girls’ fathers, which is gross on so many levels.

Males and females were told to abstain, but the heavy emphasis was on females.

My pastor’s wife pulled all the girls aside to discuss the importance of being modest. What you wore, how you behaved, and even how deep you kissed could all lead to losing your virginity. There was an unspoken understanding that the burden of staying pure was on girls. It was the girls’ fault if a boy lusted after her. It was also her fault if she was raped.

Even my middle school teacher at a Christian private school joked that the best birth control was an aspirin between the legs. As in hold the aspirin between your knees so you don’t spread your legs for boys. I WAS TWELVE and basically being told that if I dressed with skirts or shorts more than three inches above my knees, I would be raped and it would be my fault.

I was twelve and basically being told that if I dressed with skirts or shorts more than three inches above my knees, I would be raped and it would be my fault.

According to the church I grew up in the Bible stated that marriage was only between one man and one woman. And that anyone you “lay with” or had sex with was your spiritual spouse in God’s eyes. If you have sex with multiple people your soul would be split and pulled apart until there’s nothing left to give the one person you want to actually marry.

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Never mind the fact that King David had many wives. One of his wives he acquired because he saw her taking a bath one her roof and wanted her. So he invited her over and raped her. Of course the Church likes to say Bathsheba was a willing participant, but the truth was that the KING invited her over. You do not go against the king.

This story was said in youth groups to emphasize how girls have to protect their bodies, specifically their nudity from men. But King David was also revered highly in the church. After he raped Bathsheba, she got pregnant. To cover his misdeed he had her husband killed in war so he could marry her. Not only did King David rape someone, he also murdered someone. Not to mention David already had many wives. (2 Samuel 11, 12; 1 Kings 1, 2)

I cannot tell you how many women struggled with fertility issues in the church and felt that it was God punishing them for having sex before marriage.

The child from this union died, which is also interpreted to mean that women who get pregnant out of wedlock, or through some ungodly means, will miscarry. I cannot tell you how many women struggled with fertility issues in the church and felt that it was God punishing them for having sex before marriage. So much for “God is love.”

I became terrified not only of sex itself, but of my own sexual urges. Lustful thoughts were also SIN. And sinners burn forever in Hell, an eternal lake of fire.

It was practically the eleventh commandment: though shall not have sex until marriage.

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In Purity Culture marriage is one of the highest unions two people can have. It’s the happily ever after at the end of the fairy tale. It’s Godliness, because how often the Church is called the Bride of Christ. Brides and women are highly valued for their purity, their virginity, and not much else. Women aren’t technically supposed to hold office or speak up in church, or so Paul writes in the New Testament, though many modern church-ladies do. (1 Corinthians 14:33-35)

Men rule women, and are heads of their house, like God is the head of the Church. This concept opens the door for abusive marriages. Women feel trapped with husbands who can do whatever they want. It is a woman’s spiritual test to obey and submit to their husbands as the Church is supposed to submit to Christ.

So many women I knew in the church were in abusive marriages because of this concept.

So many teenagers married too young and to wrong people (myself included) because of the strict rules and obsession with sex. I know at least two people who married just so they could finally have sex. Both people have since divorced and remarried and are much happier for it.

Accepting people for who they are, like Jesus who stood up for the prostitute and adulterer, is what I think the church should focus on. He said anyone who has no sin can throw the first stone (John 8:7). I feel there are many proverbial stones being thrown at people who simply do not deserve it.

Purity Culture puts the blame on victims

I was sexually assaulted and felt that it was my fault because of what I was wearing. My love for this person meant I should accept the assault and submit to this person. My needs came last, if at all. Purity culture puts the blame on victims, instead of holding the rapist accountable. Purity culture emphasizes the sin instead of the forgiveness.

I felt dirty, and ruined. I felt like I had to marry the first person I had sex with, and I did. It led to me hiding my own sexuality for fear of not falling into the Christian household of Man and Wife. It led to so much inner turmoil and damage that even now, in my late thirties I am still healing.

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I am learning to let go of the harmful messages in my past and accept my true authentic self.

It’s uncomfortable, but I am becoming a better person every day. I hope that anyone struggling with purity culture can find a safe place here and know you are not alone.

You are loved.

You are valid.

There is a place for you. I hope you find it.

Find more Healing Tips and Confessions of growing up in Evangelical Church at these links:

Scared to Death of Death – Fear in the Church

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Hell, death, and the end of days were constant buzz words in the Evangelical Christian Church where I grew up. Fear was always present. Fear of God, fear of death, and simple fear of tomorrow. Repent, come to Jesus, and you will be saved not only from eternal flames, but you’ll get summoned in the Rapture.

Let me pause here and discuss the Rapture, as I knew it.

The church I grew up in believed that the “end of days,” was the time before the great apocalypse when Earth reaches its final moments. Spoiler alert, the world goes down in flames, literally. Apparently God really likes fire, I mean he does ask for sacrifices to be burned. Anyways, before the END, God will call His “children” home with a resounding trumpet blast. Those who believe in Jesus, and are “True Christians,” will meet him in the air, escaping the horror that will befall all who are left behind.

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This event, where the real Christians get zapped from earth leaving their mortal clothing and everything behind, is called the Rapture. The fake Christians and straight up heathens, get left behind to deal with the four horsemen of the apocalypse and everything else horrific and oddly worded that goes on in the Biblical book of Revelations.

Southern Evangelical Churches loved to preach about the Rapture. They got all riled up thinking about that big party in the sky. Sometimes they would break out in song and dancing and shouting when they really got going. A few times I recall someone grabbing a ram’s horn and blowing it, sort of as a symbol of the Rapture call. They were excited because they were definitely part of the elite who are going to be Raptured away. You too could be part of the select few and celebrate, while all the rejects suffer on earth.

You really don’t want to be a reject do you?

Beware, because if you have any sin in your heart when the trumpet sounds, you will be left behind!!!

Beware! Sin leads to death. Sin leads to missing out. You could be sinning right now. Just thinking about some carnal thing instead of meditating on God constantly could get you left behind. No one knows the day or the hour when the trumpet will sound.

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BUT, if you do miss out on the trumpet, there’s still hope. You just have to avoid taking the Mark of Beast (which is either a tattoo with the number 666, a bar-code, or a microchip, depending on the technology in your region). You also have to ask Jesus into your heart constantly, because you never know.

As a God fearing Christian, I was terrified of the Rapture. There was a puppet show when I was a kid that portrayed the Rapture. In it, a kid was walking outside when suddenly all the birds got quiet. A trumpet sounded, and a cracking sound followed. Suddenly, everyone the kid loved was gone.

For years afterwards I was horrified whenever birds got quiet. Whenever a vaguely horn-ish sound blared in the distance I would stop and search for piles of abandoned clothes.

I lived most of my religious life in total fear.

I was scared of dying after committing a minor sin, or an unknown sin. Afraid of the trumpet sound and the Rapture. Terrified of God just being mad at me and dolling out some kind of punishment because it was going to teach a lesson, or had some bigger purpose.

Going to church really did not help my anxiety.

Of course fear is a big motivator. Afraid of sinning? Come to church to find ways to get rid of sin. Scared of death and Hell? Go to church to be a good Christian. Worried about the Rapture? Perfect church attendance proves you are one of the elite and will get called up by the trumpet.

Fear certainly motivated me to keep going to church in the hopes of not being a reject and burning up forever. At least it did for a while.

Imagine being so worried about what happens after you die that you stop caring about what is going on while you are alive?

I was so focused on the past and the future I lost sight of the right now. Thanks to mindfulness I have changed my perspective and worked through a great deal of fear. I still struggle, fear is human. But I no longer listen for trumpet blasts and worry about the afterlife. I try to focus on what I can do in the lives of the living, in this moment. I try to focus on mindfulness.

We only have one life, I’m going to live mine without so much fear.

Read about my past in the Evangelical Christian church and find more mindful healing at these links:

How I Lost Faith in Christianity

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I lost faith in Christianity because of a one word question:

How?

As a child magic and miracles seemed interchangeable. At one point I believed I could control the wind or change traffic lights with my mind. Jesus and Santa Clause were both eternal beings who granted your requests, one through a letter, the other through a prayer. Miracles were real, but magic and fairies were not.

Over time I watched people I love struggle with health issues, either from birth, or through no fault of their own. I watched as seemingly innocent people suffered great loss from natural events, or wars, or mass murders. I struggled to understand How a God of Love could allow the world to suffer, allow the humans he supposedly valued more than His own Son, to suffer. How could love let pain endure?

The answers were vast and thin.

God’s ways are not man’s ways.

We cannot understand the mind of Christ.

He works in mysterious ways.

These answers did not satisfy my endless question of How? If God is Love, how does suffering continue? I swallowed down my doubts and tried to believe in the bigger picture. I observed the world and searched for clues as to how pain and suffering led to a greater good. Yet, I failed.

The world’s suffering grew too big for my understanding of God.

There was the bigger How… How do I live the life God wants? God was a jealous, angry God waiting around to strike me dead for even thinking sinfully. If, my own private thoughts were not safe, how then, did I find purity? How could I escape the damnation of my soul lamenting in an endless lake of fire?

The pastors and preachers demanded that all sinners must be saved. The phrase, “go and sin no more,” was a constant plea. There was no guide as to HOW to accomplish this fete.

There were endless tales of mortals who met their doom right after refusing to ask Jesus in their hearts. Modest, moral folks were decapitated right outside the church parking-lot, after refusing to ask Jesus into their hearts.

A simple prayer was all it took to be saved.

Repeating the Sinner’s Prayer was the magic ticket to heaven. Mass murders could get out of Hell Free by praying. Death is all around in the church. Statues of the dying Jesus are often on display as a reminder of our mortality.

This constant fear left me ill-at-ease within the church. The Bible itself says that “perfect Love casts out all fear” (1 John 4:18). The idea that I should follow God, or Jesus out of fear has never sat right with me.

Another thing that doesn’t sit right with me are the many contradictions in the Bible. The simple fact that historical evidence and Biblical context do not always meet up.

There were many inconsistencies with the theology of the church, the mixed messages of the Bible, and the hypocrisy of those who practiced the religion. Ultimately, I lost faith in Christianity because of the hypocrisy and hate I saw in a faith was was supposedly founded in love.

Spiritual Bullies were the leaders in the church.

Pastors, teachers, even youth ministers knew how to use the scripture to move the hearts of their audience to react. Searching the crowd for that ultimate reaction, the Prayer of Salvation.

I, myself practiced manipulation by using scripture and fear of eternal flames to “Save” souls. I truly believed I was doing the “good work” by using specific Bible verses to force conviction. Once, I tried to convince someone to stop lying all the time by reading as many verses about the evils of lying as I could find. Afterwards, a much more spiritual person than I pointed out what I was doing was manipulative.

My first Confession of a Spiritual Bully is to Jesus.

Jesus commanded to “Love your neighbor as yourself,” (Matthew 22:39), that “true religion is caring for the orphan and the widow,” (James 1:27), and “whatever you do to the least of these, you do unto me,” (Matthew 25:40-45). The same man who commanded that you “judge not lest you be judged,” and “tend to the mote in your own eye before worrying over the speck in your brothers.” (paraphrase of Matthew 7: 1-4)

I want to say, I’m sorry Jesus. I did not follow your principles or your values. Walking away from religion and reading your words under a fresh light has brought me closer to your teachings. I no longer call myself by your name, but I still value your messages.

Not all churches are as manipulative as the ones I grew up in. Not all Christians are hypocrites.

Yet, I have lost faith in Christianity. Instead of believing in some God above, I now search the soul within. I look to the spirit already inside of me, who weeps and mourns for those who struggle. Who wants to give to the agencies that will help in crisis. The one who can rise up from the ashes of the world and do something, however small, to help the present world crisis.

Now when I see a problem and think How, I work to find some action to take. I am finding my how, and I don’t need religion to help me.