The core of religious abuse for LGBT+ people is in the destruction of our worth as human beings, instilling a deep sense of self-loathing. Even without being LGBT+, we are taught, as Christians, that we are intrinsically evil, born in sin, incapable of doing any good and often summed up as “hopeless sinners saved by grace”.
This particular theological doctrine has done more damage to humanity than we can comprehend. It keeps us in perpetual bondage to our apparent worthlessness as a human being. Saying that God alone gives us any worth/value does not make it any better. It pushes the beauty of our humanity even further away, creates deep division by inflating the “us vs them” mentality, which could be articulated as “we can’t accept you, or anything you say/believe, because without God you are evil – born evil – and nothing you can do will change that unless you believe the same as we do”.
In psychological terms this is referred to as submitting to an “external locus of control”. Christianity says that we must submit to an external force (the Holy Spirit) that acts in us and through us. Although the claim is made that this force lives inside us, it’s still not “us” – we coexist with this entity in the hope that we will eventually conform to it’s likeness. Even though it lives in us, its an external locus of control that we willingly give ourselves over to.
There is a certain aspect of self responsibility in this, where doctrines say we are responsible for our actions, but the foundation and motivation is centred around giving up our most basic sense of self to something else. No matter how we paint this, with all the doctrines of God living in us and creating a far better version of ourselves, we are abdicating our humanity and creating a delusion of worthlessness.
There is, of course, the attempt to address this through doctrines that say our worth is found in God’s love for us – that he loves us so much that he died for us – but that still says that we are worthless without him, so submitting to his control is the only solution.
This stands as one of the greatest “evils” that the church has given mankind!
For those who haven’t heard, Sy Rogers died the other day.
In the interests of integrity and honesty, and respecting Sy’s desire to be a man despite his gender dysphoria and even living as a trans women for a while, I’ll use “they” as the pronoun to reflect this conflict.
Sy was one of the most prominent “ex-gay” preachers and traveled the world with their message that God can transform us into happy, fulfilled straight people. They rose to fame in the 80s and was even president of Exodus Ministries for a while.
One of their most famous quotes was “If you want to stay gay, that’s your business,… But the bottom line is, you have a choice to overcome it. You can change. The goal is God – not going straight. Straight people don’t go to Heaven, redeemed people do.”
As a fellow human being, my heart goes out to their family and friends.
But I find myself rather triggered. It’s brought up all the misery I went through trying to be a straight man all my life. And already, I’m finding countless others feeling the same.
Their very public teachings and testimony were adopted as “proof” that LGBT people could change. It was given extra weight because their story included their gender as well as their sexuality. Sy never really addressed the differences between the two, which we know are completely unrelated human attributes. Of course, we all know that no one actually changes either of these attributes. We either repress, deny or employ diversions such as religious obsessions to delude ourselves that we are changed or cured. We also know that most of the time this ends up causing mental illness and suicide.
Sy’s legacy would be impossible to quantify. Their message and ministry is directly responsible for bringing incalculable pain, misery, suffering and even death to literally millions.
Of course, there are many others who contributed to the abuse of LGBT people. But Sy is exceptional in that he had the opportunity to bring life instead of death, but refused to do so.
In 2007, during a meeting with Anthony Venn Brown, Sy said “I no longer preach a re-orientation message”. However, they never made this public! They’d said the same thing to other ministers as well over more recent years. And yes, if we look at their ministry over the last 15 years or so, it became more about relational wholeness through Jesus and similar topics. Sy had indeed carefully sidestepped his original message without so much as a word. Their only comment was about not wanting to cause public controversy. Perhaps it was more about saving face and finance? We may never know.
For me and so many now, this is the ultimate betrayal. How many lives could have been saved if Sy had had the guts to be honest and care more about others. Was Sy that unaware of the damage of their message?
It will take a while for me to process my emotions around this. I would encourage any of us who find ourselves confronting the anger and frustration of all we’ve been through to be brave, give yourself permission to feel and process it all. Get some help if needed, talk to safe friends or a counselor.
So yeah…. I don’t like to “talk ill of the dead” while family are still grieving, but I feel I have no choice. The Sy Rogers legacy is horrific.
For most of us, coming out and working through religious issues has required huge amounts of vulnerability (opening ourselves up to be easily hurt, influenced, or attacked).
We open ourselves up to others to share our deepest secrets, our shame, our mental health and the pain we’ve lived with.
Even with strong relationships and a solid loving community, this can be very traumatic. But without them, it can be a long lonely journey. Whatever the process for each of us, it’s something that requires guts, determination and bravery.
If we have come out of fundamentalism/pentecostalism etc we have the pain of losing those who we thought loved and cared for us. We become the target of their abuse, disguised as love and concern at best, or outright condemnation and assignment to hell at worst.
Eventually we have to turn our backs on these people and establish a new life with people who really do care, who actually love us unconditionally. To keep contact with those who abuse us is simply too hard, especially if our mental health has been affected. Our vulnerability can only stand so much and we must protect ourselves to survive.
Personally, this has been a complex battle. Part of me would love to walk away and never engage with this type of religion again. But I’m also confronted with the reality that I was part of the system that causes so much abuse, being a leader in Living Waters conversion therapy for so long. I shudder to think of the damage I did and perhaps the loss of life I was implicit in.
Silent Gays has been a work of passion and compassion for all those who have experienced religious abuse. But it puts me in a constant state of vulnerability. I share my life over and over. I am constantly confronted and condemned by traditional Christians. The more I reach out to those silently suffering in churches, the more I’m abused. It’s a situation of constant vulnerability, and honestly, some days it’s really hard. It takes it’s toll.
Despite this, my heart for the abused is stronger than ever, so I have to work with the balancing act of self preservation and confrontation. I will not stop confronting the religious fundamentalists because I know that in doing so, others are watching – those who would never speak out in vulnerability. I know that my strength in being vulnerable is an inspiration.
In writing this, I’m once again being vulnerable. Some will say it’s the least I can do given my participation in the abuse. Other’s will say to just let it all go and get on with my life. Perhaps one day I will walk away, but I think I’d never stop feeling for the countless others struggling under the deathly weight of religion.
Meanwhile, I do all I can to walk that fine line, and live my life to it’s fullest.
David (aka The Naked Pastor) is a wonderful LGBT ally and fellow traveller in the journey of deconstructing religion. I found this article helpful in articulating the reasons why we enjoy church and the difficulties we face when we leave. His work through The Lasting Supper is amazing and bridges that gap for people who need a safe space to assess what the heck they really believe and the damage religion can cause
I’ve left the church. Many times. The last time I left was 8 years ago. It was painful every time. Here’s just a few of the reasons why it was so difficult to leave.
1. Fear: When I left the church, a profound cloud of fear enveloped me: “What have I done?” No matter how much you rationalize your decision, the years and years of indoctrination collect to shout out jeers and threats for your selfishness, stupidity, sinfulness, and short-sightedness. You have just willingly divorced yourself from God and his people, taken your first step closer to Hell, thrown yourself into the arms of the Devil, and destined yourself to an endless road of Perdition. You have officially branded yourself a Heretic. Lost! Of course this isn’t true, but try telling yourself that! Over and over and over again.
2. Friends: The first time I left the church I imagined
I would keep many of the friends I had there. I learned quickly that it
never seems to work out. Even the last time I left the church, that
fantasy was still burning in my mind. Again, it didn’t work out. You
lose friends. Maybe not all, but most of them. Period. You have to learn
how to make new ones while you’re grieving the loss of your old ones.
Not easy.
3. Inspiration: There is something very inspiring about gathering together with others on pretty much the same page, in agreement, learning together and singing together and supporting each other. I love hearing or delivering a good sermon. Honestly! Most often I walked away refreshed and refuelled for the next week. Learning how to do that by yourself is not simple.
4. Music: I was always involved with the music and
worship. The last worship band I had rocked! I loved playing and singing
with them. We had some great times and even made a CD together that’s
pretty good. I haven’t picked up my guitar since I left, but that’s my
fault. I don’t listen to worship music much anymore either unless it’s
renaissance church music or Russian Orthodox choirs. There’s too much
“ick” associated with worship music for me now.
5. Support: When I and my family went through difficult
times, we always always had people around us who cared and actually did
something about it. We’ve been given food, money, babysitting, cars,
rides, help moving, prayers, company, words, vacations… you name it. The
church also made it easy for us to be generous and give. Now we’re on
our own, and the difference is noticeable. We are learning to be
self-sufficient and generous independently.
6. Destiny: The last denomination I was involved with
was the Vineyard. Prophetic words, words of wisdom, dreams and visions
are a huge part of that culture. My life had meaning and a sense of
purpose. I woke up every morning pretty much knowing what I had to do
and where my life was heading. I had a destiny! Even though I now
believe most of that was hype, I did enjoy living in that matrix of
illusion. Then I took the red pill. Oh my!
7. Validation: When you are in the church, you get a
very strong sense that you are on the gospel train. You are doing the
right thing being counted among the people of God. You are a member, and
that gives you a sense of assurance that you are indeed saved, that God
has his eye on you and that you are on the right track. When you get
off that train, you have to build your own sense of assurance that you
are okay, and that is an arduous but necessary task.
8. Boredom: I have so much more time on my hands since I
left the church. I remember my first Sunday morning not going. I went
for a walk around the time when cars where driving by on their way to
church. Did I ever feel strange! It was hard not feeling like a
delinquent. A sinner. I’ve gotten used to it to the point now where I
relish my Sunday mornings. But that’s not all. When you involve yourself
with the church, it can become like a family with its 24/7 demands. Now
I have to be self-directed. But I’m learning.
9. Children: Even though Lisa and I
are learning our new way of life, we always worry about our children.
They are amazing young adults now. But they have been exposed to all the
crap that’s been dealt out to us, and their impression of church is not
rosy. We never slam the church in front of them, but they aren’t
stupid. They catch on. We don’t want them erroneously believing that
this means we are enemies of religion, the church, faith, or
spirituality. They each have their own brilliant expressions of
spirituality, but it’s been forged by fire. Sometimes ours.
10. Inclusion: I fight hard for the church. Some people
mistake it for me fighting hard against it. When pressed, I still say
my family of origin is Christianity and that I love the church. I
totally believe in the right of people to gather together volitionally,
but in a healthy manner… which is rare. I am also for spiritual
independence. It saddens me when people assume that because I’ve left
the church I am no longer in the game. When I was in the church, my
voice was criticized as biting the hand that fed me. Now it is
criticized as not deserving to critique something I’m not a part of.
Can’t win.
Please understand that even though most of these are really good reasons to stay in the church, most often they come at a price. Like the rabbits of Watership Down who were well fed by the farmer. But the deal was the farmer could occasionally harvest some of them for food and fur. In this case, none of the good the church offers is worth it for me.
Do these reasons apply to you? Or, do you have other reasons?
