Summary

The author reflects on the lingering emotional impact of a strict Evangelical Christian upbringing, despite no longer believing in the associated religious rules and an evolving personal faith.

Abstract

The article delves into the author's struggle with the residual effects of a strict religious upbringing within the Evangelical Christian community. Despite the author's current atheism or different faith and Stig's atheism, they both find themselves grappling with the ingrained rules and beliefs of their childhood. The author discusses the arbitrary nature of these rules, such as the banning of 7UP, Disney movies, and certain TV shows, and how they still evoke a sense of guilt and taboo. The piece highlights the shared experience of processing these childhood teachings with a friend, Stig, who also navigates the complexities of his religious past. The author emphasizes the desire for emotional healing and the rejection of quick fixes, instead valuing empathy and understanding in dealing with the haunting effects of their upbringing.

Opinions

The author expresses frustration and anger towards the arbitrary and strict rules imposed during their childhood, which were meant to guide their behavior in line with Evangelical Christian beliefs.
There is a sense of betrayal or disillusionment with the church, as the author describes feeling "icky" rather than renewed by church practices and has since distanced themselves from church attendance.
The author acknowledges the paradox of still feeling bound by the rules they no longer believe in, illustrating the deep emotional imprint of their upbringing.
The article conveys a strong bond formed with others, like Stig, who share similar experiences of growing up in a restrictive religious environment and now question or reject those beliefs.
The author rejects simplistic solutions to their spiritual and emotional conflicts, emphasizing the need for empathy and understanding rather than unsolicited advice or quick fixes.
Despite the criticism of their upbringing, the author recognizes the positive aspects of religion, such as a sense of community and the teaching of moral values, and maintains an appreciation for certain elements of spirituality.

I’m Still Angry at the God I Don’t Believe In

Who banned 7UP and Disney movies

I’m tired of processing the wounds of a strict religious upbringing — and grateful for the friends that do the processing with me. These are friends like Stig.

“I wasn’t allowed to drink 7UP as a kid,” Stig said. “Fido Dido was on the label, and my parents said he was evil.”

I had to admit even I’d never come across that rule. And there were some wacky rules in my childhood.

It creates a tight bond sharing anger towards a God you don’t believe in.

At the time of the 7UP conversation, Stig and I had just met. We were at an emerging church event for those decompressing from the regular church. We bonded over the weird rules imposed on us as children who were brought up in Evangelical Christian households.

Nearly a decade on, we’re still friends. It’s a tight bond to be angry together at a God you no longer believe in.

These days, Stig is an atheist who still goes to church. He’s got lots of friends there. His wife is a Christian. His kids have friends at church.

I’ve still got a faith, although quite a different one from what I was brought up with. But for the past few years, I can’t stomach church. There comes the point where being washed in the blood leaves you feeling ick rather than renewed.

Yet even if Stig and I no longer profess belief in this weird God who seemed to create arbitrary rules to confuse children and make them feel guilty for everything, we’re both haunted by our upbringings. No matter how much I try to let go of them or leave them behind, the rules I learned as a child still stalk my emotions.

Stig and I are both haunted by our upbringings.

The other night, Stig and I went walking along the seafront. We were chatting, enjoying a moment’s freedom after months of lockdown. I can’t remember why, but he mentioned the British TV show The Crystal Maze. I instantly felt tense and judgemental. I wasn’t allowed to watch that show as a kid. I don’t know the reason it was forbidden. But even now, it seems wrong that people would watch it or be interested in it. It feels taboo.

It’s just so bizarre how that judgemental part of me still resides in my instincts. It’s automatic, like fight-or-flight. I can try to argue it away, tell myself how silly such rules are. But the rules still linger in my emotional memory.

I’ve got all this spiritual detritus that I wish was washed away. I want to let it go, washed out to sea. I want it gone. Instead, it ends up washed up on the shore of my consciousness.

Here are some of the weirder beliefs and rules that I was taught as a child.

The European Union was a Satanic group of countries that will cause the coming of “The Beast,” signaling the End Times when Christ returns. A variation on this belief was that the United Nations is the Satanic body. It took me several years to process this belief and realize that countries working together are usually a good force.
Most movies were banned, including any Disney movies involving witches. Movies, for the most part, were evil and of the devil. The Disney movie Robin Hood was allowed, in a weird twist of logic. The movie opens with a crystal ball scene, which represented evil. But it was okay to watch as long as we understood that part was “silly.”
No shopping on Sundays.
God planted dinosaur fossils to fool us into believing the world is really, really old. It’s actually 6,000 years old.
No going to the pub, ever, for food or drink. Or anything.
People who drink alcohol are committing one of the worst sins. Worse than lust, envy, anger. Probably the only thing worse than getting drunk was fornication.
No tattoos.
The Harry Potter books were of the devil because they involve magic.
No watching dance shows on TV.

And on it went… including many of the ‘standard’ but still bizarre Christian rules like no sex before marriage.

The weird rules seeped through and went unchallenged, even though not everyone believed them.

Some of these rules came from my parents. Some came from my friends’ parents at church. And some were part of broader church culture.

The most challenging part for me to process is that we went to a relatively open-minded church. It wasn’t some fundamentalist sect. It was a mainline denomination with an outward-looking focus and many beautiful aspects to it. I learned to care about others, especially those in poverty. I felt accepted and known. I was taught that life has meaning and purpose and that I should strive to be the best version of myself.

Yet somehow, the weird rules seeped through, and I wasn’t given space to challenge them. They weren’t believed by everyone. But they were there and were accepted as part of church culture.

I don’t want your quick fix. I’m not a car, you’re not a mechanic.

Not all the rules bother me. I can now go to the pub without feeling any guilt or even guilty pleasure. I enjoy it for what it is. Likewise, I can watch any Disney movie (except Sleeping Beauty, that one leaves me feeling full of shame). And I laugh at the idea that the world is 6,000 years old. But some of the beliefs still haven’t shifted, not entirely.

You might tell me, “stop believing that nonsense.” I want to be clear: intellectually, I don’t believe any weird rules, and I want them all gone. They’re trapped in my emotions.

When I share stories on my mental health, I often receive patronizing comments about how to make things better. Or people who tell me why I’m wrong to have my feelings. I want to shout back: “Thanks, in two seconds, you just solved all my life problems” #sarcasm.

I’ll take empathy. I’ll take understanding. But I don’t want fixes. I’m not a car. You’re not a mechanic.

I’ve spent all my adult life processing, learning, exploring, growing, and thinking. I’ve devoted years of my life — and spent five-figure sums — studying theology and religion and figuring this stuff out. Still, it haunts me.

And still, I find there’s much that’s beautiful about religion and spirituality.

There is no quick fix nor simple answers. This is a journey. And I’m grateful for those, like Stig, who carry similar wounds and walk the path with me.