Finding Freedom
Every powerful resurrection story begins with destruction. To rebuild, first, all must be un-built. Those who have grown up in the Christian faith and then left it call this process deconstruction. For some, this destruction is a sudden “burn it all down!” event. For others, like me, it was a slow game of Jenga, where one block of the once stable tower was removed one year and a different block the next. These foundations, climbing over decades, lead to a teetering faith. When my faith did come down, it made a huge mess.
When I say I made a mess, I don’t mean to imply that it was scandalous. I’m not a drama queen. The stress of shoving myself into a mold that I was not intended to fit took its toll on me physically. I developed Type 2 diabetes, General Anxiety Disorder, PTSD, and depression. Walking away probably saved my life.
“What was I walking away from?” you may ask. I was a pastor. Yep. One of those guys. So in a sense, I did “burn it all down.” You see, since I was 8 years old, all I ever wanted to be was a pastor. I grew up in church, learning about the Christian faith and attending a private Christian school. My mother is religious, and my dad is not. I have always been a pleaser and peacekeeper by nature. Religion seemed like the perfect fit- at first.
The grooming was done at a young age. I loved the accolades I got for “doing the right thing.” At the age of eight, I asked Jesus into my heart. However, secretly, I was ashamed of my faith. It embarrassed me to tell other people outside of the church that I was a Christian. I didn’t want to be viewed as that weird “churchy” kid.
I decided to go into full-time Christian ministry not long after I made the profession. The grooming continued, as my decision made me feel special. I felt pride in being “good” and, as a result, I never rebelled. I built a solid foundation.
Interned at multiple churches plus one megachurch.
Lead countless spiritual retreats and camps.
I attended a Christian college and earned my BA in Religion.
Attended New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary.
I spent 25 years in Christian ministry.
Now, as faith starts to go, this was a pretty solid beginning. My parents loved me. I wasn’t poor, nor suffered abuse. I made my own choices. I received extensive biblical training, even learning the original language of much of the New Testament, Greek. There were no cracks in the foundation. As long as I didn’t overthink the pain I saw in the world around me, I was fine.
All that changed when Pain, with a capital P, began to visit my life. It forced me to think because feeling was too hard. No one painful event guided me on this path. But Pain also introduced me to a path to freedom. It has been a long journey so far for me. I knew I could not unlearn 45 years of indoctrination overnight. It would take time, reflection, healing, and patience to take my life apart block by block; to start all over again.