A Cult of Personality - or is that Cult Pseudo-Personality?

As we dipped our toes into the still-fresh waters of 2023, I took the time to do a little thinking. The past seven years had seemed so strange as to be fictitious, outshone only by the twenty-five-odd years that went before them. Although at the time, that life was all I knew. So how could I truly scrutinise my reality given I had nothing to compare it to? 

Last year was bonkers.  Among it all, there was a lot of talk in my private and unchurchable circles about the c-bomb. Cults. What are they? What defines a cult? What is their damage? When you look around in popular literature, you see a fair bit of chatter about the markers of cultism - things like love-bombing, control of information, decision-making expectations, shaming, shunning, demand for purity, and many other elements that link to coercive control. You also see a fair bit of commentary about the markers of a cult leader - things like a charismatic personality with a decent helping of narcissism or Narcissistic Personality Disorder thrown in. And you know what, it’s possible that I will write about these things again later. But for now, I want to pay attention to something that’s been weighing on my little brain that sits adjacent to these troubling thoughts.

It’s a thing called a Cult Psuedo-Personality or Pseudo-identity. Essentially, it’s what happens when a person’s whole life and belief system become caught up in a high-demand group or cult. It is due in part to the intense nature of the influence cults wield over the person, and the fact that personal transformation is often part of the expected trajectory of a participant in the cult’s thought-reform process. Dr Gillie Jenkinson, PhD, cited this little gem in her investigation into the topic: “As part of the intense influence and change process in many cults, people take on a new social identity, which may or may not be obvious to an outsider. When groups refer to this new identity, they speak of members who are transformed, reborn, enlightened, empowered, re-birthed, or cleared [my addition: saved, surrendered]. The group-approved behaviour is reinforced and reinterpreted as demonstrating the emergence of “the new person.” Members are expected to display this new social identity.” [1, 2]

Dr Jenkinson’s commentary on the issue was one I found interesting. She recounted research by one of my favourite cult dudes, Robert Lifton, who suggested the cult pseudo personality is doubling, as well as other research that suggested it might be the development of a false self, or even simply dissociation. While all three of these hypotheses could be true, it’s helpful to first have a little bit of understanding of how personality and one’s sense of “self” develops. 

What is Personality Anyway?

This could be the most rapid tour of personality development you’re ever likely to read. But for the sake of understanding the phenomena of cult pseudo personalities, here we go with the basics!  The most popular line of thinking these days is that personality has five key aspects. The “Big five” as they are called, include openness, conscientiousness, extraversion, agreeableness, and my favourite, neuroticism. Openness is broadly defined as creativity and responsiveness to life’s only constant — change. Conscientiousness covers things like well, conscientiousness (circular reasoning is circular!). It also covers attention to detail and organisation. Extraversion is that old scale of socialness and expressiveness. Agreeableness refers to your ability to play nice with the other kids and be genuinely interested in them. And finally, neuroticism is all about mood and stability. Frankly, I think that last one is what makes a person truly interesting. But I’m a little fascinated by the human condition in general. People watchers, say what?

Beyond the big five, many theories exist. One of the big ones hails back to old mate Sigmund Freud. Yes, he was and remains to be a controversial sort. But some of his work still holds weight, and academic critiqiues of his work have certainly fed into more recent thinking on the development of personality. But… 

He theorised that there were three elements to a structural model of personality: the id, the ego and the superego. The id is thought to be present from birth. It’s primal and drives us towards our most basic needs and urges [3]. This, I suppose, could be thought of as the “nature” aspect of the “nature vs. nurture” debate in personality development. The ego is the next part, and it develops over time. It is “the aspect of personality charged with controlling the urges of the id and forcing it to behave in realistic ways.” So — when a baby is born it’s all id. Food, comfort, sleep, poop, repeat. As we grow, we learn to not poop ourselves in public. We learn to behave, not to throw tantrums (well, some of us learn this), and we learn how to interact with the society around us. Those primal urges and needs remain. But we keep it polite with a functioning ego. 

Then there’s the superego. This is the seat of all our ideals, morals and values. Usually, it’s our parents and culture that play big roles in the development of this part of our personality. 

So! While other theorists such as Piaget, Erikson and Kohlberg had thoughts about which key ages and stages exist in personality development, and how they flow together, my tiny, unqualified brain sees Freud’s id, ego and superego as well as the Big Five to be the most important in the cult pseudo-personality. Bookmark that. But first, let’s talk about a person’s sense of self. 

What is the “Self”?

This is a complex question to answer succinctly, but it’s a phenomenon including more than 80 facets and the truth is that the “Self” develops over the lifespan and intersects with personality. [4] But there’s an irony that comes into our self-concept — we think about ourselves almost entirely in relation to other people. Our sense of self-concept is essentially our beliefs about our attributes - who, what and why we are. We are, of course, our neural circuits, our personality, our cells, and our thoughts, consciousness and the meaning we make of life. We are multifaceted. While personality can be a checklist and a few puzzle pieces that fit around each other, our self-concept is an onion that philosophers have been exploring for millennia. 

Our self-concept can involve things like demographics: which group do I belong to? Who am I like? Who am I most unlike? What are my attributes and the things I like and dislike about myself? These things are what some call our “categorical” self. [5] For example, I am a late-30’s mother of two young kids. I am caucasian, of German, Irish and Scottish descent (I think). I am an exvangelical. I was raised in country Victoria, the eldest of five kids. I was homeschooled. I’m a brunette. I like red lipstick and love shoes. The categories about me could go on. The ways we identify ourselves start with the basic categories and then continue into the finer details of what makes us individuals as we grow. 

Then there’s the existential self. Ooof. This is the part of me that is different and distinct from others. It’s my awareness of me. It’s my awareness of how I interact with the world. Included in our self-concept are our self-esteem and our self-image. While self-image is how we see ourselves, self-esteem is how we perceive our value to ourselves and others. We compare ourselves to others, gauge their reactions to us, identify ourselves within the context of others, and form our concept of social roles because of others. So there’s some irony in the term “self.” Because really, it involves so many other people. 

Perhaps the most interesting aspect of self-concept is that there is often a complex Venn Diagram that exists in our head: how much do our real self and our ideal self overlap?

What happens in cults then?

A cult is, by definition, a group that exerts significant influence over a person. Five aspects of cultism according to Langone can be seen below [1]: 

“A cult is a group or movement that, to a significant degree, 

(a) Exhibits great or excessive devotion or dedication to some person, idea, or thing,

(b) Uses a thought-reform program to persuade, control, and socialize members (i.e., to integrate them into the group’s unique pattern of relationships, beliefs, values, and practices),

(c) Systematically induces states of psychological dependency in members,

(d) Exploits members to advance the leadership’s goals, and

(e) Causes psychological harm to members, their families, and the community.”

So let’s bring it all together. Let’s say you’re an introverted, slightly change-avoidant and neurotic person with a high degree of conscientiousness and openness. You are drawn into this beautiful group of friendly people who promise you unconditional love and enduring purpose. Their ideas about the world fascinate you. You want to be part of it. You don’t realise you are being love-bombed, but soon you are in. Then you enter the thought-reform process. Some call it discipleship or mentorship. Others might call them accountability programs. You don’t care. It’s self-improvement and you are all for it. After all, how are we to reach this God-willed Utopia, this Heaven on Earth, unless we are all in? At this point, your personality is untouched. But your sense of self is gently changing. 

How? You are now identifying as part of this group. Your friends are in it. Your purpose is in it, and your existential self is beginning to become intertwined with it. We don’t often reflect on the fact that the “self” develops and changes over time. So you don’t scrutinise the fact that your values, morals and ethics might be changing to assimilate with the group. Many cults have an emphasis on a certain way of viewing the world, and thus, continuing to be part of this group involves assimilation. The degree to which you internalise this and make their beliefs your beliefs is the degree to which your self-concept changes. “I am” a member of. “I believe” what they believe. And even “I am being persecuted because I am a member of blah and believe blah blah.” 

Years pass. You marry into the group. You have kids in the group. You raise your kids according to the requirements of the group. You socialise, educate, discipline, evangelise and dream according to the will of the group or its leader. Your mood becomes influenced by activities within the group. In a high-demand group or cult, it is foreseeable that your whole self-concept could become swallowed up in a sort of group-think or hive mind. While aspects of you may remain distinct, the group’s characteristics become so important that it’s hard to extract yourself from it. 

It has been said that “if you change someone’s perceptions, beliefs, attitudes, thinking strategies, emotions and behaviors (whether in a cult or in an intimate relationship) you have basically changed someone’s identity or personality.” [6] One theorist (Edgar Schein) talked about a particular mind control tactic as “Unfreezing, changing and refreezing.” I.e. You unfreeze a persons personality or sense of self by breaking the person down and getting them to doubt their reality or themselves, you change them via indoctrination and the installation of new beliefs, values, ideas and behaviours. Social norms in the group can feed into this. And you refreeze them by strengthing the new pseudo-identity and solidifying it over time. Group norms and expectations are hugely important to this process, so too is the thought-reform process. It’s also how entire groups of people can start to become more and more like their leader. Its literally developing a cult pseudo-personality. 

But back to our example (which is just an example!)

Now let’s look at the personality. Remember how back in the beginning, you were introverted and didn’t like change all that much? You were also sort of neurotic? Well, guess what. On your journey through the thought-reform process, these areas have been highlighted as problematic. It’s the will of the leader and thus the expectation of the group that you subdue your introvesion and become more extroverted, less emotional and more open to change. This causes you significant shame and distress. You start to hate these parts of yourself and are constantly being pushed out of your comfort zone so you can “grow” and “become transformed” into this more enlightened version of yourself. 

This is where a cult pseudo-personality starts to solidify. Aspects of who you actually are by nature are being replaced. The cult is starting to become the culture and sometimes even the pseudo-parental role that shapes the superego. You might feel pressure and shame every time you slip back into your “old” ways - so your natural personality according to the Big Five becomes less and less like who you really are, and more and more like what the group or the leader desires. 

Thats why it’s not uncommon for cult members to assimilate towards a central personality and take on characteristics of the cult leader. After all, this is the great enlightened one, the one with the direct line to God. Why wouldn’t we imitate that? 

It’s interesting. Someone asked me the other day if hypothetically I would be able to recognise who wrote a piece of writing from within a group I used to be part of. The truth is I wouldn’t. All I could tell them is whether or not it was authored by a member of that group. Why? Because linguistics can even be influenced by high-demand, totalitarian cultures. It’s called code-switching. Those who are imitating a certain leader switch their linguistic styles and mannerisms toward that central character’s styles and mannerisms. That gives rise to what Robert Lifton called “Loading the language.” A topic for another day though…

Shame + Cultism + Conformity + Time = Psuedopersonality. But what happens when you lose it all? 

I hope I’m painting a picture of just how easy it is to literally lose yourself in a cult or high-demand group. Over the years since my exit from toxic evangelicalism, I’ve heard story after story about how women were shamed for being too emotional, too loud, too opinionated, too attractive or too “unsubmitted.” I’ve also heard of people who were naturally introverted being pushed towards extroversion which felt entirely wrong for them. I’ve heard of artistic or sensitive men who put off that part of themselves in favour of the group’s idea of ideal (cough *toxic* cough) masculinity. It’s funny how gender roles and ideas about emotions and extroversion often repeat across different groups wherever there’s a spiritual sort of bent to the high-demand group in question. 

This is also a common story: “I’ve left the group. But now I don’t even know who I am, what I like, what my purpose is, or how I want to live my life.” 

That feeling of being deeply and fundamentally unmoored — it’s awful. It’s scary. And if it’s you, you are not alone. So many people before you have gone through it, and so many people after you will go through it. It takes time to reclaim your pre-cult personality and develop your post-cult self-concept. There can be guilt and shame for having lost yourself in it — but I encourage you to be kind to yourself. The smartest, most confident people can find themselves in these situations because no one joins a cult. You are befriended by the nicest people you have ever met. Then you become aware of this amazing way of thinking that could change the world. You were seduced and entrapped in a thousand tiny increments, not in one fell swoop. Brainwashing is years not hours. Reversing it all is years not days. I wish I could fast-forward it for you. But all I can say is have fun with the rediscovery. And get a therapist. It helps.

Those of us who were born into such groups and raised within have a different journey ahead. How can you spot a single red flag when you were raised in a sea of them? How can you discover who you are when you were raised to be someone specific: formed and shaped for a specific purpose? When your purpose pivots to being free, happy, and healthy, you can still feel incomprehensibly lost when you ask even simple questions: is pink really my favourite colour? Do I really just like classical music? Am I really asexual, or just not attracted to the opposite sex? These questions can terrify us. 

I’m sorry to say it, but the only way through is through. But plenty of us have made it through and I hope that boosts your deterination and self-acceptance.

The only thing you can do is find a good therapist, and try to enjoy the journey of self-discovery. Eat all the food and ask yourself if you really like each item. Listen to all the music and find what makes you want to dance. Watch every genre of movie or TV series and see what floats your boat. Don’t hate yourself for not having had the freedom to find yourself. Listen to your body. Listen to your breath, your heart rate, your gut…

But for the love of all that is good, get a therapist. That is my only solid piece of advice. Cult pseudo-personalities exist. But somewhere under all the layers of the onion is you. Still there. Still wanting to be discovered. 

As to Dr Jenkinson’s question as to whether the pseudo-personality is the development of a false self, whether it’s dissociation so we can cope with the trauma of what we are living, or whether it’s us adapting to an incredibly controlling, coercive and demanding environment? Who’s to know? But over time I am certain of this: if it made one’s time on the inside more survivable, and if it meant getting to this day when one is again free to discover or rediscover who they really are, then we can’t look on it with anything but self-compassion. You did what you had to do, and became who you had to become. Onwards and upwards now, in health, hope and healing. Corny ending with the three H’s. I am unapologetic. Because I want all three for all of us. For me. For you. For everyone on their journey out, or trudging their way through the life after. We all deserve good things. 

Big love. 

Mama Kit. 

REFERENCES: 

1. Jenksinson, Gillie (2008). An Investigation into Cult Pseudo-Personality: what is it and how do they form? Spiritual Abuse Resources. https://www.spiritualabuseresources.com/articles/an-investigation-into-cult-pseudo-personality-what-is-it-and-how-does-it

2. Singer, M. T. (2003). Cults in our Midst. Jossey-Bass: San Francisco, CA. Pp. 77-78

3. Cherry, K (2022). The Psychology of Personality Formation. Very Well Mind. https://www.verywellmind.com/personality-development-2795425 

4. Thagard, P (2008). What is the Self? You are a System of social, psychological, neural and molecular mechanisms. Psychology Today. https://www.psychologytoday.com/au/blog/hot-thought/201406/what-is-the-self 

5. McLeod, S (2008). Self Concept. Simply Psychology. https://www.simplypsychology.org/self-concept.html 

6. https://www.decision-making-confidence.com/mind-control-tactics.html 

My Walk Through Purity Culture: Not a G-rated Blog Post

How exactly does one get writing again after a year’s hiatus? I admit I froze up the first few times I sat down to try and compose some thoughts. Following all that happened last year (read all the tea on that over here), and knowing this news cycle could spin off again at any moment depending on the course Liberal Party Politics takes over the course of the next four years, I’ll admit I found myself feeling — a little over-exposed. 

But nevertheless, the wheels keep on turning in this little old head of mine. Since exiting my childhood church seven years ago, I’ve found myself an accidental storykeeper of sorts. Stories from those who had left or been asked to leave. Stories of those who had faced heartache and loss. Stories of people who had negative experiences in high-demand or high-control churches. Our experiences, though unique in detail and nuance, were similar in kind. And so I became part of the deconstruction movement where we who have found ourselves out on our proverbial behinds grapple with the good, the bad and the straight up hellish. 

Some of us find our way to some form of spiritual practice. Some of us find comfort in atheism. Some of us vacillate or find mental solace in the possibility of something godlike but disengage from the practice of faith because its too darn traumatic. All are fine. That was why I started the podcast (Unchurchable) a few years ago. And because I was scared, having just gone through arguably the most scarring trauma of my life in the wake of what some may call shunning, I adopted a pseudonym so I could write what I knew needed to be written without freezing up completely. 

I talked about theology, culture, and current affairs. I interviewed a lot of other people about their experiences. We laughed. We joked. We even told dick jokes and didn’t get struck down by God for doing so. Guest after guest told their story of experiencing purity culture, but I never told mine. Ironically, I haven’t sucked up much blog space telling my own story at all. Because look - ya girl is chicken shit!

So much so that it has taken me four paragraphs to get to the point. Last week on Australia’s “Four Corners” program, investigative journalist Louise Milligan did a deep dive into a Catholic or Catholic adjacent group called Opus Dei - the independent schools and school communities who engaged in some pretty hardcore practices associated with what we in evangelicalism or exvangelicalism know as purity culture. 

As I watched, I found the similarities unsurprising. I’ve spoken to enough people to know we all experienced a similar sort of artillery fired at our undeveloped sexuality. “Don’t have sex before marriage. You’ll be like chewed up gum that nobody wants.” Sexual acts, desires, or even thoughts were some special sort of sin that diminished your value permanently - especially if you were born without a penis. Girls learned to hide their bodies, because to wear anything “too revealing” would be to cause their brothers in Christ to fall. 

As a collective, we learned that our breasts were weapons of a special sort of sin. Our butts and hips were deadly weapons we could all-too-easily deploy in service of Satan. We learned body shame, strict gender roles in many cases, we were told men were visual and shouldn’t (couldn’t?) be expected to control their desires so it was our responsibility to watch for them. And so we learned to fear sexuality. We learned to shut off sexual desire. We were given either no sex ed, or worse, bad sex ed. And for so many exvangelicals, we waded into marriages thinking we would instantly become sex gods because we saved ourselves for the night that follows the big day. 

Spoiler alert: that doesn’t happen.

Instead, I am now seeing much needed services pop up around the globe as sex and intimacy coaches, therapists and sex educators help purity culture survivors learn what we were actively misinformed about - that sex is good, that women are important, that boundaries should be honoured, that pleasure is more than just okay, and well, some basic mechanics of it all in the mix. Heartbreakingly, I’ve heard stories of sex lives and marriages under pressure because of the deep conditioning against sex and desire that the nervous system has been unable to unlearn. 

Of course you know my story. I married a gay conversion therapy survivor. And while I joke about being the beneficiary of eight years of overcompensation, ultimately, our divorce settles this month. 

There are so many great resources on purity culture so I’m not going to do a big expose in this post. But beyond the broad strokes of purity culture universal - I’m going to get brave and tell you my story. Here we go folks. 

My First look at Purity Culture

I’m going to say that this part of my church life was a pretty unremarkable. My teenage years were spent in the late 90’s and early 2000’s, with a typical evangelical soundtrack including Rebecca St. James’ “Wait for me” (a love song to her future husband, who would turn out to be Cubbie Fink of that group that played “Pumped up kicks.” Weird.) We also had DC Talks “I don’t want it, I don’t want your sex for now.” Actually I think we really did want it, but that didn’t fit the vernacular. The Bible of our generation was Josh Harris’s “I kissed dating goodbye” and its younger sibling “Boy meets Girl.” The books systematically demonised dating, emotional and physical attachments before marriage and introduced ‘courtship’ as the solution for this generation of young celibates. 

Years later, Josh Harris renounced his life’s work, left his job as a pastor, left his marriage and deconstructed his faith. His was the heavy burden of facing up to the damage he had done. Yet the truth is Josh Harris didn’t invent purity culture. The good Christian Patriarchy had been policing women’s bodies for years and it wasn’t done yet. Its not done yet. We see that in the SCOTUS reversal of Roe V. Wade, and in consistent efforts by conservative governments across the world to police access to reproductive health and options for women. Butttt thats another rant.

I completely understand that purity culture showed up as an answer to parents who didn’t want their kids screwing around. Perhaps it showed up as a way they could have their kids avoid the heartbreaks they had faced on the road to happily ever after. What parent could truly deny wanting that? I get that no one foresaw the results. So on this, I am completely unbitter. (Totally a word)

But in truth, this doctrine became our generations legalism. Virginity became the ultimate prize and a marker of pseudo-spiritual devotion, sensuality became the ultimate shame, and we wouldn’t figure out the breadth of the damage until years later. I was probably conditioned to purity culture long before we got the handbook and the soundtrack. I got the purity talk the same day I found out what a period was and the bit about purity took all the bandwidth. Only a small part of this vital chat was devoted to what the heck was going on in my young body. Purity before puberty. How icky.

My first overt taste of purity culture occurred when a group called “The Masters Commission” visited a sister church. The MC’s as we called them, were young people who had been recruited to what I would now call a high-control gap year where they signed over every aspect of their life to high-demand, high-control discipleship (My characterisation of the program anyway). But in this first year class of MC’s, their mission trip come victory lap around churches involved something called “the courtship drama.” 

The suite from Forrest Gump plays over the speakers.

An elegant dancer, clad in virginal white flowing robes enters the stage portraying naivety and innocence. Gradually, we see her being taken advantage of by all these men who only have one thing on their mind and who will take part of her heart along with it. And because you apparently can’t have sex without becoming eternally bonded in a ‘soul tie’ to your sexual partners, by the time she approaches her wedding day, she has no heart to give. She is used up. Unworthy. Unloveable. 

I didn’t see it as insidious. I saw it as inspirational. Enchanting. And there was this bit about redemption and being forgiven for having the sex (or the intimate connection). I can’t really remember the details. But I do remember being absolutely taken with the artistry and thus the message of the courtship drama. 

Something sinister happened beneath this veil of entertainment though: us girls all cast ourselves as the dancer, and cast men as those who would want to take from us. The boys likely cast themselves as deserving of our virginity (and that is something poor Josh Harris has had to deal with in his deconstruction). All of us cast sex and sensuality before marriage as evil. During that week, we heard about how we aren’t designed to switch off half way. How if you’re kissing, you’re going to want to go the whole way. Therefore, we needed to not engage with desire at all, lest we do the sex, catch pregnancy and demons, and then be judged by God and die (I exaggerate here, of course. But the fear was there in the subtext). I think, on a subliminal level, I and others likely associated sex with the abandonment of our faith. As some special class of sin, and because you can’t unvirgin yourself, it seemed to make you irredeemable. 

Years later, I recall going to a youth camp hosted by the same church. I’ll never forget how two youth leaders, just weeks short of their wedding, gave the sex and purity talk to the eager listeners at that camp. Oh the sexual tension between them! It was unbearably awkward. If any of us allowed ourselves to even think in terms of innuendo, the recognition would have been “WOW these two want to bone.” In hindsight, its kinda amusing to the point of cringey.

In my case, these moments, these books, these songs - they were all met with a discipleship culture that soon put accountability around what we wore and how we behaved. No flirting. That was ‘discouraged’ (read: shamed). No dating. That was practice for divorce. We learned that courtship was the way. We would submit our crushes to the pastor who would pray about it and become the romantic intermediary who would either approach the desired party or advise against the match. Most of us participated in this wholeheartedly, having internalised the pseudo-biblical doctrine of policing womens bodies and repackaged as a better way to love. Over the years, more than one couple in my orbit decided to “date” and I recall how many soon found themselves pressured to leave, removed from leadership or service, or even publicly chastised for their choices and their sexual ‘sins’ made fodder for the leadership and thus gossip for the whole church. The majority left, and as this happened, the ‘covenant’ relationships they experienced inside the church vanished into thin air (as numerous survivors have recounted to me. This also lines up with my observation and my own experience in leaving).

As the pastors eldest daughter, I found myself saddled with a triple bag of fun here: purity culture pressure in and of itself. I have a naturally bubbly nature and thus innocent flirting comes naturally to me. But it was not okay. I learned to suppress part of my personality. Being a pastors kid was the second part of my triple burden. I knew people looked to our family as being an example. My parents were regularly praised as being the ideal parents. Others would model their parenting after my parents methods, and a number of ex members recall how my parents began to usurp their natural parents in terms of affection and influence. Finally, I was an eldest child and thus the example for my younger siblings. The pressure was immense. Not only was I at war with my natural disposition, I felt as if I was in an unwanted spotlight where every action and inaction had consequences. I was paralysed with fear every time a guy showed interest in me, and so I began to  mentally block out desire and try to subdue personality. 

When I was 27, my dad finally suggested a match to me that I didn’t turn down. There had been several before that, but I’d proven difficult to charm. In truth, I was in a complementarian system that believed in female submission and male headship. I wasn’t suited to that life. I wanted to think, and achieve, and fly. Finally, Dad had suggested someone who already treated me as an equal - who even looked up to me. 

As 60 minutes and The Age will tell you, that didn’t turn out ideally. My intended life-long love was gay. A survivor of gay conversion therapy which - spoiler alert - does not work and does immense harm. 

I was 29 when I married. And only days prior, I’d gotten the sex talk from my mother in the Bunnings cafe. Mortifying. Especially because she yelled it over the sound of coffee being burned to oblivion, and because she was unaware that I’d been dispensing the puberty talk to people who refused to read “preparing for adolescence” by James Dobson for quite some years now. I’d also been a bra fitter for 5 years. Don’t know how I got away with that. 

So my first kiss was - lengthy - and only two days before my wedding. 

Fast forward two days and its time for purity culture to make good on its promise to transform both of us, instantly, from chaste virgins as pure as the driven snow to sex god and goddess who are absolutely sexually compatible and swinging from the rafters. 

Yeah nah. Not what happened. 

My beloved had been promised a coy bride who would need to be coaxed and encouraged beyond her virginal timidity. What he got as a horny almost-nympho with a damn good lingerie collection, and a “hell yeah! Did not become the 30 year old virgin, let’s make up for lost time” attitude. 

It threw him for a loop and destroyed the programming he had subjected himself to with both purity culture and gay conversion therapy. 

There was probably also a “holy shit, I really am gay” moment in there too. But we got through eight beautiful, complex, incredible, joyful years of marriage before he acknowledged that this was unsustainable. And before you go thinking they were sexless years of marriage - no. I’d give details, but they’re mine. And I’m sure they’d horrify the people who read my blog for the sake of rage. (You’re welcome guys)

I never thought I’d have to deconstruct my faith. Nor did I think I’d have to deconstruct purity culture. What came next for me was a shocker.

Life after Separation

There we were: newly separated, still living together and traversing a pandemic, a massive relocation to three hours away from the town we had called home, parenting two young kids, and for me, recovering from the physical toll of two full term pregnancies (and five miscarriages). Being that I have a neural tube defect which manifests as both a congenital and degenerative back condition, I found mobility to be a huge challenge and had to relearn some basics after trimester three. So look, when the Physio wouldn’t even let me walk 500 metres unassisted, you can bet your arse losing the mummy tummy wasn’t high on the list of priorities. The stress of the years had also etched deep worry lines into my forehead. Dating, let alone adopting the “fuck the pain away” mantra so many of my more sexually liberated divorced deconstructors adopt - well that didn’t happen for me. 

I had to learn to love my body for surviving all it had allowed me to survive. I had to allow myself to spend money on my appearance - as I also had to realise that prioritising myself was prioritising my children. 

I think in that first year I went on 19 first dates and I purposefully tanked them all. It took me a long time to realise that purity culture had taught me to either shut off or want it all. And the internalised slut shaming for even wanting more than a meal together and a handshake was something I wore like an armour. I was seeing someone for about six months there. But I also had to learn that I shouldn’t just accept the guy who wants me - that I was also desirable, smart, vivacious and had the right to choose the guy I wanted. Ironically, choice-making was something I believe purity culture robbed me of. "God" chose. And we just had to hope we liked the choice.

I also had to learn to stop mirroring my date. I recognised that I would instantly, upon meeting in person, assess what this person wanted me to be and I’d switch into being that girl. It was a trauma response, no doubt. I’d somehow learned this thing where women are safe when the men we are with aren’t threatened by us. But it also came with the idea that men as these bad, sex-obsessed things with no self-control. I had to learn my way through that mental barrier (and to learn how to pick the bitcoin bros, from the fuckbois, to the nice guys who are worth your time but not quite what you’re after. Its a thing people. Stay married! Dating in your late thirties isn’t fun!)

I had to learn to say no. I had to learn to understand consent, in the beginning I didn’t even know consent could be withdrawn. I had to make my way through the mire of forming my own sexual ethic, realising the soul-tie thing as complete BS, and had to unlearn a lot of taboos and non-facts I’d adopted into my bag of beliefs. I also had to learn that if I wasn’t comfortable with sex outside a genuine connection or a relationship, that was absolutely fine too and I didn’t need to explain that to anyone! This was a process I mostly went through by myself. And hey! If I wanted to (as my comedian friend Sam puts it) "ride a carousel of cocks," that would be fine! Oddly, I found it more difficult to justify not doing so. Turns out I think I’m maybe a bit demisexual. The almost-nympho is there, but she will only show up in the context of a genuine connection that fits with my personal sexual ethic. So yeah. I’ve probably got a way-less than average body count going on and I’m absolutely ok with that. Who cares about body counts anyway. Thats slut shaming and I won’t do it.

What I’m not okay with is this: purity culture didn’t just do a number on my mind, on our minds because I’m talking about the collective here too. It did a number on our bodies. There is an element of conditioning on a nervous system level that goes on here. If all our lives, we think sex is some cardinal sin, some special class of wrongdoing that will throw us into a special sort of hell populated with the ghosts of conquests past - it requires undoing on a body level not just a mind level. You can’t think your way to normal sexual arousal if your brain connects sex with the fear-type fight or flight arousal which actually represses sexual function. Who wants to be making a baby when you are running from a bear?  When that baby-making action is the bear you’re running from, friend you’ve got some deconditioning work to do.

I’ve spoken to so many purity culture survivors who are learning this. Some of us struggle saying no, because we think if we’ve let a date kiss us goodnight we also need to submit to their sexual desires. Some of us struggle to say no because we don’t understand consent, as women just do what they’re told. Some of us feel shame at enjoying sex outside of reproductive purposes, or shame at developing a healthy sex life with a partner of our choice who we aren’t married to. In a world where ethical porn and erotica is available, some of us feel crippled by even casual use of the genre - instantly thinking ethical porn use is an addiction and shameful. 

I don’t have the answers here. I happily refer people who my favourite sex educator, Erica Smith who works specifically with what she terms “purity culture dropouts” and my favourite sex and intimacy coach, Meg Cowan, who works with a broad spectrum of couples and individuals who experience issues with sex, sexuality, intimacy and connection. 

Where am I at now?

Well in truth I don’t have to tell you this. And that is growth in and off itself. I didn’t really date at all in the last year and a half, save for a couple of ill fated dates that I actually think could belong quite happily in a comedy bit. Needless to say they didn’t go far! But I also recognised I had some baggage to move through and this wasn’t an experiment I’d want to run with any participant other than myself. 

So here we are. Valentines Day 2023, and I’m happily owning the space I’m in. I’ve got a firm idea of my sexual ethic. I know what I’m looking for in a man and indeed in a relationship now that I’ve got the modern woman thing down. I don’t owe anyone an explanation. I finally understand consent and healthy boundaries.  And I finally own the fact that it is okay for women to like sex. How am I celebrating V Day? I’m going to a girlfriends house to bitch about the guy she just dumped from the emergency room of a hospital, and to laugh about my latest clangers on the dating apps. We will eat burgers and not care if we get bloated. 

And I’m going to listen to “Flowers” by Miley Cyrus, recognising that she stopped one revelation short. It is so okay to buy your own flowers, but you can also buy your own sex toys. Because pleasure isn’t the demon we thought it was. Its alllll good. You do you, boo. 

Good luck making your own way through purity culture. If you need to, contact Meg or Erica. They are the OG’s! 

A Tale of Three Andrews: Thorburn, Bolt and Uncle Dan

Look, I’ll say straight up I missed the boat on this issue. My brain was so bogged down in other things that it just stopped working! But seeing the name Andrew Thorburn is still being thrown around in conservative circles as some sort of martyr-cum-hero (hehe, cum), Mamma Kit is going to say what’s been on her mind for a while.

Here’s my hot take - and I know you all love my hot takes — The Andrew Thorburn case wasn’t religious persecution. It was poor sportsmanship and a dog-whistle to Christian Conservatives who want to feel persecuted. Big call? Let me explain.

First, a primer for those following at home.

Andrew Thorburn was the head of a big bank in Australia - the National Australia Bank (the NAB). Following his departure from the bank, which had its fair share of scrutiny during his time at the helm, Thorburn took up a role as the CEO of Essendon Football club. His time at the club lasted 24 hours before it was discovered that he was also the chairman of an ultra-conservative church which had campaigned against abortion and the LGBTQIA community. Being that the Essendon Football Club espouses values of inclusion and diversity, crunch time arrived. Thorburn could not be at the helm of two organisations with opposing values. The result? He was “forced to resign.”

I gag on the words as they fly across my page.

Here’s where the other two Andrews in my corny title factor in: Daniel Andrews, Victoria’s Premier offered comment when questioned on the church’s stance on inclusivity and diversity answered with “Those views are absolutely appalling. I don’t support those views; that kind of intolerance, that kind of hatred, bigotry is just wrong. All of you know my views on these things. Those sort of attitudes are simply wrong, and to dress that up as anything other than bigotry is just obviously false.” [1] (Bravo. Golf clap).

The other Andrew is Andrew Bolt: a right wing conservative commentator/journalist who, I’m just going to say it, should have stuck to writing instead of moving across to host a SkyNews show (Lie News as it is commonly known among those of us who aren’t right wingers). When tuning in to a segment I shouldn’t have for the sake of my poor, beseiged blood pressure, I heard him say that Andrew Thorburn had been sacked. Not only did it grate on me for its factual inaccuracy, it also made me recoil for one simple reason: he wasn’t sacked. He was given a choice. He chose to leave. In doing so, he chose to show us who he really is. And that wasn’t about faith per se.

Why do I say that? Because faith can be inclusive. It can be the beacon of love and reconciliation that Christ always intended it to be. But my observation on the other side of deconstruction is that church and Jesus don’t share a bedroom let alone a bed in many cases. The bride of Christ has got her own digs now and I don’t think the Big Man (Jesus) visits often.

Of course, there’s nuance in this.

I recognise that in a situation like this, it can feel like you are being made to choose your faith or your job. But in this case, it is a patently false equivalence. Here is a man earning a bucket load. Here is a man who is the chairman of his church. Here is a man who can think deep enough to lead a troubled bank through a royal commission. He is privileged up to the gills. Ironically, he left his job at the bank after “he was personally singled out, alongside former NAB chairman Ken Henry, by the banking royal commission’s final report for failing to learn lessons from past misconduct. ” [2]

Let’s think about that: failure to learn lessons. Isn’t that something that the church globally is grappling with at the moment? At the time of writing, Hillsong mega-church pastor is in court defending himself over the cost of covering up his fathers sexual abuse of boys. Houston Jnr. did not report the crimes of Houston Snr. He did not do his due diligence with the legal system, choosing instead to handle it in house. I read on instagram this morning that multiple C3 pastors in the States were up on child abuse charges. Names like Ravi Zacharias, once lauded for his contribution to Christian apologetics, died disgraced as abuse claims went unresolved as he headed for the grave.

Our churchianity heroes are facing their time of reckoning and realising they are not above the law. Nor are Christians in public life above scrutiny. Nor should they be! No one should be — regardless of their creed. This is an awake and evolving society that wants to care for all its inhabitants better. If you want to be a cork in the arse of progress, then you deserve to be called out for that. And you don’t get to hide behind faith, because Jesus went to the cross rather than do that. And he was fully inclusive that whole time. (Yes, I’m using Jesus as an example even though I’m not a card-carrying Christian anymore. But just saying, I’m not a jerk. I’ve also never been truly persecuted for my faith. I know correlation doesn’t equal causation but…)

Across the globe, church scandals break what seems like daily. Are we learning? Are we making our churches safer for vulnerable and marginalised people? Or are we failing to learn the lessons, thus throwing ourselves open to Judgement Day, only this time it doesn’t wait for eternity. It arrives in the form of media or the judicial system, ready, quill and gavel in hand.

One of the lessons church has failed to learn is with regard to the LGBTQIA population.

As Daniel Andrews rightly pointed out in the press conference where he addressed the Thorburn issue, “Aren’t we all God’s children?” A point well made, but there’s more to this story. In the world of law, it is said that ignorance is not defence. It is no excuse. Well, here is the skinny on what some churches stay wilfully ignorant of:

- While participation in religion can be a protective factor for straight, cisgender young people, the statistics on LGBTQA+ youth are very, very different.

- A study found that identity conflict that comes from dissonance felt between religious beliefs and LGBT identity was associated with higher risk of suicide. The sample group in the study turned up statistically significant (science speak for “concerning as heck”) elevated risk for three concerning indicators: suicidal thoughts in the last month, parental anti-homosexual religious beliefs (associated with chronic suicidal thoughts in the last month), and elevated risk of suicide attempts. “In the case of suicide attempts, the two indicators were associated with a more than two times odds of having attempted suicide in the past year.”[3]

- While I make no allegations of whether or not City on a Hill is pro-conversion practices (as I don’t know), it has been known to campaign against LGBT rights. Thus I feel we need to drill down and acknowledge what happens when we don’t actively oppose conversion practices and make our churches safe for LGBTQIA people. One study showed young people who had engaged in conversation practices (which are now defined under Victorian law as wider than therapy alone, thank heavens), were at elevated risk of homelessness, mental health issues, family rejection, greater vulnerability to poor health and wellbeing,  decreased engagement in education, sport and employment, and considerably higher risk of psychological distress, self harm and suicidality. [4]

- Analysis by Cornell University found the following when it came to the ‘Success rates’ of conversion therapy. “Of those, 12 concluded that CT is ineffective and/or harmful, finding links to depression, suicidality, anxiety, social isolation and decreased capacity for intimacy. Only one study concluded that sexual orientation change efforts could succeed—although only in a minority of its participants, and the study has several limitations: its entire sample self-identified as religious and it is based on self-reports, which can be biased and unreliable. The remaining 34 studies do not make an empirical determination about whether CT can alter sexual orientation.” [5]

So let’s put it bluntly. You can't and shouldn't attempt to "fix" gay. Not just because it isn't any indication of brokenness. The only study that pointed to anything other than devastating harm with any empirical support was so biased, it was probably loaded with ticking time-bombs ready to explode. All the other evidence points to devastating and ongoing harm.

We do not get to be ignorant of this. Regardless of religious beliefs.  If anything, religious beliefs should move us to compassion and empathy, and the abandonment of practices that do devastating harm.

The Third Option Available to Thorburn

When I watched the Andrew Thorburn issue play out, a few of things were immediately clear to me.

1) This was going to play right into the narrative of those who like to jump on the bandwagon of Christian persecution.

2) Jesus told us to turn the other cheek, and Andrew absolutely didn’t do that. In fact, he pretty much turned to the whole world and cried “Look, Essendon Football Club hurt my cheek!” Poor Andrew.

3) He absolutely should have disclosed this jarring clash of values in the negotiation process rather than walking in, fully informed of the clash of values and creating a pseudo-persecutory storm in a media tea cup.

But finally, another thing. There was a third option.

He could have aligned his claims that he wasn’t a bigot and he could get behind the diversity values of the Essendon Football Club by making positive change in the church he is chairman of.  He could have recognised the cognitive dissonance between his job as CEO and his job as City on a Hill Chairman and chosen to make that place safer for LGBT people.

My hot take is that Essendon offered Thorburn a chance to look in the mirror and see the damage his church was doing to LGBT people by campaigning against them and maintaining a non-affirming stance, and to choose not to be part of that damage. He could have wielded his impact for good. Instead, he cried persecution and walked away, thus presenting a dog-whistle to far right conservatives to jump on the bandwagon and cry persecution. His claim was that it was now clear that his faith was not welcome in public life.

Hot take: If you have a public life of any sort, you invite scrutiny. So be a good person. Acknowledge your potential for great good and great harm. Own your values. Own your choices. Its not bullying. Its not persecution. Its good old-fashioned scrutiny. Its like my ex-husband always says “Its only persecution if it comes from a specific region in France. Otherwise its just sparkling consequences.”

So lets talk about Christian Persecution.

I’ve written about this at length in another blog post (which you can read here if you can be bothered). But to plagiarise my own work and offer you a TL:DR — a reflection: there is a big difference between persecution and good old fashioned discomfort. Discomfort is good sometimes. I’ve heard countless motivational speakers remind us that no growth happens inside our comfort zone, and I have to agree! We shouldn’t fear discomfort. It is part of life and sometimes good things come out of it!

Persecution, however, is crushing, life-altering, and in so many cases, life-threatening. Open Doors USA, an organisation that exists for persecuted Christians, has this to say on the matter:  “While Christian persecution takes many forms, it is defined as any hostility experienced as a result of identification with Jesus Christ. From Sudan to Russia, from Nigeria to North Korea, from Colombia to India, followers of Christianity are targeted for their faith. They are attacked; they are discriminated against at work and at school; they risk sexual violence, torture, arrest and much more.

In 2019 alone, there were:

• Over 245 million Christians living in places where they experience high levels of persecution

• 4,305 Christians killed for their faith

• 1,847 churches and other Christian buildings attacked.

• 3,150 believers detained without trial, arrested, sentenced or imprisoned.

These numbers are mind-boggling. But a further look into them (they came from the 2019 World Watch List) is this: Saudi Arabia didn’t even crack the top ten in terms of persecution against Christians. China didn’t crack the top twenty.  The  United Arab Emirates sat at number 45. Open Doors only carried the top 50 countries in terms of persecution on their list: The United States of America, Australia, and Great Britain did not make the list. Yet, at least from my observation, there is a growing idea that Evangelical Christians are being persecuted, and we seem to buy into this rhetoric all too easily.

In my humble opinion, Church and Christian leaders aren’t being persecuted. They are being confronted with loss of privilege and that is okay with me.

The idea that we, in our privilege as some of the richest nations on earth, with our human rights advancements, our employment anti-discrimination laws, and our religious freedom acts, might be persecuted ignores the very real systematic targeting of our Christian brothers and sisters in other countries like North Korea, Somalia and Afghanistan – places where confessing Jesus as your saviour may cost you your life or your safety and livelihood.

The worst I will face here, in my white Judeo-Christian privilege, is someone calling me names on the internet. Bullying or harassment, but not high-level stuff that makes me legitimately fear for my safety (apart from that one time Channel Nine put me up in a hotel for a few days after a big story, while their hotshot investigative journalist just happened to be finding the guy who had been threatening me to try to suppress scrutiny on my dads church. But thats…ironic in timing and in kind).

What we might be dealing with here is a persecution complex

The persecution complex is actually a worrying mental delusion. To plagiarise myself again (now you don’t need to go read the other article), the Merriam-Webster Complex Medical Dictionary calls the persecution complex “the feeling of being persecuted especially without basis in reality.”

In individuals, the persecution complex may be called a persecutory delusion and fall within a range of “delusional disorders’ in the DSM V (the diagnostic handbook of the psychological profession). In groups though, it is an interesting and perhaps dangerous phenomenon.  I found a study resource online that helpfully described a persecution complex in the following way: “A persecution complex is a type of delusion. A delusion is a fixed, irrational belief that one is convinced is true despite evidence to the contrary. In the case of people suffering with delusions of persecution, the fixed irrational belief is that others are plotting against and/or following them. Signs that someone may be struggling with a persecution delusion include:

• Increased isolation.

• Paranoid behaviours

• Verbal statements that make little sense or are not rational.

• An increase in angry outbursts.”

If we were to witness this in a friend, we would have the right to be very concerned. But with the rise of cultural and political discourse in the public sphere (i.e. media), it isn’t uncommon for people to face off against a strong or emotive and opposing viewpoint. When this hit to the ego (and we all have an ego, or a sense of self) is combined with a persecution complex, things can get ugly.

So what happens when a group of people holds to the same ideals and experiences similar opposition? You have the potential for a group persecution complex to develop. You have the potential for the group to isolate itself, to believe society is against it, to develop an “us versus them” mentality, and for verbal statements rooted in the persecution delusion to be met with confirmation bias and thus become part of groups’ folklore. My fear is that this can then become the narrative of their lived experience and entrench the persecutory delusion even further.

Let me be real here: this is a terrible situation. Imagine believing society is against you, and the only people who truly understand you are part of a particular group. Imagine constantly thinking everything people write online is geared at you. Imagine the mental and emotional toll that would take. I could unpack this a lot further but I hope the case is clear: Even if the persecution is imagined, the effects of the persecution complex can be very, very real. And thats why the Andrew Thorburn dogwhistle is dangerous.

The Hot Take Wrap Up

If you are in a public role and a position of influence, don’t get scrutiny confused with persecution. How ironic, to sit with six-seven figure incomes and claim “People aren’t being fair to me” when they point out the lack of transparency or complicitness in harm to vulnerable people. There is always a third option. Andrew Thorburn’s third option was to take the hard road and enact profound and positive change for a group of people loved by God but harmed by church.

What a missed opportunity indeed.

The One with the Investigation into my Dad’s Church and its Involvement in Politics

Hey all, I’m back. Do you know how hard it has been to keep my fingers off the keys this year? A long hiatus over summer lead directly into a four month migraine, which lead directly into the biggest metaphorical headache of my life as I finally agreed to speak up on what many of you have probably guessed if you’ve been readers of this blog or followers of the podcast for a while now — I’ve got a bit of a wild story and the setting for this bonkers, stranger-than-fiction, what-the-actual-heck story is none other than my fathers church and the network it sits in.

I’m not going to offer extra commentary in media. So done with that. But I will say it takes a lot to come to the point where you actually speak up. I’ve been saying no to media for years , having left  Dad’s church almost seven years ago (and “left” isn’t quite the right descriptive word. But listeners, ya’ll know the nuance there).

The reason I’ve said no is because, in my jewellery box, on a piece of scrap paper was a promise made to myself. I wouldn’t talk unless I was in the right mental, emotional and physical space to do so safely (Yes, psychological safety is a thing, yo!). I needed to come from a place of strength because I wasn’t going to do tabloid or short form. It needed to be thorough which meant I’d have to sit with traumas long sent to the recesses of my mind, and face the traumas of other people who existed in my orbit while I was still on the inside. That meant holding the horrendous double-edged sword of vicarious guilt and vicarious trauma. It meant facing my complicitness while also acknowledging my profound helplessness. As someone who self-identifies as a grounded, badass smart-cookie with a huge touch of what I call Mother HEnergy (geddit?), that was going to be a tough cop. Vulnerability? Ew.

Also on the scrap-paper promise was this: It needed to be an investigative journalist with a good reputation who was willing to put in the miles to understand the complex intersectionality of the ISAAC network, dominionism, the NAR and neo-charismatic evangelicalism which embraces “extra-Biblical revelation” and so easily gives rise to cults of personality and high control situations…or just, you know, cults. And it had to be for a reason other than settling a family score. I’m not interested in that. I’ve chosen my path. My family and I cannot walk together now, or perhaps ever, despite my complex but present love for them. That is a wound that always smarts but one I live with because I know I’ve made the right choice and I know my children and I are surrounded by love.

But the plight of other — victims past, present and future — and the issue of what dominionist or NAR churches do with power was of immense concern to me. To know that the leopard had not changed it’s spots and was now in reach of power that had the potential to inflict damage on a wider range of people - that caused a special kind of nausea that I couldn’t shake. I’m all for religious freedom. But that should never ever be the freedom to abuse, nor should it be freedom from scrutiny, nor should it be ignorance as to what certain practices such as conversion practices or denial of equality or reproductive rights does to the people affected by these issues.

Nick McKenzie turned up on the scene after my four month migraine began. I didn’t know who he was (best in the business in Australia it turns out!) so it took him a while to convince me that the story was safe in his hands, and my agreement rested on the condition that it centred other victims, too. He and the team from The Age and 60 Minutes Australia did a great job, though there is no way it could capture the nature of the beast entirely.

I’m acutely aware of the other stories that couldn’t be told this time. But my heart holds your stories still. I’ve always seen myself as your storykeeper. But that burden is lighter now that Nick and the team have legitimised the gnawing suspicions that what so many of us had been through was way beyond the scope of normal Christian life.

In a strange way, I finally feel released from the cage of silence I’ve lived in since my abuses within church-related settings began at the tender age of 11.  I am aware of the gaslighting that goes on when people interested in keeping their grip on privilege and power try madly to patch the cracks in the dam. But I’m ignoring that. The cracks in the dam are there now. Finally, the hidden things can come to the light. Finally, we can all walk free whether we choose to speak up or not.

This was never about me — or even about my sister, whose rise into politics was the lightening rod that sent statewide media scurrying towards long-held suspicions about Dads church. It was about other survivors - others who know they can speak now, that they aren’t alone now, and that what happened to them wasn’t okay.

It is done now. And, for those playing here and overseas - here are the links. Read them. Your girl is tired!

The 60 Minutes Episode - Praying For Power: Caring church or crazy cult

The Age #1 - Liberal Party Candidate Agent for Ultra-Conservative Church, Family Says

The Age #2 - Speaking in Tongues, Exorcisms and Control: Life in City Builders

The Age #3 - Inside City Builders, the Pentecostal Sect with Lofty Political Goals

The Age #4 - Ultra-Conservative Candidate won’t sit in the party room if elected (this is still unfolding as new leadership takes the helm. So she might).

The Age #5 - Shame on you: Liberal Party figure caught using fake 007 pics and fake identity for dirty tricks

Other Coverage (Who’d have thunk this little blog could be so juicy! But you’re welcome…I guess)

The ABC #1 - Victorian Liberal Party Branch Stacking Claims as Pentecostal Church Infiltrates branches

The ABC #2 - Religious Roadmap to Liberal Party Control Revealed as Internal Ructions Over Religious Groups Increase.  (Side note: It was immediately clear upon reading it that City Builders did not author the document in question. But the article refers to them so the link is here.)

The ABC #3 - Sister of Controversial Victorian Liberal Party Candidate Opens Up About Life in City Builders Church

Rationale Mag - Raised in her fathers church

And for those who are thinking “What Even is Dominionism, the NAR or the Neo-Charismatic Movement), I got you covered. This section is for the nerds. My people.

What is Dominionism?

Is there a Biblical Basis for Dominionism?

Why I’m Not a Dominionist Anymore

Dominionism in the era of Trump and ScoMo

January 6th, 2021 - The Fruits of Dominionism

What is the NAR

Riding the third wave: the Neo-Charismatic Movement

Why its Time the Church Retired the Term “Forgiveness”

Hello all. I know its a rare thing for me to sit down and write these days but here I am - answering a particularly poignant question that has popped up in my inbox a bit of late. It’s the question of forgiveness. Now I’ll state up front that I am no theologian. I am a geek who has been in church for all but two years of her life. I’ve been in good churches and toxic ones. I’m sure I’ve likely been in good churches that were only good on the surface. I’ve experienced and witnessed things that would make Jesus’ roll in his grave (a metaphor I’m sure I’m not allowed to use!) and I hope I’ve been part of a small amount of healing for people who have walked some pretty terrible roads. It’s taken me a long time to stop fearing judgement and damnation enough to back myself enough to make the big calls. So I’m here making one today: Church needs to stop weaponising the word forgiveness. If it can’t do that, it needs to retire the term altogether.

I said what I said. Now let me explain. (CW: sexual assualt and other religious abuse)

I’m a communications professional. That’s my wheelhouse. Thus, I am acutely aware of the evolving nature of language, and that words are just sounds we make. We imbue them with meaning that is then shared by other people and then Huzzah - we have something that we can use to express our thoughts and their meanings to other people. One example is the word I just used: Huzzah has no real meaning other than that its an exclamation of something like joy or applause. Pretty vague, but pair it with the body language of the person yelling it and you’ll have a pretty clear understanding of what they’re talking about.

The meanings of words evolve. I’ve heard it said that there is currently no word in the English language that means “literally.” Why? How many times have you heard someone say “I literally died.” or something like that. Well they didn’t die. They’re talking to you right now, and more likely about a funny or awkward situation - not about a medical emergency. No one died. Not even close. The word “literally” is evolving to mean something more like “experiencing a strong feeling or placing a strong emphasis on something.” It doesn’t really mean “literally” anymore.

So then, is it possible there's a gap between what forgiveness should mean and the meaning it has taken on? I defer here to the writings of Maria Mayo, who holds a Master of Divinity and a PhD. She makes some seriously interesting points on this same topic (in fact, go read the article. Its great. It’s here.) The word ‘forgive’ comes from “aphiemi” which, as per usual with Greek terms, translates to a wide variety of things poorly captured by our watered-down English translations. Words associated with aphiemi include “to remit (a debt), to leave (something or someone) alone, to allow (an action), to leave, to send away, to desert or abandon, and even to divorce.” So there’s a wide variety of things it was supposed to mean. But these days, it seems to mean “forget something happened. Don’t do anything about it. Get on with your life.” As if victims of life altering trauma have the option to do that. As if it’s even okay to place such a demand on someone who has sustained such damage.

Interestingly, the prevailing idea of forgiveness as a mental or emotional condition is much more modern. It “traces to 18th-century moral philosophy, not first-century Christian writings, ”says Mayo.

When you read through Jesus’ statements on forgiveness, you’ll find that he speaks mostly about humans forgiving each other. But there’s another element in there: repentance. If we repent, turn away from our sin in action and intent, forgiveness is available to us. Fine. Good. Perfect.

So what’s the problem?

The Weaponising of the Word

We have witnessed the floodgates open in terms of abuse allegations against churches and church leaders in recent times. I won’t rehash it again as I’ve blogged on it very recently and dropped names. Plus, lets be honest, most of you reading this would have a harrowing story or two pop to mind without my assistance. Sadly, there is a common story that runs right alongside allegations of abuse within religious circles and faith communities (not all of them, blah blah blah).

The modern day church too often weaponises the term ‘forgiveness’ against victims of abuse or mistreatment for whom there is no repentant transgressor. The term ‘forgiveness’ is then taken to mean ‘lose your chance at justice’, ‘sweep this under the rug’ or worse, ‘allow your abuser to keep abusing.’

Classic example: Josh Duggar of 19 Kids and Counting was busted for sexually abusing some of his sisters. He was sent to a church based rehab thing (which I seriously doubt the therapeutic credentials of) and then a big show was made of his sisters forgiving him. Justice was not done. It was swept under the rug. Years later, he is up on child pornography charges that make my stomach churn. The burden of forgiveness was placed on his sisters, the victims, while the burden of repentance with an active “turning from evil ways” was not adequately placed on Josh.

I wonder how his sisters feel. I don’t wonder what they say. I know what it’s like to be a good Christian girl and say the right things. But often this comes with a searing sense of betraying ones own soul. This never brings true healing. In my observation, it re-traumatises the victim because, when what they needed was a police report, a supportive community and a therapist, they were given trite scriptures justifying leaderships desire that they shut up about it. The meaning with which the word ‘forgiveness’ was imbued was made very, very clear.

That is traumatising. That is hitting out at vulnerable people who need the support of the church community. If Jesus was in the room, he wouldn’t be telling the victim to shut up. He’d more likely be throwing a table at those who demanded such silence and who got in the way of justice. I’m also quite sure that, should the perpetrator have a genuinely repentant heart, Jesus would forgive. But that doesn’t mean justice wouldn’t be done.

Remember: render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s. If sin is lawlessness, then there is a penalty for that even if you said you’re sorry.

While yes, the New Testament talks about forgiveness a lot, there is a condition. Maria Mayo writes, "The author of the Gospel of Luke repeats the same story, but adds a condition to forgiveness, stating that church members must forgive boundlessly "if there is repentance" (17:3).

So here is my hot take: The burden of forgiveness should not be pressed upon the victim of crime or abuse. The burden of repentance needs to be placed on the perpetrator. And that perp needs to “bear fruits worthy of repentance.” I.e. Hand yourself into the police if you have committed a crime. Even if your pastor says you don’t have to. Your pastor is not above the law of the land. Not ever.

Side note: Like many survivors of the more toxic aspects of church, I’ve heard the whole “turn the other cheek” line quite a bit, along with the old line about the Bible never contradicting itself. Here’s a fun one for you then - the Bible also says “an eye for an eye.” So while we can shrug off the little things and move on with our day, there is certainly no Biblical precedent for letting major abuse or mistreatment fall under the category “turn the other cheek.”

Just like there is no Biblical precedent for forgiving where there is no repentance. Even Jesus on the cross didn’t forgive, he prayed that God would. Modern translations of the Bible don’t tell us which version of Aphiemi was used in that moment. All we know is that Jesus died bearing no ill will towards the ones who taunted him, as unrepentant as they may be.

Which brings me to the next big point: what then do we do with our hurt?

Therapeutically speaking…

While undoubtedly, I’ve been known to write with a pen of fire (I think I can thank my grandmother, the original Kit, for this gift), those who know me see me as a soft-hearted and compassionate person. I can be both things - fiery and soft-hearted - because of two things: therapy and boundaries.

Not once has my therapist used the word “forgiveness” to me. She knows, as any good counsellor would, that such a word would shut down my processing of all the things I’ve gone through. It would stunt my progress towards peace and happiness. To be pushed in any way towards a certain end would be tantamount to therapeutic sabotage.

Under skilled, qualified care, I’m doing amazingly well.

While I am sure pastors and Christian teachers have good intentions for people when they speak about healing and forgiveness in the same breath, the two are not necessarily connected. Survivors of abuse and mistreatment do not need to forgive their unrepentant transgressors in order to gain mental and emotional health. They need to be empowered over and above the degree to which they were disempowered, they need supportive community that doesn’t play down or try to erase their abuse, and they need to be given adequate support to process and work through the trauma. This includes qualified medical and psychological help in many cases.

When we say “Just forgive” we shut down this vital pyscho-emotional processing, disempower the victim again, and stunt the growth towards healing. As well-intentioned as this might be, it is damaging. I’d argue that the road of true healing, psychoemotional processing of trauma and then empowered choices regarding justice or clemency is the hard road. the right road, but the hard road. “Just forgive” is easy in a way. You don’t have to face the damage. You don’t have to sit in the wreckage and look at it. You don’t have to decide anything.

But what we know from research regarding PTSD and trauma is that the body remembers. Trauma will find its way out of the shadows and up to the surface, no matter how many times you said the words I forgive.

One thing that makes me laugh these days is the contents of my shame shelf. Yes, you heard it. I had a shame shelf. Over the years, following my disclosure of abuse, I was given by various people quite a collection of books. I’d say most of them were gifted by well intended but poorly informed people. They were books on forgiveness, on how women need to be less bitter and then they’d feel better or how reading a prayer out loud would fix everything (*eye-roll). Would it surprise you that while this was the best advice available to me, I was at my worst?

They went on the shame shelf, right next to fiction novels I wouldn't dream of admitting I own. When I learned to laugh at the lot of those books, I threw them out (But okay. I kept the Twilight series. *Gasp). With them went my shame over having faced abuse in religious settings or communities. I realised the shame doesn’t belong on my shoulders. It belongs on the shoulders of those who did me wrong. I don’t hold it against the people who gave me those books. Frankly, I’ve only got a finite emotional budget to spend each day and it would get spent real quick if I dwelt on the actions of good people who were ill-informed. So I choose to laugh at the shame shelf and educate myself so I never make the same mistake, no matter how well-intentioned I am.

If there is no repentance, there is no capacity for real forgiveness if for no other reason than the victim then spends the rest of their life wondering if the perp is at it again. I can tell you this though. Forgiveness, where there is remorse, is amazing. I had the incredible experience of having one transgressor ask for my forgiveness. It was beautiful. It came at a time where I had benefited from enough therapy to have the skills to extend compassion and forgiveness while also maintaining boundaries. It goes down as a red letter day for me, because I felt empowered and in no way bitter at all. That was genuine repentance and forgiveness.

There are others from whom I will never get such a question. My pursuit of therapy has allowed me to have the skills to process that, set boundaries that maintain my emotional and mental safety (and that of my children) and move on. It does not mean never getting justice. It does not mean sweeping anything under the rug. It does not mean denying any of the things that happened. It does not mean remaining in a place where I am at risk of any sort of damage, even emotionally. And if I choose one day to seek justice, it doesn’t mean I am wrong in doing so.

Its rare for me to use my personal situation in such an example. I know this. But when so many people have suffered deeply personal abuse in situations similar to mine, its unfair to not use it as an example.

I have a mixed relationship with spirituality these days. I call myself post-Christian, because I’m so good with Jesus but I’m so not okay (for the most part) with church. But this is what I know: Jesus would not want the church to be a place of abuse and mistreatment, where the vulnerable are further disempowered and their need for justice and healing disregarded or even sabotaged. Jesus wouldn’t weaponise the word forgiveness. Neither should we. And if we can’t do away with even the slightest tendency to put pressure on victims to forgive unrepentant perpetrators, then we shouldn’t use the word at all. When Jesus offers us forgiveness if we repent, then its bad logic to think the same conditions don’t apply when we are called upon to decide.

Just some thoughts on a contentious topic.

You may now hit me with your hate mail. I’ll either forgive you if you ask nicely, or make fun of you at driveway drinks with my friends. It’s completely up to me.

As for the rest of you, I hope you get some context, relief and validation from this.

Peace

Kit K.

P.S. If you happen to go to a church that supports vulnerable people, has clear lines of accountability, transparency around protocols for reporting grievances and keeping people safe, and stands up for marginalised or traumatised people - I like that church. Just saying.

Abuse, Cover Up’s, and Sex Scandals - Church, We Have a Problem.

This past week, a few people slid into my DM’s with the same headline. Brian Houston, the man who heads the Hillsong Empire, is up on charges for covering up sexual abuse of minors. Yes, plural. He claims innocence, of course, and the long arm of the law must wait until he returns from Mexico (!!!) to take the next steps in the two year investigation. Houston famously fired his own dad after it came out that Houston Snr. (Frank) had abused minors. Did Brian Houston remove his dad from the staff? Yes. Did he make organisational changes? Allegedly, yes. But did he go to the police with the information he had and was obligated to report, thus allowing the system to process the charges and take reasonable steps to prevent future abuse? Apparently not. This knowledge doesn’t rock me. It doesn’t even surprise me. If there is an emotion anywhere near surprise, it is my anger and disappointment that it has become so unexceptional. To place doctrine, ambition or empire over person. To do exactly what Jesus would not do.

This from the people who instruct us in the ways of selflessness and Christ-likeness, who we take as moral standard bearers over our lives. Yet, in this moment when justice comes knocking for Houston Jnr, will the Church collectively answer the clarion call to stand on the side of justice, truth, and lawful living let alone compassion and advocating for the vulnerable? I doubt it very much.

As we know, Hillsong’s followers and attendees number in the millions. Across the world, there are numerous “campuses” as they are now called. Last year, we saw another Hillsong scalp fall as Carl Lentz got outed for cheating on his wife. It happened in a year when Ravi Zacharias, the legendary apologist, died and with that took to the grave any possibility of justice for his alleged abuse victims (who I absolutely believe, for the record). It has been reported that Zacharias regularly exaggerated his academic achievements, and that there are multiple sexual misconduct victims.

Then there’s Jerry and Becki Falwell, the couple at the head of the conservative Christian College, Liberty University in Virginia. They were outed as having some sexual practices that certainly wouldn’t fit within the doctrines they publicly espoused. (I.e. One of them would trawl the university for young men for Becki to sleep with while Jerry watched on. It’s called cuckholding. If that’s your thing. Fine. Just don’t shame girls for their spaghetti strap cami’s or loss of virginity while you watch your wife doing the the pool boy. Hypocrite. That’s before you delve into the issues around power distance between a sexual predator and their prey).

The Falwell issue was creepy at best, predatory at worst, and when you throw in their the fact that it was Falwell’s recommendation that went a long way to putting Trump on the American throne for four ill-fated years, ousting Ted Cruz as the conservative anointed one, it gets creepier. It is rumoured Trump hooked the Falwell’s up with his lawyer. A cover up in return for a favour, perhaps? But the pool boy talked (Here’s the scoop on that one: The Rollingstone with some more salacious pieces of wow for you).

There’s a joke in there about the wrong type of preying/praying, but its entirely the wrong time for jokes.

You could be fooled for thinking that these people were anomalies. That there was just too much at stake for these Christian leaders to operate by the moral standing required of them as they headed up these large churches or Christian institutions. Does the end justify the means if you are weighing the life of a handful of abuse victims versus the millions of followers worldwide? The answer should be obvious here: no! In the parable of the lost sheep, the good shepherd leaves the flock of 99 to care for the one that was lost. As groups like the Australian Christian Lobby parade around, crying foul over the Church’s loss of privilege as the institution that was somehow a standard bearer for morality and goodness, this is what we are weighing it against - People like Brian Houston who is famously pals with Prime Minister Scott Morrison, and who is off preaching in Mexico while a two year investigation draws its conclusions that there is enough evidence to charge him for his handling of his fathers abuse of minors.

You could be forgiven for thinking that somehow the sheer size of Hillsong would make it harder for Brian Houston to do the right thing. Perhaps that he is the anomaly, or that riches and influence somehow made it too hard to stand up for truth without compromising the work of the ministry globally.

But there are three problems with that logic: 1) its horse shit, 2) its diametrically opposed to the energy of the gospel, and 3), perhaps most importantly, its not just the bigwigs.

My suspicion, and my lived experience as an Evangelical survivor and as a podcaster/blogger who moves in exvangelical spheres, is that the issue of abuse and its mishandling permeates right through institutionalised religion. These people are supposed to represent Jesus - the model for compassion, justice and self-sacrifice. And yet they do it so very poorly. It would be laughable if it weren’t so darn tragic.

Roughly a year and a half ago, I sat in a courthouse waiting room with the mother of an alleged abuse victim (alleged - because the case is still before the courts at the time of writing. But I 100% believe and support the victim). We waited for the accused to turn up for his hearing. He was a pastors son. (Still is). He never showed. The victim’s mother had shepherded her priceless, vulnerable child through treacherous years, having disclosed the abuse to the pastor almost a decade prior and then weathering all sorts of personal hell as the crime was kept quiet and covered up (allegedly, again I'm using the word even though I 100% believe the victim and their mother). She approached police, who were rightly concerned about the vulnerability of the victim when it came to the timing of pursuing charges. But this day, she had raised every ounce of Mamma bear strength she had, and sat at the court house waiting to face them - both the accused and his pastor-parents. But the accused never showed. No one did.

I later heard (via second hand sources, admittedly) that there was a prayer meeting across town. It was supposedly a special prayer meeting called as “the church was under attack.” If true, then I can only guess where the accused was. And I can only guess what “the attack” was.

Lady Justice was at the ready, scales in hand.

Here is the case in point: Brian Houston has millions of excuses, irrelevant excuses, to potentially cloud his judgement when it comes to reporting the crimes. Count them in attendees, or count them in dollars - whatever balances your scales - but nothing stands up to me and thousands of others who demand that churches, you know, represent a loving God. But what about the abovementioned micro-church pastor? Well at this point I would estimate his church attendance to be well under 50. Does he have the same money or power to justify covering up the (alleged) abuse?

I think not. And yet…

It’s not just the bigwigs that that seem to think that the call of the their god, whatever that god may be, is bigger than the call of justice. This is an opinion piece. Let’s state that loud and proud. I blame two major factors for this gross miscarriage of justice. 1) Dominionism, and 2) Power. Let’s take the latter first.

I once saw a movie, and for the life of me I can’t remember what it was, but there was a line that struck me so hard the rest of the movie became irrelevant. The quote was this: “One of the greatest myths in the world is that power is innocent.”

We would so like to think that church leaders are immune to the corrupting influence of power. But with the growth of influence comes the growth of ego. Therefore, humility is less of a trait and more of a discipline, and it is my suspicion that too few people in power understand this. Still fewer church pastors, regardless of the size of their congregation, adequately discern the depth of their power/influence over their congregants. They do exist, I’m sure of it! I’ve met maybe a small handful for whom I know this to be true. But what of the others, however innumerable they may be?

I once did an interview with Mike Phillips who aptly pointed out that, as soon as there is money, hierarchy or power involved in a community, there is the opportunity for that to become corrupted. It was a damn good point. Influence is just another word for power, let’s be honest. I have witnessed, time after time, that the damage caused to a victim within a church system can regularly fall far down the priority list when it involves exposing the ways in which people in positions of power have behaved badly or covered up the actions of those who did.

Even when it involves grievous harm.

So what if a church of a million closes because the pastor was found to be covering up child abuse? So what if that pastor is friends with the prime minister? If we think that the means justify the end, if we think that our empires and our money and our political influence is more important than a child who faced insufferable abuse at the hands of anyone within our leadership ranks, we are thoroughly and biblically wrong. Jesus said “let the little children come to me. Forbid them not for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

But what do we do when we tell a child that their innocence, their damage, is less important than God’s man or God’s plan? We are the stumbling block in their way. We are a giant, cosmic “fuck you” representative of God himself.

This isn’t true for just the original victim. It is true for the mothers and fathers who advocated for that child. For the siblings who knew the secret. For the relationships and friendships throughout the course of that childs life who are privy to the damage and hold the hands of the victim as they weather the tough terrain of recovery. To them, the question is obvious: “Where is God in all of this?” And the picture we give them time and time again is that he is there, behind the Frank Houston’s of the world, and that the Brian Houston’s of the world are there to play armour bearer and get in the way of justice. It is here in these moments, that Jesus, who came to model radical, sacrificial love and inclusivity, to stand up for justice, overthrow corruption, and model the law of love, is completely absent from the Institutions of Church. In fact, Church more clearly resembles the pharisees and sadducees of the scripture who Jesus railed against, and who railed against him.

Did I just call Brian Houston, and any church leader who values power, money or influence over the plight of the vulnerable or covers up abuse within their ranks, a Pharisee? Yes. I did.

But where did we get the idea in the first place that there was a call so great, so lofty, that it was our mandate, and not serving the vulnerable, marginalised or at risk? Thats the second problem: Dominionism.

I’m going to go ahead and say it: this is the most problematic doctrine in churches today. It’s a big call to make but I stand behind it. Dominionism is unbiblical. It sounds nice, because it tells us that power and dominion is our birthright as Christians; that we are somehow spiritual spies with a heavenly mandate to infiltrate and take over the halls of power, whether they be business, politics, family, spirituality, education, entertainment or health. That God intended for the world to fall in line while we ascend to power. Tempting, isn’t it, to believe that saying the magic words (the sinners prayer) automatically entitles you to riches, power and influence.

I’ve written on Dominionism before, and I’ll link you at the end of this article. Dominionism is believed by its adherents to be Biblical. But when you delve into it, it is nothing more than a heresy - an unbiblical idea that appeals to some because it rubber stamps their desires for societal ascension. Politics is where dominionism is most obvious - we saw it in Trump pandering to the Republicans and locking up the Conversative vote. We saw it at the end of his presidency when his followers blindly proclaimed false prophesies about his second term, and we saw it in the Capital under seige on January 6. This was not a kingdom based on righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost (the definition given in Romans 14:17). This was a kingdom built on ego, and its fruits were violence and lawlessness. Yet the good Christian conscience of many of these conservative followers was absent. Dominionism had replaced discernment, and Donald “Grab ‘em by the pussy Trump” was now their banner. His multiple divorces now overlooked (an aberration not to little old me, but to many of these church leaders who abandoned their own doctrines to support the man). The sexual assault allegations against him now silenced. To raise these abuses would be to speak against God’s anointed, as they like to say.

Of course, not all American Christians. Of course - I say by way of disclaimer. This topic tends to get my blood a little warm to say the least.

The problem runs deep. Deep enough for many many blog pieces to cover it. But it doesn’t just apply to billionaires or church leaders with millions of followers. It also applies to small church leaders, even micro church leaders, who think the end justifies the means or who believe that their great and lofty call is more important than the child who discloses that a church leader did something to do them.

If the church can only reach its goals by silencing its victims, then the institution is lost. It is not representative of Jesus. It is not representative of any of the values it claims to espouse. Jesus told us, in the New Testament about the law of love. If we look on the global scale as churches fail to protect their victims, we have to mark this with a gigantic fail. So if we can’t measure up to Jesus one commandment, then maybe we should go back to the Ten Commandments:

1. I am the Lord your God, you shall have no gods before me. (Okay then…how about power? Can I worship power or riches before You? FAIL)

2. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord in vain. (Oh, do you mean using the name of the Lord to justify things that the Lord would absolutely not justify? FAIL)

3. Remember to keep the Lords Day Holy. (Well first of all the sabbath is a Saturday, so for the majority - FAIL)

4. Honour your father and your mother (Okay. Maybe this one is okay, for the churches who don’t split families apart in the name of “restoration” or “spiritual fathering”)

5. Thou shalt not kill (Gosh, I hope we don’t fail this one! But do you count it when people suffer abuse at church and then lose their lives to suicide? FAIL)

6. Thou shalt not commit adultery (I’m looking at you Carl Lentz, and the Falwell’s. Fail)

7. Thou shalt not steal. (Do you mean stealing a child’s innocence? Does that count? FAIL)

8. Thou shalt not bear false witness. (OOOOh burn. FAIL)

9. Thou shalt not covet your neighbours wife. (Lol. Sorry Carl Lentz. You bombed twice in one scripture passage)

10. Thou shalt not covet your neighbours goods. (Okay, even I’m bombing here, because my neighbour has some cool stuff.)

How did we rate? 1-2 out of 10?

Let’s refer back to the big man, shall we? If Jesus became “obedient to the point of death, even death on the cross,” can’t you report crimes against children and vulnerable people? If Jesus said “Let the children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven,” should we be making these children suffer and bear wounds from which their recovery will be long and gruelling if possible at all?

The point I’m making is this: the Church is now being disabused of the idea that it is above the law, or even that it is an example of anything to society. The Royal Commission into Institutional Abuse (in Australia) was a damning mirror held up to our faces, and yet we refused to take a good hard look. Here we are, years later, and the secular world is leading the charge when it comes to all matters pertaining to protecting and advocating for the vulnerable, and demanding truth and transparency from organisations. And the people who seem to be kicking the most against this progress seem to be found in churches. Or in Mexico. Or attempting to wield political influence so they can continue on their merry, unscrutinised way.

Is all lost? Can the church be rescued? Only if it is willing to look in that mirror, long and hard, and completely rebuild it’s structures from the ground up - to humble itself to the point of death, even death on the cross. Can miracles happen, yes. Do good churches exist, yes. Have I experienced some of these good churches? Yes, I think so. Do I still take a dim view of the system worldwide? heck yes.

Do better church. You won’t find me supporting Brian Houston, or any other pastor against whom an allegation has been raised. You’ll find me on the side of the victim who had to gather every shred of strength and self-belief to stand up and report what happened to them, only to be smacked down and silenced. Because generally speaking where there is one such allegation, there is bound to be more.

I hope I am proven wrong. I just don’t think I will be.

xo
Kit K - who has a bee in her bonnet today.

And the Links Bebe:

What is Dominionism?

Is there a Biblical Basis for Dominionism?

Why I’m Not a Dominionism Anymore
Dominionism in the era of Trump and ScoMo, the 2019 Edition

A Word to Church Abuse Survivors, LGBT+ People and Their Allies

If you live in Australia, especially Victoria, and especially my old hometown of Sale today, its likely that you’ve read a story that the Herald Sun ran about my beautiful best friend (Hannah Lonnee) surviving gay conversion practices, and the church she left (which is run by my Dad) making efforts to gain influence in the National Party and push a homophobic agenda. Of course, the church has denied all allegations. They claim they are not preoccupied with anyone’s sexuality. They claim they do not run gay conversion therapy.

And they don’t “run” gay conversion “therapy”. Nor would I know if they did as I haven’t set foot inside those doors in five years. BUT….

Gay conversion therapy is only one part of conversion practices. These practices, which are insidious, extremely damaging and ineffective, are comprised of far more than just formal courses. This has been clearly laid out in recent legislation passed in the state of Victoria banning the practices. The legislation is clear that conversion practices also include one-on-one “pastoral care” counselling sessions, prayers to cast out the spirit of homosexuality, and mentoring and anti-gay counselling as well as referral to formal courses. It is a subversive practice. It can be quite clandestine, and I have borne witness firsthand to the devastation it leaves in its wake. (The legislation does not outlaw prayer. It outlaws prayer specifically aimed at making someone straight or cisgender if they are queer or questioning - just before you get your knickers in a twist. You can pray. You just can’t weaponise prayer against a vulnerable person).

Here’s the thing though: One does not sign up to gay conversion therapy unless one was been ‘gifted’ somehow with crippling internalised homophobia. And that is why I maintain almost complete disbelief when any church is accused of engaging in such practices and denies all wrongdoing. We know the Bible says “Thou Shalt Not Lie/ Deceive / Bear False Witness,” but history has shown us time and time again that church institutions can be quite capable of suppressing truth in the interest self-preservation,

I will also say this: if you are a victim of any sort of of religious abuse, abuse in a religious or church community, or indeed toxic or dogmatic groups such as problematic churches or cults, it can be triggering as heck to see denials from a church like City Builders Church.

So I want to say this: I back Hannah’s story 100% (If you missed it, here is the link and here are some pictures - 1, 2, and 3). I back Patrick’s story 100% (which you can read here). It also includes some pictures from a gay conversion therapy manual which…oh shock…does actually exist.

I wish to juxtapose the church’s statement that they are “Not preoccupied with anyones sexual identity” and that they are “focused on the spiritual growth of the individual” against a few things.

Firstly, local memory doesn’t have to go back too far to remember Heidi McIvor (current assistant pastor at City Builders) was in the Australian Christian Lobby’s ads opposing Marriage Equality. At a time of peak bullying flying about in all directions, this church had one of its leaders on the frontlines speaking out against gay rights. So I would argue that this wasn’t too focused on the spiritual growth of any individual as stated in the rebuttal the church offered the Herald Sun, but plain and simple efforts at opposing LGBT rights.

Secondly, the piece today was (in my humble opinion) a politically motivated piece dealing with a problem the National party has - far right branch stacking and a proposal to be put to the State Conference tomorrow, that the National Party flip its stance on gay conversion therapy after supporting its ban just months ago (This was covered on ABC drive time radio and National Party Victorian Party Leader, Peter Walsh spoke about - artfully I must say). Again. This isn’t about the spiritual growth of the individual. This is about opposition to the health, wellbeing, and sexual identity of LGBT+ people and attempting to wrestle back the right to engage in practices they claim not to engage in.

Totally believable, right?

I hope we all see through these denials. Indeed, I’d argue that globally, churches are losing their credibility en masse when it comes to denying wrongdoing (Ravi Zacharias, that Liberty University cuckold guy, and a bunch of Hillsongers spring to mind).

Anyway! This is a hard day for me. I am aware that it might be a hard day for others who have left this group and groups like it. It’s a day when I am revisited by all the grief, loss, trauma, isolation, and all the things I experienced in the wake of leaving the church. Its a day when I see such denials and remember how my own abuse was mishandled and denied. The love I feel for my family is complicated but present. But the damage I have suffered, and Hannah and others have suffered is never far from my mind.

I am proud of Hannah for telling her story, which I affirm one hundred percent. (And just for the record, I would certainly feel like I had to ‘report positive outcomes’ if I felt my place in a community was at risk if anyone knew my truth. Wouldn’t you? Thus, it is not a denial but an indicator of the pressure Hannah must have felt to conform)

Someone once said “The most powerful thing you have is your story.”

And kudos to Hannah for telling hers.

Anyway. The point of this post (which I acknowledge is a little more emotional than my normal patter). This is a hard day. I know it will be a hard day for others too. So I wanted to post some resources for other trauma survivors and or people who need more information. Here comes the barrage of links. Buckle up buttercup. Access what you need to.

The Help Lines:

If you have found any news content distressing, please do not hesitate to call Lifeline on 13 11 14 or Q-life on 1800 184 527 or hit up their website. Qlife is an organisation that is specifically for LGBTQIA+ people and their peers. I have heard rave reviews about their staff.

Please. Call if you need to speak to someone. Call if you are feeling distressed. You don’t have to be suicidal in order to get help. Distress, grief, confusion, anger - all of these things can be hard to work through because they are traumatic. Please call earlier rather than later.

Last mention in terms of help is your doctor. If you have ongoing feelings of depression, anxiety, mood changes, or difficulty dealing with trauma - call your local doctor and get yourself on a mental health care plan that will help you access good help in terms of counselling and medication if needed. This stuff is hard. Self care matters.

Helpful Information

This will be a shameless plug for the blog section on this website. I have noticed in the commentary, and indeed the article itself, the world cult is used to describe the group in question. I’ll keep my opinions of that to myself, as thinly veiled as they may be. But here are some articles that define what a cult, and some articles that talk about dominions (the doctrine behind the quote in the article about infiltrating society).

Affirming Christianity

• Why I became an LGBT Affirming Christian

• How I survived LGBTQIA Conversion Practices

Cults and Toxic Groups

• How do I know if I’m in a Cult?

• 8 Characteristics of Cults

• What is Gaslighting in Cults and Toxic Groups?

• What is the Difference Between a Cult and A Healthy Church?

• Thinking Errors and Thought Stoppers in Cults and Toxic Groups

• What do you do if someone you love is in a cult?

Dominionism

• What is Dominionism?

• Is there a Biblical Basis for Dominionism?

• Why I’m Not a Dominionism Anymore

• Dominionism in the Era of Trump and ScoMo - the 2019 Edition

• January 6th, 2021 - Fruits of Dominionism

• Cultural Marxism - A Christian Perspective on a Cultural Myth

Podcasts That I Love

If you need some podcasts to listen to in order to help you get through recovery, I highly recommend these puppies:

• The Confessional with Nadia Bolz-Weber

• A Tiny Revolution with Kevin Garcia (I’m episode 125 lol)

• The Phil Drysdale Show

Jump across and follow me on Instagram (@unchurchablepod is the handle) for some great accounts to follow.

But all in all - Look after yourself. Be informed. Know that knowledge is power and that even on days when you get retraumatised or triggered, or when things pop up that hurt like hell, you are still making progress.

Lots of Love

Kit K.

Religion Shouldn’t Hurt

Dear Bloggosphere,
There’s a hot new instagram bandwagon. I’m jumping on it. Sort of.
Religion Shouldn’t Hurt. That’s the movement. Thats the hashtag. That’s the message. It’s geared at helping survivors of religious trauma to tell their stories.
Here’s why I’m keen to use my teeny tiny section of the interwebs to talk about why it matters.

Sometimes bandwagons annoy me. They tend to isolate one side of a story and ignore the complexities behind it. They can be little more than virtue signalling. They can offer up a quick blast of cathartic venting but give very little else to people who are impacted by dark side of the cause at hand. The “Religion Shouldn’t Hurt” movement (currently trending on Instagram in certain circles) is about empowering people to tell their stories of religious trauma in the hopes that we can gain a little traction when it comes to curtailing the corruption and abuse that exists within some (yeah yeah not all) churches.

To be honest, some of the stories are chilling. They contain details of people who turned to the church in their darkest moments and somewhere along the road, the place that should have been a safe haven became a breeding ground for more trauma. Others, like mine, involve people who were born into churches. We were baptised (or dedicated) there as babies. We played by the rules. We memorised chunks of the Bible, chapter and verse, and yet fell victim to the darkness within these communities.

Let’s be clear on this, too: the church that covers up abuse is also the church that retraumatises the victim. On this, as on so many things, we need to do much much better.

Anyway! I’m not actually going to tell my story. I’ve told snippets of it on “A Tiny Revolution” and on an upcoming episode of “A Spiritual Adventure” but I’m not going to rehash it. Why? Because awareness of religious trauma shouldn’t hinge on the salacious details of someones mistreatment. The fact is that Religious Trauma Syndrome (RTS) is being talked about more and more. There are pushes to get it recognised in the DSM-IV (A diagnostic manual for psychologists) as its own class of trauma syndrome rather than a subset of extreme stress disorders. The recognition that RTS is unique in its presentations is important. This is not just about the amount of people who suffer from complex PTSD post religious abuse. Its about the layer of existential and eternal dread that gets layered over the top of it when abuse renders it impossible for someone to engage with their faith or faith community because of what it will do to their mental health. Too many people are forced to reckon with whether or not it is okay to defend themselves against their abuser, or whether God will judge them for that because the abuser is in a position of power in the church. Too many people have to walk away from church to recover from the trauma it caused, and by doing so face the existential dread of whether or not God will judge them for that too.

If God is love, and I believe that to be true, then God would love an RTS sufferer enough to recognise the pain caused by the institutions of religion and the toxic theology they too often condition us with. If God is love, then we surely won’t be damned for doing what we need to do to recover from the wrongs done against us in God’s name.

So point one is that Religious Trauma is real. Very real. Painfully real. Point number two is that it is conditioned quite deeply. Autonomically deeply, a lot of the time. Let me explain.

In the 1890’s, a Russian physiologist named Ivan Pavlov did some experiments on dogs. Yes, I’m talking about Pavlov’s Dog in a piece about religious trauma. Go with me here.

Dogs, like humans, salivate when they smell food. That is what we are meant to do. Our autonomic nervous system, which is responsible for all the functions we don’t think about (heartbeat, sweating, blood pressure, salivation among other things), organises it for us. We can’t control it - directly anyway. Pavlov played around with this concept. Every time he bought the food out, he would ring a bell. Soon the dogs began to associate the bell with food. Then, when the bell rang on its own, they would salivate anyway.

Their nervous systems had been reprogrammed. We call this classical conditioning.

It is present in every day life. My son vomited his Easter eggs all over the car last week. For the next week, he was sure chocolate made him sick and he would feel sick at the thought of it. Because I’m a dedicated mother, I reconditioned him by showing him he can eat chocolate without spewing. He just couldn’t eat a mountain of chocolate and then look at a phone in a car.

Still, the visceral response of feeling sick at the thought of chocolate once you’ve spewed it all over the car is one type of classical conditioning. Your body responds automatically to the stimuli because of a bad reaction to it. But its not the only way conditioning occurs. One of the earlier, more horribly unethical examples of classical conditioning was the case of little Albert; a nine month old baby who loved playing with the little white lab mice at first. But they conditioned him to fear those very mice by sounding a loud bang every time a mouse was released. He would cry at the sound but grew to associate that fear response with the mice. Eventually it was discovered that Little Albert had been conditioned to fear not only the mice, but all white fluffy things.

Thank GOD we now have ethical panels to stop horrendous experiments like this from taking place nowadays. Anyway…

What do Pavlov’s Dog and Little Albert have to do with religious trauma?

I raise these to illustrate that trauma isn’t housed simply in the mind. It isn’t simply intrusive memories. When we have been in environments that hold such mixed stimuli, those memories can be tied up with physical responses. As such, they can be conditioned together. The dread you felt when you heard a certain person say a certain thing can produce a fear response in you years afterwards when you hear that same phrase, or see that same sign. And that response is deeply physical, not just mental or emotional distress. Your body can feel that distress as well. Common fear responses can include sweating, increased respiratory rate, racing heart, sweaty palms, right up to feeling flighty or frozen, being unable to think, or suffering from flashbacks or night terrors.

Church, for me as for many, is a place of mixed memories. It held happiness as well as fear, dread, and humiliation at times. It was a place I took seriously, because I took (and take) my spirituality seriously. I, like many, wanted to please God. I wanted to do what He wanted me to do. I didn’t want to go to Hell. I gave great weight to the teachings of those who took the pulpit. I was raised to believe certain pastors and leaders without ever questioning. Immediate, unquestioning obedience was the expectation.

Church is also a place where one can reach an altered state of consciousness. We do this in worship and in extended prayer sessions. In evangelicalism or neocharismatic practice particularly, these sessions can be hours long, and involve praying in tongues for extended periods of time, yelling in agreement with someone regardless of what they are saying. The logical brain is cast off as we “put to death the flesh” and “Press in to the spirit.” It is an altered state of consciousness.

For the person who has been traumatised in religious settings or by people they were exposed to at church, this is a toxic mix. This toxic combination of mixed memories, orientation towards pleasing God and by virtue of that the church leaders, the music, the prayer, the altered state of consciousness, the friendships, the happiness, the theology (good and bad), the sights, the smells, the sounds - it can all elicit a trauma response from the body that has been designed to protect you. And you can’t just undo this conditioning by acknowledging it. This work takes time, because it isn’t just your mind that learned it. Your body and your primal brain systems did too.

So your body and brain do what they are meant to do. They go into survival mode.

When we say church shouldn’t hurt, it isn’t just about a bad experience. It is about something that goes far deeper than that. Church shouldn’t condition you to fear. It shouldn’t result in people suffering from complex PTSD. It shouldn’t result in abuse or abuse coverups that retraumatise a victim.

It shouldn’t cost good dollars in therapy sessions to recover from this conditioning that elicits visceral, bodily survival responses and fires off the fear responses in the brain.

Yet this is what it does for so many. I’m happy to say that recovery is possible, and that reclaiming a spiritual practice that sits right with you is absolutely possible. There are some amazing voices out there on social media who are leading the way when it comes to deconstructing toxic theology and toxic religious experiences, and my hope is that these show RTS sufferers that they aren’t alone. I know that many of these voices have been instrumental in my own recovery and reclaiming of my authentic self. I hope they are for you too.

If you have been touched by the “Religion Shouldn’t Hurt” movement, if you have suffered trauma in church, please know that recovery is work that takes time and often a good therapist. You are not alone in your suffering. Don’t be alone in your recovery.

Religion, spirituality, should be positive. It should be uplifting. It should inspire us to be our freest, truest, most altruistic selves. It should surround us with love and community. It should bring solace in our most difficult moments but remind us that we can make it through. It should empower. It should care. If these things are missing from the iteration of religion or spirituality that you are experiencing, then I would encourage you to ask yourself, is this what Jesus would do to me? If the answer is no, get out of there and don’t look back. There is a community of people out here who have deconstructed from toxic religion and found a way to be free. Many of us are in therapy and highly recommend it. We all sit at different places on the spirituality spectrum. We (Should) all affirm your right to find your own way and are here to support you if you need it.

That and your local doctor and therapist. I cannot emphasise that enough.

Sending all the love.

Be well. Be free

Kit K.

Surrendering the Fated Romance

Earlier this week, I jumped on a Zoom call with a dear friend of mine (the fabulous, insightful and brave as heck, Carrie Maya). We were just two friends, chatting, catching up, pretending to attempt to do some work side by side because this whole work from home jam can be tough. And then we started talking about dating. And purity culture. And the fated romances we had both been taught to wait for. In past lives, we had sung the songs (Cue Rebecca St. James’ “Wait for me”), and we had read the books, the most famous of which would be Josh Harris’s “I kissed dating goodbye” (although now, as I dive into the archives, purity culture had gone before him. Long before him. I kinda feel like he was set up, just like we were).

As Carrie started talking about the fated romance and musing about how brave I was to actually be tiptoeing into the weird waters of dating, I mused that in a way, I felt like I was still saving myself for marriage, and found it difficult to get past that notion. It rang true for both of us - unnervingly so. In a “Why the heck did I acknowledge that?” kind of way.

Carrie and I come from slightly different places on this, because our deconstruction journeys and our romantic lives have been different. But it affected us both anyway. You can read her courageous dialogue on it here, and it wouldn’t even slightly do it justice for me to try and explain the complexity and honesty with which she approached this topic. Trigger warnings apply.

My position is this: I waited for “the one.” We were set up by my dad, who was also our pastor. After our breakup, our reunion didn’t happen until it was essentially green-lit by the presiding apostle/prophet over our then-church’s network. I was surrounded by “prophets” and people in the know. But nobody saw it coming that gay conversion therapy wouldn’t work. And nobody mentioned to me that there was any inkling of the possibility that he was truly gay. I walked, completely naive and uninformed, into a situation that could not be won. This relationship was always destined for divorce.

It’s complicated. Knowing all of this, knowing I have the absolute right to be angry (and I am), I would also do it all over again if I had of known how our lives would pan out.

I had the fated romance. A beautiful, decade long relationship with an incredible man. We rescued each other. We had two incredible (and cute) kids together. We moved mountains. We laughed. We cried. We gained. We lost. We were meant for each other.

I’m also divorcing. Because you can’t cure gay. Because gay isn’t a disease. It isn’t wrong. It isn’t even unbiblical when you read that book without bias or bad translation. I’m proud of him for taking on deconstruction and the navigating of his sexuality (and acceptance thereof) with such selflessness and integrity. Our marriage didn’t dissolve. It evolved beyond.

Anyway. Here I am at age 37, dating for the first time in my life. Completely clueless about how to go about that. I know I’m attractive, stable, intelligent, financially solvent, funny, capable, and fascinating. But golly gee wouldn’t it be nice if I could actually feel anything.

Purity culture, courtship culture, the message that you shouldn’t allow emotional entanglements or any physical contact with a person until you were sure they were “the one” left me feeling almost disembodied. It sure made the honeymoon…different. Upon reading other accounts of purity culture deconstruction, I see that is a common thing.

Disembodiment seems like something a lot of ex-evangelicals feel. When you were raised in an environment that relied so heavily on the “prophetic unction” you learn to look for the feeling. You learn to join that feeling with what you believe to be the “still small voice of God.” You also learn in many circles that, when it comes to relationships, a woman’s worth is connected to her marital status. So as a woman, I let myself dull a bubbly personality lest I be confused for flirtatious. I learned to pray about how I should approach certain relationships so I could get the cosmic green light to feel for anyone. After my first breakup with P (my now ex-husband), I remember heading around to my parents place to confide in my mother. To cry on her shoulder. She ended up 'anointing me with oil’ and praying to cut the soul ties between me and P.

Comfort came in the form of deliverance (which those outside church would call a slightly gentler form of ‘exorcism’). It wasn’t…comforting. Although I think its possible my mother may have been doing what she was instructed to do, or perhaps what she thought was best. I don’t blame her for this. We were all part of a system.

So I guess what I’m saying is this: we deconstructed ones, we post-Christians, or exvangelicals, or whatever you want to call us - we have a mixed relationship with our bodies. On one hand we learned to look to our gut feeling as a way to connect with “God” and hear from him. We also learned to divorce ourselves from our bodies as we navigated courtship and relationships. What is chemistry? Golly gee, I dunno.

All I know is that I can sit across the table from a good looking, employed, stable, financially solvent, intelligent, witty, nice-smelling (hey that’s important) man and feel nothing. Only the feeling that I should be attracted to him.

I can’t quite run with should. And my conversation with Carrie made it clear why. I’m still waiting for God, or some higher authority to give the green light. I had three higher authorities say “yes” to my marriage with P. Three people/entities I could blame for my divorce. P isn’t one of them. I’m not one of them. Dammit, I don’t even call our relationship a failed marriage. I view it as wildly successful.

But still, isn’t it nice to have someone to blame. People often ask me why people join cults. The truest answer is, you don’t. You join the nicest group of people you’ve ever met, make the best friends you’ve ever had, are introduced to the highest “truth” you’ve ever heard, enter a thought reform process and then find that its too darn hard to leave because of all that you will lose or of all the ways you’ll be exposed if you do. But there’s another inkling that nips at my heels.

Its this: We all want to live empowered lives. But we also don’t want to be held responsible if it all comes crashing down. If you invest in the wrong business, or marry the wrong person, or if you fall ill, or are the victim of a crime. Cult’s and high demand groups, even healthier religions, give us an out. We can say ‘God’ willed it and we just have to make sense of it all. We can say ‘we followed God’ or whatever deity we are following, and absolve ourselves of the feeling that we got it wrong. We also can’t take credit if we get it right. Glory be to Jesus. Who ironically never sought glory.

So back to that disembodied feeling. I didn’t really bother with dating during Covid. I just did a rough count and I think over the last 13 months I’ve been on 16 first dates and 3 second dates. I’m a conservative type when it comes to dating - I’ll tell you that up front. But I can say that every single date I’ve been on included wonderful conversation (apart from that one dude who really just wanted to sell me ice - not kidding). But I left feeling nothing. I left feeling confusion over what chemistry should feel like. I had a glass of wine with an old friend and, at the time I was in the early stages of dating a lovely guy. But my friend asked “Does any part of you want to jump the table and pash him?”

I said no. On paper, he was everything. But I couldn’t feel a damn thing. So the third date never happened.

My “aha” moment happened with my therapist. She helped me discover that the way I coped with leaving the prophetic movement, the way I coped with the PTSD from abuse that happened in religious settings, was to move out of my feelings and into my head. While I can aspire to feel things and rationalise things, the former is deeply uncomfortable for me while the latter gives me a feeling of safety and even superiority. I can rationalise what happened to me, and what my experiences of life have been. It’s easier than feeling them.

But you can’t rationalise love or chemistry, can you?

So I’m learning a few things. I’m learning to ask myself “what do I think about this?” and then move quickly to “what do I feel about this, both physically and emotionally?” And then to repeat that cycle of “head” and. “body.” I say “body” because a gut feeling is literally in your gut (enteric nervous system if you want to be techy about it). Our emotions also manifest in physical tells - shaking, elevated heart rate, fuzzy head, sweating, other uh, happier sensations. But we in church were erroneously taught that the body was evil. As it turns out, it isn’t. Our body is a temple. A life-sustaining, intelligent, and sacred thing that should not be absent from our experience of life.

It is but one of the many ways church taught me contradictions that I’m now unravelling. I was taught that my thoughts could not be trusted. Only the spirit. I was taught that my body was to be subjugated, but also that it was a temple. There are so many things left to unravel.

Think and feel. Think and feel. It’s okay to do both. My body isn’t evil. My thoughts are not evil. I am not evil.

I suppose dating is a small act of courage. It is so because I am deciding to own my future; mistakes and successes. I am deciding to ignore the threats of judgement and accept that my own assessment of risk and my efforts to keep myself safe are okay. I am unlearning shame. I am unlearning fear. I am unlearning the idea of the divine as an old white man in the sky who watches everything with a judgemental eye and a trident full of lightening ready to strike me. I am learning to laugh at the “cloud of witnesses” notion that literally had me wondering whether they watched me all the time, or whether I got to sit on the loo, or lather myself up in the shower unsupervised.

Do I need to date? No. Am I unhappy single? No. But this small act of courage helps me reclaim who I always should have been: a woman who experiences life fully, who is present in her body and not divorced from it, who can feel life and not just rationalise it.

I don’t think I believe in “the one” anymore. I certainly don’t believe in one “gold standard” future and anything else being substandard. I believe we get to design the lives we want. We get to create a beautiful masterpiece. And if there are mistakes or “didn’t expect that” moments, so be it. It doesn’t affect our value as people.

I write this today because I know there are so darn many of us who feel this way. Or think this way. This is deconstruction, hey. Its confronting the things we were taught, both implicitly and explicitly, and in rebuilding the lives we deserve, having left behind the Calvinist bullshit that has us believe that we are dirty, depraved and unworthy.

Hey - you are worthy, you are good, you are beautiful, not defined by your mistakes, not prohibited from fully revelling in the joy or success your life may bring. Read that line as many times as you need to. It’s the truth.

January 6th, 2021 - The Fruits of Dominionism

I used to write fiction. In fact, my last novel was an exploration of this festering idea that the western church was somehow persecuted. While I liked the book, the storyline, and the characters, the sequel never materialised. I’ll tell you why: I’m not prophet, that’s for sure. But I am logical. In my mind, the logical flow from dominionist theology (seven mountain dominionism, or the idea that God has mandated the church to take dominion in “every domain of society”) was not good. In fact, it scared me. It may have even helped scare me into deconstruction.

What I saw yesterday as Trump supporters stormed the US Capitol looked eerily familiar to what I had seen in my minds eye. I could not, and did not, foresee a Trump presidency when I wrote that book. Like I said, I’m not a prophet. But I was deeply concerned by the attitude of entitlement that went along with the dominionist idea that political dominion was God-given. I watched, mystified, as Christian leaders abandoned their own moral convictions to rally behind an obvious narcissist with a checkered marital history, allegations of sexual assault, and a thin-to-the-point-of-laughable veneer of Christian allegiance. How was it anything but bleedingly obvious that this pathologically selfish, power-hungry thug was doing anything other than saying what he needed to say to lock up the nomination?

There are multiple flaws within the church universal that allowed for this to happen. Bad theology, poor discernment, prophets who confuse their own ideas or desires with the voice of God, the toxic mix of capitalism, dominionism and church to name a few. Perhaps the most significant issue was the tendency for neo-charismatic spokespeople to herald a “greater truth” when referring to the schism between the natural world and the spirit world. How could that not be cherry picked alongside scriptures about the “kingdom of God suffering violence and the violent take it by force”? How could that not result in prophets claiming supernatural overthrow of election results that church leaders hadn’t prophesied? How could that not end up in protests and riots?

It was not arrested then, and it hasn’t been arrested yet.

Now isn’t the day to go into a deep-dive on the issues with these sub-doctrines that seem to have combined to create a perfect storm for Christians to get caught up in the collective right-wing delusion. I have neither the heart nor the time for it. But I will say this:

• We must take a keen, unbiased look at every doctrine and belief we hold, realising that if it is not good, if it is not kind, if it is not pure, if it does not build up what the Bible called “the least of us”, then it is not of God.

• We must root out the heretical, damaging and unbiblical doctrine of dominionism that has woven its way into evangelical Christianity. Where money and power are promised, corruption can grow. The church is simply another at-risk organisation in this way.

• We must give no pass to subtle or clandestine racism, misogyny, anti-government rhetoric, or false prophecy in our midst.

• We must be about the hard work of reconciliation. Thoughts and prayers are not enough.

• And we must realise that until the church is given back to the marginalised and disenfranchised for whom the person of Jesus dedicated his earthly life, then we are not the church he intended to be.

Now is not a moment to listen to a single church leader who excuses the behaviour at the capitol yesterday, or who claims it was “actually peaceful”, or that it was “necessary.” This was seditious and lawless. God is not glorified.

To my American friends, be safe. If it weren’t for Coronavirus, I’d offer my house up for your escapism! What a mad world we live in right now.

What a mad world indeed.

It’s Okay to be Okay

Well, it has been a hard year to blog. I’ll say that upfront. I mean there have been literal firestorms, and pandemics and all sorts. They’ve all been external though. Then there has been the internal stuff. Late last year, my husband and I published his story of surviving gay conversion therapy (also known as Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity Change Efforts). I had intended to follow that piece up with a lot of stuff on mixed-orientation marriage, but something didn’t feel right. I’m glad I listened to that gut feeling. Because only a couple of months later, he and I would separate. 

Fast forward to today: The ink is barely dry on the announcement of our separation. My best friend and her girlfriend came around to get the kids and take them out for a play because this covid19 lockdown has been hard on parents! Another newly single friend dropped around with coffee because we are allowed to now thank God! She and I sat on the couch with Patrick, who now comfortably inhabits the ‘best friend’ space, and we laughed. Like, belly-laughed. This is our life now: separated,  best friends, co-parents, in lockdown until the pandemic passes and then living together by choice afterwards.

I didn’t think this would be how my life went. But it is. And every day I spend a moment in gratitude that this separation didn’t go the way of animosity and loathing.

There has long been a message out there in the ether about mental illness, saying “It’s okay not to be okay,” and it is. It 100% is. But I’m also learning, here on the other side of chronic pain, trauma, post-traumatic stress disorder, repetitive pregnancy loss, losing family-relationships, losing a community of friends who were supposed to be “covenant” and “forever no matter what”,  having to leave a church that represented the only life I’d ever known, changing careers, deconstructing faith, reconstructing faith, having a whole town talk about my family’s dirty laundry, having my dad take to the newspaper to discredit us when it came out that we no longer go to his church, supporting my husband through a sexuality crisis and recovery from the horrendous damage of conversion therapy and a lifetime of internalised homophobia, separating from that husband because of his sexuality and reinventing our partnership – it’s okay to be okay, too.

It’s okay to be okay, too.

When I was diagnosed with PTSD nearly a decade ago, following a misdiagnosis of anxiety and depression, I wondered whether I would ever be normal again. I had been diagnosed with a mental illness that seemed to mean I had diminished coping skills. Counselling failed to dull the vivid flashbacks (thanks to an extraordinary ability to recall details in picture format). It seemed I would live a lifetime under the weight of past trauma. I felt the shame of that diagnosis, and within my social circle at the time where everyone knew everyone’s business, I had failed to find a feeling of safety. Instead, I felt exposed, ashamed and on-show every time I had an episode. I was finding it even more difficult to enjoy life. That was the unwanted gift my diagnosis gave me.

I was wearing the weight of stigma that often comes with mental illness. That made it hard to accept that for the most part, I was a strong, smart, worthy person with so much going for her. Sometimes I think we can have such a deep attachment to our trauma or to the diagnosis that explained our difficulty that it is difficult to lean into the beauty, strength and complexity of who we are.

Ironically, after my diagnosis, this made my condition worse: I would fear having a PTS episode, which would increase my ambient anxiety levels, which would mean my tolerance was lower and I was more likely to have an episode. Saturday nights became long, sleepless nights, which meant I would march into Sunday ill-prepared for the stressors I would face. Usually, this meant my body would burn through stress hormones and I’d crash on Monday’s with blinding migraines. My long-suffering (now ex) husband supported me through this beautifully. During this time, we also coped with the loss of four pregnancies before finally, our son was born. On the day I found out I was pregnant for the fifth time, Patrick knew it was time to leave the church. I would fight to stay for another few months before realising leaving was our only choice. We were about to plunge into an incredible time of upheaval. I was about to face more confrontation, stress, grief and loss than I had ever experienced before. But something unexpected happened: I stayed pregnant for the first time, and my PTSD episodes decreased to the point where the coping mechanisms I used to use daily are all but forgotten.

I went from having an episode once a week at least, to forgetting I even had the condition.

Despite all the heartache we faced, the years I spent married to Patrick were wonderful and beautiful too. We have truly walked through fire together, and we’ve laughed, lived, and created a beautiful family that remains and will remain the centre of our hearts and lives. But he is gay, and there’s just no way around that. I’m truly happy for him, and am happy that I reached a point of being whole-heartedly LGBTQIA+ affirming in my theology before our separation. That means I celebrate with him instead of feeling a whole lot of unhelpful, and in my opinion unbiblical, things.

After we made the call, I felt grief and sadness, of course. But the main thing I felt was “What on earth will people say? How will they judge us?” I felt this because I used to be the person who thought divorce was always the wrong thing. I had this naive idea that everything could be prayed away, or ignored away, and that which couldn’t be was a tragedy. Deconstructing my faith disabused me of that idea.

I don’t see divorce as a tragedy anymore. I see abuse as a tragedy, but if someone has walked away from an abusive marriage then the walking isn’t tragic! It is brave and wonderful.

I see mistreatment of a spouse as a tragedy. But I don’t see that spouse standing up for themselves and realising they are worth happiness as a tragic.

I don’t see dissolving a marriage because of sexuality as a tragedy. I see living a lifetime of repression as a tragedy.

I do see growing apart as sad. I do think marriage is to be fought for. I do see “til death do us part” as a beautiful ideal that I hope to experience. That I will experience (lets put that down as #goals here). But I am no longer naive enough to think that misery is noble and kids are better off with married parents even if those parents are miserable, depressed and at eachother’s throats.

Once I realised that this is what I really thought, I came to another realisation: its okay to be okay, even if you are divorced or divorcing, even if you have a mental illness (no matter if it is well-managed or not), even if life didn’t go the way you planned it would go, even if you’ve caught more curveballs than its really fair for life to offer up. You don’t have to feel miserable just because that’s what society expects of you. It is okay to separate and feel genuine love and happiness for your ex-partner, and geniuine optimism about what comes next for us as individuals.

Because I’m a woman and I can totally multitask, it is also okay to have moments of sadness, too. The existance of one doesn’t have to deny the existance of the other.

It’s like my friend Bridget told me: “Don’t let anyone shit in your peace bubble. You get to have the life you want.”

So here we are in the middle of a pandemic, locked down in our homes, feeling a little bit caged and realising the human spirit really isn’t made for captivity. This has been a time of upheaval globally, and mental illness has compounded this difficulty for many of us. I like to say that Patrick and I split “before it was cool” because you bet your butt there will be a spike in divorces post Covid19.

But I want to say this: if joy visits you, let it. If you wake up one day and you don’t feel depressed or anxious or caged or let down or beaten up by life, let yourself feel okay. Sometimes it’s hard to let ourselves be happy when we have been conditioned to another reality. Being happy, experiencing joy, doesn’t deny life’s hardships. It doesn’t mean you no longer have a mental illness, or that your life is suddenly easy. It certainly doesn’t mean you have to stay happy either. It just means that here, in this moment, you are okay. That is something you can lean into with a smile.

Why say all of this? I’ve been looking around at Christian messaging (and I still identify as Christian FYI), and I’ve noticed there is often a lot of emphasis on suffering. “When we suffer God is glorified.” “His strength is made perfect in our weakness.” “God disciplines those he loves.” “Let God heal you from your hurts and your wounds.” Also, pretty much everything about the Lutheran and Billy Grahamesque versions of Christianity. It all seems to tune us into our deficits and low points so that “God can be magnified”. That has been my experience, at least.

Here is my progressive Christian hot-take: we don’t have to hate ourselves, or focus on the bad things in us or around us. God doesn’t have to use every experience of our lives as a glory-grabbing moment, nor do I think miserable people bring all that much glory. You know? Happiness is okay too. Acceptance of ourselves in all our imperfect perfection is wonderful.

Over the last decade, I’ve spent a lot of time doing the hard yards when it comes to my wellbeing. I’m no longer the traumatised girl with the new PTSD diagnosis. Every now and then, once in a blue moon, I experience the taste of metal in my mouth and realise my pulse is racing and my cognition is a little scrambled. But now I know the sky isn’t falling; I’m just having a PTSD episode. I now know that PTSD isn’t shameful. Its a normal reaction to a set of really abnormal circumstances. Having spent a lot of time learning from experts and doing the work, I have built up some pretty amazing skills when it comes to resilience and wellness. I’m proud of that. And I’m going to say something pretty wild here – I’m not giving God the glory for it. He knows I did the work!

I’ve also learned something precious: I can’t control my life. I can live it. I can throw myself into it, make the best of it, and take responsibility for my own decisions and actions, but control is a myth because life is filled with other people and their choices and inner realities.

A couple of years ago, I got the first niggle that “til death do us part”might not happen for Patrick and I. So I did what I had learned to do – enjoyed every moment that I could, knowing I couldn’t change the inevitable but I could enjoy what we had. Those two years have been an absolute gift. We have loved to the best of our ability until we both knew it was time to love platonically instead. Now that time has come, our ability to accept the things we cannot change has meant we navigate our way forward as friends with a truly special bond. He cheers me on as a single woman in her prime. I cheer him on as the most fabulous Dad my kids could ask for, and I can’t wait to see how life unfolds for us in this unconventionally, wholly affirming post-separation family.

Sometimes resilience means fighting for what you know you must fight for. Sometimes it means knowing when something can’t be changed and accepting the outcome so that you can find your way forward.

I get that this is hard for some people to understand. I also get that this blog post is a little more rambly and a little less cerebral than my normal posts, but I just wanted to say: for my friends who caught a curveball and whose lives turned out differently to what they planned, for my friends who are struggling with lockdown, for my friends who have a diagnosed or undiagnosed mental illness – its okay to be okay.

If you feel good, that is a good thing. It doesn’t decrease your hardship. It magnifies your strength.

Be well, fam

Kit K

Unchurchable - the Podcast

After years of wanting to do it, and after a full year of talking about it, I finally did a thing: I finally started the podcast. And I thought I’d better pop a note up on here to make sure no-one missed the memo. Unchurchable, the podcast is now live on Spotify and iTunes. Sorry I couldn’t get it on Google Podcasts. At this point in time, Australia is apparently a bit too far in the backblocks to enable! The links are there: go follow them and subscribe.

So why start a podcast and why call it “unchurchable”?

The first bit is an easy answer: I like talking to people. I used to be legitimately terrified of phone conversations and audio interviews (I mean why have a meeting when you can send an email, right?) but I’ve spent the last five years interviewing people who are way smarter than me for work. I mean neuroscientists, functional neurologists and doctors of chiropractic among other things. I’ve done a lot of it on camera and I’ve learned in this time that I can do it. And that I love it. Giving a platform to people who are smarter than me, or who have walked a different path and have something important to say has become a real love of mine.

The second bit cuts a bit closer to home. I started this blog nearly 18 months ago out of a desire to explore my own faith the best way I knew how – through writing. I’d gone through an incredible time of personal upheaval and had to start deconstructing my faith. I hoped I could hold onto my belief in God (Spoiler: I did), but I was absolutely sure my expression of faith would take a drastically different shape to what it used to.

Spoiler: it did.

But the beautiful thing that has come out of this that I’ve connected with incredible people from all over the whole who seem to echo similar sentiments: they believe in Jesus, but they find church difficult.

Hypocritical.

Too small a box to fit in.

Too judgemental.

Some of them have self-excluded and others have been excluded (even given a behavioral ultimatum or asked not to return).

These scars run deep. For some it takes a long time to recover from religious trauma. For some it takes a lifetime. But the thing I’ve realised is that if one person can give voice to the idea that you don’t need anyones permission to practice your faith the way you want, that you can find a tribe that welcomes you as you are (questions and all), and that you don’t need to put yourself through hell in order to go to Heaven, then isn’t that worth it?

I call myself “unchurchable” because I don’t know whether I will always be able to walk into church. I don’t know whether I will be able to commit to the “every Sunday, rain hail or shine” ethos I used to live by. My relationship with church might be tidal, or the tide might go out and stay out. I will always find people who think like me and connect with them, and in doing so keep myself from “foresaking the gathering together of the saints”. I will never let anyone else control my expression of faith or my walk with God though. Because that is mine and mine alone.

Unchurchable is for people with questions. Its for people who have been unjustly excluded. It is for people who have excluded themselves because it was just too darned hard. Church might not be for you, but that doesn’t mean that faith, spirituality or indeed Jesus is off the cards.

I love asking hard questions. I love talking to people who make me think, and even make me uncomfortable. I love making other people think. So this is unchurchable. Friend, we can talk about anything here.

Enjoy.
Go subscribe! And follow the socials on Twitter and Instagram

K thanks bye
Kit K

Coronavirus and End Times Doctrine

Forgive me, Bloggerati for I have sinned. It has been ages since my last blog post. Its been for good reason though, as I’ve just launched “Unchurchable, the podcast.” This has been a dream of mine since around the time I started this blog, but writing was my passion and my comfort zone. However, the project is live and the first cab off the rank was the topic of the End Times Movement. 

If you happened to catch the pod but missed the end times stuff in Evangelicalism, then here’s the scoop: the End Times Movement is a doctrine within Christianity that focuses on the book of Revelation as an apocalyptic prophesy. It covers things like the Rapture, the Great Tribulation, the Four Horses of the Apocalypse the the Second Coming of Christ.

Its heavy stuff; so heavy in fact, that following the screening of a rapture movie at my kids church when I was about 8 or 9, I plunged headlong into a life of avoiding the book of Revelation and always wearing clean underwear lest the rapture hit and leave my laundry-day specials in a pile on the ground with the rest of my clothes.

With Covid-19/Coronavirus swirling its way around the globe, there seems to have been a predictable peak in End Times anxiety and that’s certainly not something I take lightly. In my own life, I’ve had to confront some of the fear that certain doctrines had left me with. It is my belief, a scriptural belief, that love casts out fear. That fear shouldn’t be the thing a faith is built upon.

So! Back to coronavirus/end times anxiety. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten to dust off my writers hat and do some meaty, doctrinal stuff and if I can, I’d love to help put some end times anxiety to rest. So without further ado, there are a few key things that make up the end times doctrine, and when combined, we can see why they indicate that Coronavirus does not signal the end of the world.

1. The Book of Revelation as Apocalyptic Prophecy: The whole end times doctrine and movement hinges on the book of Revelation being written by the John the Apostle as a prophecy of the apocalypse. This also assumes Biblical literalism – ie. that every word written in the Bible is directly inspired by God and thus infallible. Now, there are some plot holes here, namely:

• Biblical literalism is only one way to read the Bible. Some people believe that the original Greek and Hebrew text was directly inspired by God, but that subsequent translations of the Bible have cost us some of that infallibility or even slipped other meanings into or out of the text. There are still others that read the Bible as prose – poetry and storytelling imbued with divine meaning but perhaps not historically accurate in a literal sense. I used to be a hardcore literalist, albeit one who was a bit uncomfortable with the book of Leviticus. These days I probably sit in the second group that believes we have lost meaning and context in thousands of years of rewrites. I also wonder whether gentile assumption of the Torah sits a little further towards cultural appropriation than a key tenet of Christian faith, but that’s another story for another day.

• The authorship of the book of Revelation by the apostle John has been questioned by Biblical scholars. One school of thought is that yes, it was the Apostle John. Another is that it was another guy by the same name. I haven’t waded too far into the evidence, but so far I’m sitting on the side that it probably was the John. But if you are bored during Coronavirus lockdown, you are certainly welcome to dive down that rabbit hole!

• There is yet another school of thought that the Book of Revelation may be apocalyptic fiction, or even commentary on times past (i.e. Israels poor treatment under the hand of the Roman Empire).

• I remember having a conversation with a friend of mine who is of Jewish heritage, and while he was strong in his belief that the Book of Revelation was prophetic and will come to pass, he also remarked that the Jewish understanding of time is slightly different to the gentile understanding of it. In his words, he explained time as like a double helix laid on its side. Instead of being a linear thing, it cycled coiled around bringing certain aspects of prophecy into existence but not all of them as yet. But, he said “In the final days there will be a complete fulfilment of all things.” It was certainly an interesting explanation to this little gentile who understands time as linear. Oh the philosophical arguments we could get into here.

The case in point is that, before you panic over coronavirus being an end times “wipe out 50-75% of the population” event, you really have to consider what the book of Revelation is. On one hand, it could be the infallible word of God delivered to the Apostle John to describe the end of the world. On the other hand, it could be apocalyptic fiction written by a disgruntled guy named John, talking about his beef with the Roman Empire. It could also be anywhere between.

And I’m not going to choose your answer for you. Have fun with that.

Every generation since John, whoever he was, has believed their generation was the last. And we have survived little apocalypses before. This is the second thing to note. I have fond memories of listening to the music of Keith Green, growing up. He was a 1970’s Christian music legend who was sadly taken before his time (in a plane crash that also claimed the lives of two of his kids). His music is littered with references to Jesus coming back again. There seemed to be this fever pitch around that time that society had gotten as bad as it could get and Jesus would have to come again soon.

But a similar thought was evidenced in writings much much earlier. The scripture says that no one can know the day or the hour that Jesus will return for his people. So quite simply, we can’t afford to panic every time there is an event that freaks us out. They have been happening for millennia. The very word “apocalypse” can mean a world ending event like the one described in Revelation, or it can mean “an event describing damage or destruction on a catastrophic scale.”

If we ascribe the latter meaning to the word, then even in my lifetime, there have been apocalyptic events: the 9/11 terrorist attacks, the Rwandan Genocide, climate change, the Covid19 outbreak to name a few. The world is different after such events. We are reborn in a way. Perhaps, this is a little apocalypse, but it isn’t going to mean the end of the world. It is simply going to mean the beginning of a new one. Perhaps that is what the book of Revelation was eluding to.

The Rapture is a key part of the End Times Movement: The Rapture, or the moment when believers (in Jesus) are snatched away to meet Jesus in the air, is described in Thessalonians by the Apostle Paul, and eluded to in Revelation. Most evangelicals subscribe to the Pretribulationist view that all the Christians will disappear from the earth, suddenly and mysteriously, before the Great Tribulation occurs. This will then be followed by a seven year tribulation and then a thousand year Messianic Kingdom. Don’t freak out and think the Handmaids Tale is coming though. I’ll explain more on why later.

If you are a Christian, and you haven’t been raptured or borne witness to the sudden disappearance of most of your friends, then Covid19 isn’t likely to be the Great Tribulation. I would advise though, probably don’t go reading the “Left Behind” series right now. It might not be good for your anxiety. I do have to concede that there are two other schools of thought about the Rapture. Midtribulationists believe that the rapture will occur half way through the big Trib but before the worst of it, and Posttribulationists believe we will all disappear into the sky after it in an event that will coincide with the second coming of Christ. By and large, though, the most popular school of thought at the moment is pretribulationism.

Next up are the Four Horses of the Apocalypse. Revelation chapter 6 describes these four doomy-horses and their riders. The white rider is thought to symbolise pestilence. The red horse is thought to symbolise war. The black horse is thought to symbolise famine and the pale horse to symbolise death. Now, that’s pretty fearsome stuff. It has predictably caused many a Christian to look upon world events with a certain apocalyptic interpretation. And its hard not to. However, again we need to hark back to the arguments made above this point: we don’t know if Revelation is commentary or prophecy, and we haven’t been raptured yet anyway. So either way, there is no reason to panic over coronavirus. I mean apart from observing the obvious hand washing and social isolation procedures, obviously.

Arguably the most popular school of thought today is that The Great Tribulation is supposed to occur after the rapture if the book of Revelation is prophecy. Tribulation is mentioned by Jesus in Luke and by John in Revelation, but has been expounded upon by many end times theorists to include some pretty hectic, doomy conclusions. They include massive death tolls (up to three in four people, depending on who you are reading) and are tied up with those four fearsome horses mentioned above.

But here’s the scoop: there are actually four views of the Great Tribulation. Only one of them holds that the Great Tribulation will occur in the future. The four views are:

1. Futurist – whereby the Great Tribulation is a relatively short, seven year period of trials and testings for Christians.

2. Preterism – whereby the Tribulation actually refers to the past event where Roman legions destroyed Jerusalem and especially the temple. It affected the Jewish people and not all mankind. It is thought to have occurred in AD 70, and to be the reason why Jesus mentioned in Matthew 24:34 that “this generation shall not pass away.”

3. Historicism – which holds that the Tribulation refers to a time of persecution of believers that may have begun when Papal Rome was in power (from the year 538 to the year 1798). Other thinkers in the Historicism camp see prophecy fulfilled down through the centuries rather than in one hit. Some see it beginning with the destruction of the temple and continuing through to the Holocaust.

4. Idealism – which holds that the Great Tribulation actually refers to Satans fall from Heaven and will conclude when Christ defeats Satan at the second coming.

The Kit K Conclusion: Apocalyptic writings are scary. I have avoided them all my life. But having sat down and spent a bit of time in it of late, I’ve found my fears have dissipated rather than intensified. At this point in time, I believe that, even if the Book of Revelation isn’t fiction or commentary on things past, COVID 19 isn’t the Tribulation. It is a catastrophic event in the checkered history of mankind, no doubt. It is a low point. It is a time when humanity feels locked in and caged and that isn’t good for our collective mental health. But this too shall pass.

People who use this moment as a trumpet call to get people into their churches or tithes into their coffers (I’m looking at you, Kenneth Copeland) should be ignored or called out for putting the physical, mental and financial health of their people at risk.

But perhaps the most poignant truth during Covid involves where we put our attention. If you tune into something and expect it, it increases the likelihood that you will experience it. It’s true for when you are thinking of buying a car and suddenly start seeing it everywhere. It’s true for when you are trying to have a baby, and all you see is expectant mothers. I believe it is also true for things like hardship, persecution and warning signs of the apocalypse. If you tune into it, you will see it. It might have always been there. It may just be life. It may just be that you are noticing what has always been, but it is taking on different meaning for you in the moment. It doesn’t mean there are more signs. It just means we are drawn to the ones that have always been there.

I’m not saying that to be judgemental or to say they’re all in your head. Please hear me right: I’m not. All I’m saying is that when people constantly point to signs that the end is near or that the sky is falling, there can be confirmation bias that tunes us further and further into our own anxieties. Sadly, some of these anxieties have been programmed into us by traumatic doctrines.

The scripture tells us to set our minds on things that are pure, and kind, and good. Perhaps the great key to whether or not a world event is the Great Tribulation is in fact our view of life and God, and the way we experience the event. I see this scripture as a heavenly hint towards intentionally building healthy confirmation bias.

I.e. If we believe we are being persecuted, we will see persecution. If we believe we are being caged and taunted, we will experience the lockdown as a moment of being caged, and we will be taunted by our own minds and the dark possibilities they entertain. If we see ourselves as blessed, our future as bright, and the dawning of a new time after Covid19 when we all get out of our houses and enjoy eachothers company again, then that is what will happen. Our perception matters, because it is either a journey into peace or turmoil; a journey into the Great Tribulation or out of it.

Either way, now is not a time to fear. Fear creates stress which is bad for your immune system. Now is a time to use this lock in to learn a new skill, connect with an old friend, and make peace with the things you have avoided for so long.

I personally don’t believe the rapture is going to be a mass event. I believe it is a singular event that happens to each individual at the end of their time on earth – with all its joys and trials and tribulations – when we pass from this life and are caught up into eternity.

My friend Shari Smith has written a kick arse piece on looking after your mental health during this time. I’d encourage you to go read that, and to tune into the podcast if you missed it.

Until next time, look after yourself, be informed, and let good information bring peace and drown out the bad information that only increases fear. Also, go subscribe to the podcast! Now on iTunes and Spotify.

Love and peace

Kit K

Grocery Shopping for the End of the World

In January of this year, I thought I could blog on something substantial and theological but half the state was burning. In February of this year, I thought I could blog on something substantial and theological and I sorta, kinda, almost managed it. In March of this year, I thought I could blog on something substantial and theological but Coronavirus has the world in a state of panic. 

So: how are how doing? I know for a lot of people, looking after mental health can be the last thing on your mind. You might be thinking more about whether you can get toilet paper or potatoes. It didn’t really strike me that this was anything abnormal until I went grocery shopping first thing in the morning and the shelves were nearly empty and the car park was full. Usually, not a soul is around at that point in the morning.

Everywhere you look, there are empty cafes, cancelled gigs and events, and people panicking.

It’s pretty normal at a time like this, which seems a little like an apocalyptic film playing out in real life, to experience anxiety. So this is a friendly little reminder of a few home truths:

1. Anxiety at times like this is normal. Don’t feel bad for feeling anxious. Acknowledge it. Don’t attempt to treat it with denial. I’ve spotted a fair bit of stuff on the internet where evangelical mega-ministries are saying things like “the virus can have no victory in the house of God.” They might be feeling like that is the word of God for them, but it’s okay if you follow your gut and your gut says stay home. It isn’t fear to stay home. It isn’t faith to turn up.

   I read something a friend posted on her Facebook wall today. It was a quote that Martin Luther wrote in a letter to Rev. Dr. John Hess during the Black Death Plague. He said:  “I shall ask God mercifully to protect us. Then I shall fumigate, help purify the air, administer medicine and take it. I shall avoid places and persons where my presence is not needed in order not to become contaminated and thus perchance inflict and pollute others and so cause their death as a result of my negligence. If God should wish to take me, he will surely find me and I have done what he has expected of me and so I am not responsible for either my own death or the death of others. If my neighbour needs me however I shall not avoid place or person but will go freely as stated above. See this is such a God-fearing faith because it is neither brash nor foolhardy and does not tempt God.”

   It is a good idea to follow precautions. But get your information from reputable sources: ie. NOT social media.

2. Practice self-compassion. Pandemic anxiety is okay. It is a normal reaction to an extremely abnormal situation. There are a number of ways to tell you might be suffering from a bit of anxiety. The Mayo Clinic groups them into Behavioural symptoms ( hypervigilance, irritability, or restlessness), Cognitive symptoms (lack of concentration, racing thoughts, or unwanted thoughts), Whole of body symptoms (fatigue, sweating, racing heart), and other common presentations (anxiety, excessive worry, fear, feeling of impending doom, insomnia, nausea, palpitations, or trembling).

   In times like these, social connectedness is important, even if it has to be done via FaceTime, or Skype. Exercise is important, as it gives your body a way to release tension, modulate stress and release some endorphines happy hormones. Mindfulness is important. Put down the phone. Stop checking social media for the latest. Just let yourself fixate on that flower outside or the sound of rain falling on the roof. Tense and relax each of your muscles, one by one, working up from your left foot to your head and back down the right side (an exercise called progressive relaxation if you want to google it.)I had a friend host a Facebook live meditation event, which was a beautiful way of connecting people and helping them focus on their breath even when we are all supposed to be socially isolating. Sometimes connection is easy, incidental and effortless. But sometimes we have to do it on purpose.

3. Know who to call when it’s all getting a bit much. I’m somewhat of an anxiety pro. About a decade ago, I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. At the time of diagnosis, it was unclear as to whether I’d had it for 8 or up to 15 years. Over the time that I’ve been living with this condition, becoming better and better at managing it, I’ve learned a few things. I’ve learned what my anxiety tells are. I’ve learned not to feel shame if I have an episode or an anxious moment. I’ve learned that if I start to taste metal in my mouth, or if my heart rate feels like its sitting at a certain level, then I’m having an episode. But I’ve also learned who to put on my call list. My guy is one of them (even though we did have a giggle the other day because my PTSD episodes have become so uncommon that we both missed the tells and completely confused ourselves). My pseudo-mamma is another one. She makes a fabulous cup of tea, and has chickens outside that the kids love to play with. Hers is a safe place I can go and know she knows exactly how to handle a massive anxiety attack or PTS episode.I also know the phone numbers of the helplines and medical services that can help. Now, I know that at this time, your local medical clinic or emergency room might be a bit of a loaded place to go. But there is Lifeline which you can find here, phone 13 11 14 in Australia or even text if thats what you prefer. There is Beyond Blue which you can find online here or via phone on. 1300 22 4636. There is also Qlife, which is a dedicated helpline for LGBTQA+ people. You can find it online here (which also has a webchat) or phone 1800 184 527.

   As always, if you find yourself feeling unsafe, 000 (or 911 if you live in the United States), or your countries emergency number is always there to call if you find yourself sick or at risk.

It’s a weird time. I remember 20 years ago (yeesh), we thought Y2K was going to be the end of the world. Then there was SARS, which turned out to be a lot less of an issue than first thought. Then there was the 9/11 terrorist attack and global measures to lock it all down. Then in 2012, there was a bit of mystic worry as the Mayan Calendar ran out on that date. People all over the place where speculating whether that meant anything beyond someone running out of parchment paper. 2012 also gifted us with all sorts of disaster movies.

Well. None of them saw 2020 coming. We will weather this. We will all be different for it. I hope we will be kinder. More compassionate. More able to reflect on the desperation of refugees and displaced people when we look back on how crazy we got over the prospect of having to get creative in the event of a toilet paper shortage.

So take some time to make sure you are okay today, and then try to find a way to make someone else’s day. A smile, a wave, a friendly word – it all makes a difference, not just to the recipient but also to the giver.

Peace
Kit K

These Strong Women: May We Never Diminish Them

Hey all! So it was International Womens Day yesterday, and I didn’t write a single thing about it! Truth is, my brain has been too full of paid work projects that have taken up large chunks of my concentration and left me a little worse for wear when it comes to concentrating on my Kit K. stuff. I spent the beginning of International Womens Day in church (I hadn’t been for weeks! Shhh). The preacher did a great job talking about the unsung heroes of the Bible, but he made a mistake and would have had no idea he did it: He called Junia “Junius.” He was reading straight from the Bible, so of course he had no idea of the big little thing that had happened there on the page: Junius is a mans name. Junia is a woman name. 

For generations, translators of the Bible have been assuming that only a man could be counted among the apostles, and hence Junia the woman had been replaced by Junius the man.

Now, I’m not going to write a big expose on Junia the female apostle. One of my all-time favourite bloggers, Marg Mowczko has done a brilliant job of that here. You should go read that. Because Marg is great.

I spent Womens Day recharging my batteries. They had been drained by life and parenting, and taking on too many contracts for work and my guy saw that and sent me off to enjoy myself.  I sat across the table from a friend I hadn’t seen in about a decade, and eventually the conversation turned to why the church seems to be the last bastion of patriarchy in modern society.

It’s an interesting thing. I’ve spoken before about how complementarian theology (based on the belief that women and men are equal in value but not equal in authority) manifests itself in all sorts of ways. In some cases, it’s quite obvious, with prohibitions against women in leadership. In other cases it is more subtle, and I’d argue insidious.

• It is there in churches that almost empower women to the same degree as men.

• It is there in churches where demands are put on the way women dress, lest they tempt the men. As if men aren’t responsible for their own eyes or actions.

• It is there in churches where purity culture hasn’t been deconstructed, but is simply not talked about.

• It is there in churches that don’t announce they are complementarian, but don’t allow women to rise to their fullest potential.

I am lucky to be in an egalitarian kind of church. There are three pastors. Two of them are women. A couple runs the kids ministry, but the one at the front of that is a woman. Women lead worship. Women preach. We had a woman come an induct the latest pastor into her role. I love this. But it takes a trained eye to spot the bad theology gifted to us by years of Bible translations that result in Junia becoming Junius. There are a thousand more examples of this but the point is that little girls learn, in church, that they aren’t able to lead like men do. They learn it because we don’t have the trained eye to see it and correct it.

I’m the first to admit that church isn’t easy for me. I’m in a great church now, but my sweet little fam bam is likely to move in a couple of months and my suspicion is that when this happens, my relationship with church will become more tidal than the steady stalwart of my week that it has been in the past.

So I find myself sitting on womens day and reflecting on what I what my daughter to know. I want my son to know these things too, but I want my daughter to know it on a conscious level not just a subconscious level:

• She can be anything she wants. She will have to work hard. But she can be anything she wants

• She should never let anyone make her feel ashamed of herself, her gender or her body.

• Beauty is obvious, but the external isn’t what makes her beautiful. Her soul does. And she should look after that.

• She should be able to walk through a park late at night without fear. But that doesn’t mean she can. So she should learn self-defence, create good networks of friends she can call on, and not be afraid to whoop-arse if she needs to protect herself.

• Women can be gentle. Women can be strong. Women can be creative. Women can be analytical. Women can be authors, scientists, athletes, mothers, prime ministers, painters, carpenters, builders, lawyers or whatever the heck they want. They don’t have to mute their femininity in order to succeed. Its whether they work hard, do it with intention and integrity, and love what they do that matters to me.

• Being a woman doesn’t mean she should have to work harder for respect. When someone refuses to respect her based on her gender, that says more about them than it does about her.

Look, I’m sure there are a million other things I’ll tell her. But I just actually fell asleep in a cafe, in a public place for a hot minute there so I’m going to finish this blog up, publish it and leave my research and literary brilliance (heh heh) for another day.

So I’ll just raise my glass of less than life-changing coffee and toast to strong women. May we never diminish them. May we never diminish ourselves.

Let’s Talk About Domestic and Family Violence

Hey people. It’s been with a heavy heart that I’ve been watching this Hannah Clarke story play out. For those who don’t live in Australia and haven’t been following the news, Hannah Clarke was a beautiful, vivacious Mum of three gorgeous kids. Her estranged husband, Rowan Baxter took their lives last week murdering all four of them in a horrendous crime that has truly shaken so many of us. 

Its shaken feminists and commentators, and rightly so, as Rowan Baxter has been described as a “good bloke.” Well, I think you kinda give up that title when you kill your wife and kids.  Predictably, the conversation has moved to why we have to stop domestic violence. We have to put policies in place. We have to put responsibility on men. I’m not against any of those things. I’m all for them. But if that’s it, then guess what: vulnerable people are still in danger.

I wanted to slam out this article to bring a little bit of balance to the conversation. We have to do more than virtue signalling that men have to do better and we have to stop domestic and family violence. 

Reality check number one: family violence goes back a long way. It is perhaps one of humanity’s darkest characteristics, with the Bible’s first family losing a member to family violence. Brothers Cain and Abel fought. Abel died at Cain’s hands.

Family violence turned to murder. Now regardless of whether you are a Biblical literalist or not, it’s a story that should be very telling. As long as there are human relationships, there is the opportunity for them to become toxic.

Reality check number two: women can be the perps too and men can be victims. As society increasingly moves into a reality where same sex relationships are more accepted, we can’t always be looking for a man to be the perp and a woman to be the victim. It doesn’t translate to the modern reality. Even in straight relationships, men can be the victims of domestic and family violence.

Our lives were forever marked when a friend called us one day and told us her brother was missing. She begged us to pray. Pray we did, but it was tragically too late for him. He had been killed by his ex-wife and her partner. His children and family were forever scarred by his loss. Women are not always the victims. We need to remember that.

I would love for domestic violence to never re-occur. I would love for there to never be another Hannah Clarke. Sadly, I think we all know there will be.

But there is something we can all do beyond supporting policy change and standing for the violence to end.

1. We can get to know the Duluth wheel (video below) which shows the dynamics of physical and sexual violence. Watch the video I posted below. It isn’t long. But it shows how physical and sexual violence starts and develops, and shows what the mechanisms are – the power and control dynamics that make a relationship toxic and unsafe. If you have concerns about a friend, listen to your gut. Check against the Duluth Wheel. Talk to someone who can suggest what to do next. Extracting someone from a violent relationship can be done, but it needs to be done carefully. Go on. Watch the video at the end of this article. You never know if a friend of yours might be counting on it.

2. Figure out your local family violence services. These services are qualified, experienced, informed and able to help in a safer and more constructive way than well-meaning friends staging an intervention that may inflame a volatile situation. Go to The White Ribbon Foundation if you are in Australia. You can find resources there. In my region (Gippsland), Uniting, Quantum Support Services, Latrobe Community Health and the Police are places you can go for help. Yes, even if that help is “I’m concerned about a friend and need to know what my options are.” I can’t stress enough – get good information first. If a friend or loved one is in a volatile situation, you don’t want your actions to inflame the situation. Call the experts. Follow their advice.

3. Don’t dismiss your gut feeling. If you think there’s something wrong, if you think a friend is becoming more isolated and controlled by a partner, then don’t dismiss that feeling. Call the experts. Watch the video. Understand the dynamics.

4. Yes, we can all hope for policy change, better services, and no more domestic and family violence perpetrators. But we can do all of this too. We can be more informed, more alert, and more connected to the ones we love. Awareness that a societal problem exists is one thing. Being skilled with a little bit of information, information that can lead you to actually help someone vulnerable, is a whole new ballgame.

5. But seriously, go watch the video now.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XkuC3tUgHoY

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Can We Be Kind? Even on the Internet

Hello there. Happy Tuesday. Or Monday, depending on which country you are reading this from! Its a microblog today, because although this particular thing happened last week, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. But first, a scripture reference to have in the back of our heads: John 13:34-35 A new commandment I give you: “Love one another. As I have loved you, so also you must love one another. By this, all men will know that you are My disciples if you love one another.” Love. And again love. And just incase you missed it, love.

It’s the year 2020. So far we’ve had an impeachment trial in the US and the first throes of the 2020 US election (which will likely end up in a second Trump term, despite all recent history). Brexit has finally, after much ado, Brexited. Scomo continues to try and swim rather than sink in the aftermath of a very poor few months in terms of crisis and questionable national leadership. It’s only mid-February and in terms of politics, the Western World is doing a pretty good job of making a joke of itself.

A few weeks ago I did something that is (these days) quite an anomaly: I made a political statement online. Now I sit in an interesting place. Pre-deconstruction and considerable life change, I was a conservative voter and involved in conservative politics. Now, post-deconstruction (or during it – However, you choose to view that), I’m a left-leaning swing voter. So I get that when past and present combine there could be some interesting conversations.

I put a post up on Facebook lamenting the fact that Trump is likely to win a second term even though the evidence for impeachment was all that it was. What happened for the next few hours was lovely. My left-leaning friends posted memes about Trump (and Michael Jackson’s infamous popcorn). They lamented along with me, albeit it in a kind-hearted way. My conservative, Christian friends chimed in with their pro-Trump views in a very measured, conversational and friendly way. I took a couple of their points, as they were points well made, and no one got shirty with anyone. It was lovely; lovely enough for a friend to remark how courteous it all was.

Then a far-right Christian Trump supporter from the states weighed in. That record of kindness got shot to Hell.

Guys: read that scripture at the top again. We should be known by our love for each-other. Love is patient, kind etc. etc. But lets just focus on the first two parts of the oft-repeated scripture from Corinthians. If love is how we ought to be known, then surely it should make itself known in our actions.

In the end, I had to unfriend that person because the namecalling was ridiculous.

Look: I think people can follow whichever politics they want. That’s personal. That’s a choice loaded with personal history, values, and nuances that no one gets to dictate to us. But it has mystified me how the king-hitting nasties increasingly come from the right side of things.

When I say “Right” I do not mean correct. I mean conservative. I mean rooted in Christian values and morals. The same place that, horribly, we have seen the re-emergence of white nationalism and white supremacy in recent years.

I’m still a Christian. I always hope to be. And I know that white nationalists and white supremacists are to Christianity what terrorists are to Islam. But its easy to see the slippery slope into that way of thinking when you see insults and prophecies of doom being thrown around the internet because someone dared write a political post that leant a little bit left.

I was so proud of my friends, both conservative and progressive, that day. We had, up until that point, been so nice and thus showed that people can be great. It made my heart sink that the record was so utterly shattered by an older, Christian man whose mandate was given by Jesus Himself in John 13:34-35 – a mandate to show love.

As we fling ourselves into another year of God-only-knows-what politically, can we give ourselves a bit of pause to think about how He is best represented? We need to fight nice. Or better still, turn the other cheek and realise that politics isn’t best played out on Facebook. Its best played out in letters to local members of Parliament, in taking up party membership, signing petitions, contributing to research or even protest rallies. But not so much on social media (which is why I hardly post political stuff on Facebook at least. I will admit to shitposting on Twitter a bit, but thats what its there for!)

What we absolutely should do is allow ourselves to look in a mirror and take in all the details that our reflection offers. Are we kind? Or do we mock those who disagree? Are we able to take criticism and think about it, or do we react like a dog in a fight and leap forward to tear off the next piece of flesh we can sink our teeth into.

It seems these days as if kindness is a lost art (yes, and thoughtful debate! That is certainly a lost art!). We are all about the truth-telling, rarely about the fact-checking, and hardly ever about the most important bit: taking into consideration the innocent or even vulnerable people on the other end of the Facebook post.

Now, I’m under no illusion to the fact that my words have done unncessary damage before. It would be a rare person who hasn’t wounded with words. I’m always happy to apologise for that when the fault lies with me. For me, words are what I deal in and build a career around. My words should educate, protect, advocate, build up, bring laughter (spark joy), encourage, show different perspectives, and occasionally (very occasionally) bring caution. I love words. I know their power. That power has wounded me in the past, and I am learning to let the words that define me come from my own mouth rather than that of other people.

But I have to take responsibility to my words too. If they are rash, unkind, unwarranted, and calling people names and flinging insults just because they disagree with me, then I am not manifesting the love that my Christianity demands I show.

As we wade into another year full of politicking, left vs right wars, and another year of Trumpdom, lets do this: lets be kind. Let’s not fling insults. Let’s be measured. Let’s check our facts. Let’s be the kind of person we wish there were more of on the internet.

God is not best represented by people who have to be unfriended and blocked because of their name-calling, insult-flinging, and threatening tone. I know the temptation to get in the ring, raise your boxing gloves to your face and give it your best. But that’s not what we, as Christians and as reasonable people, are called to. Turning the other cheek isn’t fun. I know. Luckily, silence can often be convincing, and yelling the loudest rarely changes a mind.

Just something to think about. Well, something thats been on my mind.

K. Thanks. Bye.

Ya Basic: The Calvinism Edition

Hey there. Hi. How are you? Long time no see. I have been absolutely, head-spinningly, crazy busy. But here we are, on the eleventh day of February in 2020 and I’m finally writing the first real blog article of the year. Those who have hung around here before and know me, know this: I’m a big believer in an examined faith. If we don’t take the time to examine what we believe and why, we can end up with all sorts of crazy theologies in our heads and a lot of them can be nothing more than glorified superstition. In a time when the evangelical church is coming under increasing, and I believe deserved, scrutiny, Biblical knowledge a noble pursuit.

The truth is, it is easy to walk into churches that feel good, sound good and speak about nice things, but be none the wiser when it comes to what they believe. I also believe that, with the emergence of a trend towards going independent, ideas can permeate the pulpit and sound original, but hail from older theologies. Is this a bad thing? Not always. I’m all for modernising the word and making it more understandable and accessible. But here’s the thing: older theologies often have a little more conversation and criticism around them, meaning it is easier to see what is solid and what isn’t.

Before I delve into the basics of one of the big thinkers of the Protestant Reformation (circa the 1500’s), I want to say this: I’m a layperson. I don’t have a theology degree. I don’t claim to know it all. I’m just a regular Jo, working her way through life and trying to do her best with faith and followership. There are whole books arguing for and against this next topic! I’m just giving you my super quick cooks tour of it.

Without further ado, meet John Calvin. The TULIP guy.

The 1500’s were a turbulent time for Christianity. The Roman Catholic Church, which had enjoyed a position of privilege in society, was undergoing the throes of what would later become known as the Protestant Reformation – a significant split from the institution. John Calvin was a French theologian born into a catholic family but later went protestant after studying philosophy, humanism and law. He stepped up to the plate in the mid 1500’s and began to help popularise a few things ideas that have hung on until today, namely; belief in the sovereignty of God in all things, and the doctrine of predestination.

Why did I call him the TULIP Guy? Because he had five points and the best acronym people have come up with for that is a flower. (Hey, I like flowers!) Christianity.com briefly explains the five main points of Calvinism as this:

1. Total Depravity – asserts that as a consequence of the fall of man into sin, every person is enslaved to sin. People are not by nature inclined to love God, but rather to serve their own interests and to reject the rule of God.

2. Unconditional Election – asserts that God has chosen from eternity those whom he will bring to himself not based on foreseen virtue, merit, or faith in those people; rather, his choice is unconditionally grounded in his mercy alone. God has chosen from eternity to extend mercy to those he has chosen and to withhold mercy from those not chosen.

3. Limited Atonement – asserts that Jesus’s substitutionary atonement was definite and certain in its purpose and in what it accomplished. This implies that only the sins of the elect were atoned for by Jesus’s death.

4. Irresistible Grace – asserts that the saving grace of God is effectually applied to those whom he has determined to save (that is, the elect) and overcomes their resistance to obeying the call of the gospel, bringing them to a saving faith. This means that when God sovereignly purposes to save someone, that individual certainly will be saved.

5. Perseverance of the Saints – asserts that since God is sovereign and his will cannot be frustrated by humans or anything else, those whom God has called into communion with himself will continue in faith until the end.

Okay! Big ideas here. Big ideas that have permeated church until today. I always used to just think “Yep, okay cool” when it came to Calvinism, but the more I grow in my faith and deconstruction, the more I can see some fundamental flaws in the logic. Most of them pertain to the middle three points. Let’s start with unconditional election: the idea that we are either doomed to hell or destined for heaven from the dawn of time is something I find deeply troubling. We have scriptures such as John 3:16 (For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son that *whosoever* believes in Him shall not perish but have everlasting life) or Acts 2:21 and Romans 10:13 that guarantee that anyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved.

Then there is Romans 5:18 that says “as through one transgression, there resulted condemnation to all men, even so through one act of righteousness, there resulted justification of life to all.”  1 Timothy 2:24 talks about Gods desire for all to be saved, and Titus 2:11 speaks about God bringing salvation to all. 2 Peter 3:9 says that God’s desire is that none should perish. These scriptures seem to be at odds not only with unconditional election, but the idea of limited atonement too.

The idea that there is an in crowd  destined for heaven and an out crowd destined for hell, and we have no choice as to which crowd we are in, is deeply flawed. Yes, I know there is that verse that says “many are called but few are chosen.” This is an unsettling parable that shows that even though the invitation to salvation goes out to all, only some show up. These are the chosen. The elect. And there is Ephesians 1:4 that refers to the elect that God has chosen before the foundation of the world. So I can see where Calvin was getting his ideas from. However, the greater story arc that stretches through the Bible shows the nature of God to be one where He wants to redeem all. Why would he then only redeem some and eternally doom the rest from before their time on earth begins?

All of this hails back to the idea of predestination and God’s sovereignty: ie. that we cannot change what God has already decided so we are sealed in our fate. Now, both of these can be argued biblically both ways. We could have two skilled debaters on the platform using only biblical knowledge as their argument and it would make sense.

But for me, there is a chink in the chain mail. Why send your only begotten son to die for only some? Why create a soul that you love, that you care for, only to decide from the outset that they are destined to burn. We are introduced to God as being “love” and as being a loving father. As a parent, this speaks to me. I have two beautiful kids. You want me to choose one to live forever in a glorious afterlife and the other to burn for eternity?

Nope. I’m choosing both of my kids for the good stuff. No one burns. So that’s me, with two kids. Two kids I love so much I’d walk through fire for them. I’m not writing either one of them out of the will. I love them, thus I will do everything I can for them.

In pulpits everywhere, we are taught about God’s unconditional and sacrificial love for us. It’s an argument seated solidly in scripture. How then are we supposed to argue that only some of us actually have tickets to take advantage of it, especially given all the scriptures I quoted above.

Now I get it; if God is omnipotent, omniscient, omnipresent and all the omni’s, then He already sees and knows our choices. He already sees and knows who will take Him up on the offer of salvation. But does that mean that it is not freely offered to all? I think not. A hard core calvinist, when asking themselves a few questions would have to come to the conclusion that God knew and even desired for sin to enter the world from the beginning, that there is no point praying to bring unbelievers to faith because its either going to happen or not anyway, that Jesus didn’t die for everybody, and if we take the concept of predestination to the extreme, that God ordained things like the holocaust, murders, tragedies or sexual crimes.

Now to the idea of irresistible grace – that if we are the elect, nothing we can do can separate us from God’s grace and atonement. It’s a lovely idea. So lovely. I believe in the all sufficiency of God’s grace. However, the idea that the elect get this conscience clearing superpass to heaven no matter what they do, while those who are not in the elect get the short straw and go to hell no matter what they do is troubling.

It paints God as a masochist. A bit of an arsehole dad – who made a whole bunch of kids and decided a large portion of them weren’t good enough to eat at the family table, and who killed one of them to redeem only some of them.

Now to the idea of total depravity. Okay – I have no problem with the idea of sin. Sin, as falling short of a lofty, Godlike standard is just the human condition. We are all flawed in some way. We are all great in some way. We are all doing the best we can. But calling it total depravity is a whole new level.

To say “For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God” is a recognition of our human flaws. It is a recognition that we are not God and we need God. I like that. I’m fine with that.

Now look to your local maternity ward. Inside the nursery, swaddled in whites, are tiny babies. They are so new to the world that they don’t have a functioning prefrontal cortex. They don’t have awareness of what is right and wrong. They have awareness of hunger, tiredness and discomfort. This is not total depravity. This is innocence.

I have two preschoolers. Even in all the tantrums and tears and the selfishness of always wanting the bigger slice or the cooler toy, I can’t call it total depravity. Inside their brains is a firestorm of growth. They are learning who they are apart from me. They are learning how to assert themselves, and the difference between justified frustration and an unjustified tantrum. Even now, I can’t call their poor decision making total depravity. Because as frustrating as it is, it is innocent.

If you argue that total depravity sets in at the point where a person has a fully functioning prefrontal cortex and can make conscious decisions, then fine. But answer me this: the emergence of the atheist movement over time seems to have shown that people can be altruistic and seek to create a better world even if they aren’t Christians. It seems to show that ethics and unconditional love aren’t the domain of the redeemed alone. I look to those who campaign for human rights and I see God in them regardless of whether or not they believe.

At what point then, do we become totally depraved? You can look at the Ted Bundy’s of the world and think “Yep, depraved.” You can look at the Hitlers of the world and think “Heck. Absolutely. Depraved.” But a four-year old who just wants to faceplate directly into the top of the watermelon instead of waiting for mummy to slice it? He’s just learning patience and doing badly at it.

For all have sinned, fine. For all are flawed, absolutely. Depraved? I can’t come at that. We are all just doing our best. It’s just a shame our best isn’t Godlike, or the world would be a more peaceful place.

Look – I was going to try and argue for Calvinism. But it turns out I can’t. Someone else can! Heck, if you feel like it, pop me a note and you can guest blog on it! Be my guest!

The Bible is a complex document. It is rich in historical and cultural context that we often miss. The Protestant Reformation was an important time in history where mankind started to re-take the reigns of faith that had been handed off to the clergy. It gave us an opportunity to participate in faith to a whole new degree. It was an important development.

But there is a line somewhere in the Bible that says God builds line upon line, and precept upon precept. We, as Christians, progressives even, in the year 2020, need to take our faith and understanding further. And that means understanding what it is built on now.

Until next time, 
Kit K, predestined since the beginning of time to write this blog article and publish it without proofreading it on February 11th 2020. 

Peace

Good Morning 2020

It’s a brand new year. I’ve sat at my desk wanting to write so many times. But the truth is nothing felt right. I live in a local government area that borders East Gippsland.  The last few weeks have been odd. Sad. Heavy. We are not a tiny town, but we are small enough to recognise when people aren’t local, when they’ve evacuated from  or lost their homes in a Shire beseiged not only by firestorms but bad politics. You can kind of guess by their demeanor that they are nervous, or staying strong for their kids. You see car parks full of cars packed to the hilt. But this isn’t what the world is watching: they are watching political buffoonary as our PM blunders his way through his first major, record breaking national disaster. They watch as Australia, East Gippsland and Coastal NSW, become global symbols of global climate change.

I’m not sure how to blog about what I want to yet. I want to say things about mixed orientation marriage, sexual ethic in the post-purity culture church, dominionism as it makes an example of both the Liberal Party and of Christian minor parties in Australia, and of the way people take to social media without so much as a fact check to defend the idea that this *isn’t* a global warming issue. As if looking after your planet is somehow diametrically opposed to conversative Christianity in Australia. Its an odd juxtaposition. There is so much to talk about – and I will.

But for the moment, I have to sit with this feeling of heaviness as my country burns. I have to clear my mind of these things that beg for my attention and acknowledgement before I plunge on into the intellectual arguments surrounding the issues I mentioned above.

In the mean time, I’m organising myself. I’ve hired help to get me through the crazy amount of work piling up on my desk. I’ll be *finally* releasing those eBooks I talked about doing last year, and launching the podcast that I just can’t wait to start. It finally has almost a sorta-kinda name.  The first ten episodes are planned. It’s nearly there.

But I can’t write or talk yet before I say this:

RIP to the fire-fighters and forest manager who perished in this disaster so far

RIP to those who got caught in a firestorm and didn’t make it out.

COURAGE to those who have lost everything. My heart and my prayers are with you, and I’m doing what I can to aid those who are supporting you.

COURAGE to those of us who are watching this in disbelief, feeling the sadness, feeling angry over the politics that surround human lives and a national tragedy.
May we emerge from this smarter, more informed, more ready to take on those who don’t want to stand up, take responsibility and fix what needs to be fixed. Australia has always had fires, yes. But not this many, not this early and not this volatile.

I’ll blog more tomorrow. I just had to say this first.

Wishing you peace, and love, and rain
Kit K.

What Happens When God Doesn’t Answer Our Prayers

Late last night, a friend send me a text message. “Have you seen, #wakeupolive on instagram?” it read. I jumped on over and saw every mothers nightmare. A beautiful little girl name Olive, 2 years old, full of life, had suddenly stopped breathing and died. She was taken to hospital and declared dead on arrival. She was not on life support. Olive was gone. My heart sunk to my shoes. I wanted to wake my sweet 2 year old girl and cuddle her forever. Because no parent should lose a child. But little Olive’s case was different. Her mother is a worship leader at Bethel and the last five days have been filled with worship sessions, worldwide prayer and fervent beseechings for God to raise this little girl to life.Now read me right, I’d be thrilled if the best were to happen. I’d pull a Tom Cruise and jump  up and down on the couch with my kids. 

But we are heading into day six now and so this story will have a lot of people asking “What if she doesn’t get raised from the dead?” Well that, my friend, is a very good question.

I want to start by saying I believe in miracles, in that I have been the very reluctant recipient of two of them. (I.e. It wasn’t mind over matter because I was sure that I was not going to be healed from these conditions. I’d even been in big arguments about it. There were witnesses to that.) Long story…

But miracle healings do happen. In the science world, they are called spontaneous remissions. There are thousands of documented instances of sudden and inexplicable recoveries in both Christian and secular settings. When you look at people like Dr Joe Dispenza, Dr Gregg Braden and even illusionist Derren Brown,  you actually do get some pretty fascinating explanations for how these healings might take place. I’mma blog more on that another day because it’s complicated. But for the sake of today I want to say this:

I believe that God, or whatever you choose to call the force that animates the universe, can use various mechanisms to heal us. Science and metaphysical philosophers of various streams may be able to explain some aspects of it. Great. I’m not offended by that. I believe that God can do whatever He wants to do. I also believe know it can be profoundly disappointing when it doesn’t pan out the way we’d have liked.

Real talk: God has been profoundly disappointing to me at times. I remember sobbing in the shower after my fourth miscarriage and telling God some things I really hated and was furious about. Then I hated myself for hating God. And then I realised God has big shoulders. He can handle my anger and my questions.

When these questions become deep questioning, that can be called deconstruction. It’s the moment we start to grapple with whether or not our faith and worldview holds up to scrutiny. The issue with deconstruction is not whether God can handle it. Its whether we can. When I look at the Bethel movement, I can see some pretty big red flags. One is the doctrine that complete healing is guaranteed as part of atonement at the point of salvation.

Bill Johnson believes and teaches that [1]:

God never causes sickness.
God always chooses to heal.
Paul’s thorn in the flesh was definitely not a physical ailment.
If you do not believe in healing on demand, you are preaching another gospel

Johnson has said “I refuse to create a theology that allows for sickness.”

Well! Bill isn’t God. He doesn’t get to decide that, but…

The first point I don’t have an issue with per se. Although, as we age, the body is subject to entropy and atrophy. That, to me, seems to be just part of life after Eden.

The second is rubbish. God doesn’t always choose to heal. Jacob walked with a limp. God didn’t choose to heal him. The argument that Paul’s thorn in the flesh was “definitely not a physical ailment” is laughable. There is no way we can tell. I know plenty of people of great faith, who walked closely with God, who were constantly bringing their sin and failures before him who did not receive their miracles. I wouldn’t dare question their salvation. I wouldn’t dare question anyone listed in Hebrews 11 who didn’t receive their healing or the thing they were praying for.

The moment we create a theology that portrays God as a genie in a bottle who grants our healing wishes, we deny the sovereignty of God. If we believe that God is God, we have to believe He is sovereign over the timing of healing (i.e. here or eternity). We have to believe the choice is ultimately His. If not, we are demoting Him to genie, and promoting ourselves to deity.

And hey – the scripture tells us that if we share in his sufferings, we share in his glory. Why would that be dropped into scripture if salvation meant life would be a painless walk in the park?

The idea that healing is guaranteed on demand is a bad doctrine that has the potential to knock someone right out of the church door if tragedy strikes. It’s bad theology. And bad theology is dangerous.

I used to come at faith from a position of, I don’t know, superiority maybe? I had some bad theology of my own. Now, having lost the blessed naivety of my youth, I know that Christianity isn’t a magic wand, a silver spoon or a genie in a bottle. It is a comfort and a guide. It is a set of ethics and morals. It is a way of seeing the world. It’s a reverence and a reference point, and so much more.

I believe it should constantly be something I wrestle with and think about in terms of how best to live it out. But it doesn’t change the amount of struggles I will face in my life (spoiler: there have been a few!). 

I doesn’t change the amount of struggles anyone faces. The Bible never said it would. It said though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will *fear* no evil for you are with me. It said thy rod and staff comfort me. It said all things would work together for good for those who love God and are called according to his purpose. But that never meant we would be immune to pain.

Hey. I’ve got unanswered prayers. I have significant health challenges. I don’t for one minute blame God, and I don’t for one minute blame myself. Those challenges mean I can sit with people who have invisible illnesses, support them and understand them. I grieve my angel babies. But I’ve been able to hold the hands of people walking the road of infertility. Sharing those deeply personal struggles is an honour I don’t take lightly. I might not be healed, but I am bloody resilient. I thank God for that gift.

(I’m not suggesting that poor Olive’s mum looks for any such silver lining right now. I am hurting for that woman! Let’s make that clear.)

The case of young Olive is a tragedy. I hope it doesn’t become a dual tragedy that causes her mother to lose faith, or causes other people to ask God why He didn’t be a good genie and bring her back when we demanded it. If it did, I wouldn’t blame the parents. I wouldn’t blame the people who are praying for these precious souls because of the compassion and empathy and faith they have right now. Thank God for them!

I’d blame the people who trot out bad theology and raise expectations above the Biblical bar.

God isn’t our genie. He is our father in heaven. He is the author and finisher of our faith. He is sovereign. He is not able to be fully understood and I cringe at even using male pronouns for him right now. God is too big for our petty labels. God is too big to push around.

And hey side note: I read this fabulous quote on instagram (I’m looking at you, Jess Hugenberg): Types of witchcraft: 1) incantation: magic spells, a series of words or phrases believed to be uttered to achieve a desired result. 2) Divination: seeking knowledge by supernatural means, such as necromancy, which is summoning spirits or raising the dead.

Proclaiming “resurrection power” with poor understanding is heresy. Resurrection power is NOT the power to raise anyone from the dead. Resurrection power is the power that fuelled and accompanied Jesus’ resurrection which defeated sin and death. That doesn’t mean we will never die but that our souls will have eternal life in Jesus.

Look, I don’t know about you, but I like to stand well clear of the line that tells God what to do. The rationale above is pretty good reasoning as to why. My witch friend (yes! She’s fab) has shown me there is far more to witchcraft that what I wrote above. Her practice is quite different. But I’ve put that quote up there for thought provocation. We need to be careful which lines we cross. In my mind here, Bethel is crossing some dangerous lines.

If God didn’t answer your prayer, 
If he didn’t heal your child, or your sibling, your friend or partner, if He didn’t grant your wish on demand, that doesn’t mean God doesn’t exist. Look for him in comfort you receive. In the medical treatment you can access. In the faces of the friends who support you, and hopefully even in the blogs that try and help you to grapple with the questions that fall out of that disappointment.

But when we subscribe to the genie in a bottle doctrine of complete and guaranteed healing as part of atonement, then we not only question God but our very salvation. There is no biblical case for us to think we get to demand God heal us and have him scramble to snap his cosmic fingers.

Now, for my atheist readers, Hi! Good to have you along. I’m sure there are a million thoughts you have here, including the power of the mind and the placebo effect in healings. I’ll get to that another day! But for everyone else who believes there is something out there, for those of us who believe that something out there is called God, hang tight.

Unattained healing, ungranted wishes, unrequited desires – these are not evidence of an absent God. I like what a friend of mine says “Lack of evidence is not evidence of lack.” She was saying it about the world of research, indicating that there is much yet to be discovered in terms of the power of the body, the mind and the forces that animate and impact upon it.

I think it applies to God, too. I look at world history, at world religions, at the different denominations that exist around the world and I know that we are all striving to find meaning on this planet and to try to understand and explain the uncontainable Divine.

If God hasn’t answered your prayer. I’m sorry. I hope in time, He does. But if tragedy has struck, I hope that you can find comfort in the knowledge of a loving God who will carry you through the aftermath. When we subject ourselves to bad theology that treats God like a genie and denigrates His sovereignty, we can’t find comfort in God when we go through hard times. We can only be angry that our genie didn’t perform, or we can think that somehow we weren’t good enough.

Don’t do that. Life is hard enough. My heart is with the Bethel Church and the Heiligenthal family. I’m praying for them right now in this horrendous time of grief. I’m also grieved that this has played out in such a public and desperate fashion. Gosh. Imagine.

That’s all I got. I’m going to go hug my daughter real tight.

Over and out