Recently, a friend and I were having a conversation about my journey of faith. She said the predictable, logical conclusion someone might draw from my experience in an abusive, controlling church would be that I lost my faith.
She said it would be as simple as 1+1=2. Girl is born into cult + Girl watches cult implode= Girl loses faith in God.
Indeed, some might say that's the only intellectually honest conclusion.
We ended up having a great conversation and it got me thinking about why I didn't lose my faith. And today I was inspired by Rachel Held Evans' post "Breaking The Cycle of Cynicism."
So, here's my answer:
I knew some people who rationalized my intact faith by saying: 1. She's an anomaly–the "margin of error" that must be figured into statistical evidence; or 2. that she was so severely brainwashed she couldn't bring herself to abandon the final vestiges of comfort afforded by organized religion.
I don't think either of these rationalizations pertain to me. For one thing, I've been evaluated by a therapist and she informs me that yes, I've sustained trauma but no, I'm not psychotic. Phew! Glad we got that outta the way!
I'm a clear thinker, apparently. Despite my "inferior female mind." Har har.
I suppose the very predictability of the 1+1=2 equation saved my faith. Here's why: I could see how the flawed hierarchy in my church, the nepotism, the misuse of tithe monies and the lack of transparency and accountability all contributed to the downfall of its leader.
Something didn't add up and that something had nothing to do with God.
I also knew the leader personally. Heck, he was my grandfather! Let's just say that while he may have entertained delusions of grandeur, I realized by my late teens that he was nothing more than a little old man hiding behind the curtain and pretending to be The Great & Terrible Oz.
Of course, I had no hard evidence. But that all came in time.
The point is, it would have been intellectually dishonest of me to abandon my faith in God based on false representation by a flawed human being.
Still, after I left the church, I was sorely tempted to believe what others said about God. This played straight into my insecurity. I had such a hard time believing that God really loved me that I was easily rattled by a grim theology that insisted God hated me.
I was scared they might be right.
I decided to find out for myself Who God was. The more I came to grow in my relationship with Him, the less I cared about how other mis-portrayed Him.
There will always be those who bring shame to Christ's name. That's been happening since He ascended. Of course, it's much sadder when Christians do this. I had to learn (the hard way) that it wasn't my job to go around convincing everyone that they were wrong about Him.
My job was/is to simply love God and love others. Pretty simple, really. But not easily done! However, the more I threw myself into loving my husband, serving my family and being a good, kind neighbor–the more happy and peaceful I became.
Grief and loss are opportunities to find healing and new life. The more I turned inward (self-pity, cynicism, bitterness), the less peaceful I was. The more I turned outward (serving, loving, giving), the more my happiness grew. In fact, it grew exponentially!
Love + Hope= Faith
For me, that was an equation that actually worked.
Does that make sense?
