One thing I’ve struggled to define in an open forum is how my faith has grown since leaving a cultish church. I have found many people expect either complete abandonment of Christianity or a gradual transformation into a more loosely defined person of faith. For me though, walking through this season of life has looked a lot less like “deconstruction;” a dismantling of everything I believed, and more like “disentangling;” — a word I have heard others use that fits my experience exactly. A slow untangling of the truth from the lies. I am still a follower of Christ. I have (I hope, by God’s grace) not grown more fleshly since leaving but perhaps less so, as I’ve begun to learn the beauty of walking in submission to the Holy Spirit; being led of God instead of men.
Sometimes it’s easier to pinpoint what I don’t want rather than explain what it is I do want, so I’ll start with this. I am not here to cast stones at a particular body of believers, or even a particular movement within Christianity. I am not here to air my dirty laundry and let the whole world know exactly how I’ve been wronged in my life. But I am here to share that there is so much beauty and liberty found in being a follower of Christ, so much joy and peace that eluded me for so long but now I’ve found it. I’ve found Him. And if by opening my heart and probing at some of the scars left there I can help even one person find the liberty Paul talks about in Galatians (which doesn’t necessarily have to come with a change of where you worship), then everything I’ve been through will have been worth it.
As a child and young adult faithfully attending and serving within a cultish church I was absolutely haunted by the words of Jesus in Matthew 11. There was no rest in my religion. I found very little peace or joy or comfort in being a follower of Christ, dedicated though I was to that end. My every thought was rooted in how I could do more, be more, earn more of his love and favor, and yet I knew it could never be enough. How do you satisfy an endless demand for perfection? So I felt both haunted and mocked by the idea that faith in Him could bring comfort. Rest. Peace. An easy yoke. How could that be when that very same yoke was choking me? But someone once told me that if that yoke feels heavy it’s probably because I picked something up that Jesus never asked me to carry. And they were right. I’m here to tell you about it.
Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. [29] Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. [30] For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.
