A Candle in the Window

It was revealed to [the Old Testament prophets] that they were not serving themselves, but you, in these things which now have been announced to you through those who preached the gospel to you by the Holy Spirit sent from heaven– things into which angels long to look.

1 Peter 1:12

The great task of the American people is to continuously and faithfully explore and apply the first sentence in our Declaration of Independence, We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. Written by wealthy, white American men, many who themselves were slave-owners, the irony and challenges of such a claim have never been lost or forgotten. Its actual application in American life remains a persistent challenge. But the sentence remains our creed, and it remains unfulfilled, in that while we think of everyone being equal, we have failed miserably to treat everyone as equal.

In the same way, the church of Jesus Christ has always striven and struggled to embrace its own definition and application of the words, For God so loved the world. . . We have striven to divide that “world” between those whom we say God “knew,” and therefore loved, and those who God did not know/elect, and therefore did not love, or at least did not love in the same way as those He had chosen. Many Americans have tried the use of laws, rules, red-lining, segregated school and water fountains (to name a few of the devices) to maintain some distinctions and barriers between those who we see as “us,” and those who we wish to keep “not us.” So too, God’s people have struggled to keep their front doors open to the “others,” the not-one-of-us people out there who wish to come in. The writings of the Old Testament prophets—accepted by Jew and Christian alike as inspired, authoritative, and perfectly reflective of the will and nature of God the Father—are used by God to keep that door open, and they were used by Him to keep the door open to the countless streams of those wildly diverse, geographically scattered people, the Gentiles, who desired to come into the saving warmth and peace of God’s family—the Church. In those writings, by those Jewish men so long ago, God has left a candle in the window for all to see and escape the darkness. But God’s method was of a more memorable and poignant nature. It was the brutal, violent, public placarding of His own Son, Jesus, on a roughhewn, blood soaked Roman cross of execution, lifted on a hill, for all the world to see. And all the world sees it today, each time the gospel is read and told, and each time a Christian dares to love the world in the same way her Master Jesus loved it, by giving her life for it.


Naming it: Of Cults and Narcissists, Part Two

Another word that demands attention is the word narcissist. I just did a Google search on the word, which resulted in 58,900,000 results. That’s fifty-eight million. That’s a lot of narcissist.

Narcissism is a malignant personality type/disorder, long recognized by mental health professionals (it is found in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders), that is generally understood as the subject manifesting a chronic, controlling pattern of grandiosity, expressed in demands for admiration, respect, etc., and in a general lack of empathy. Outside of the formal, therapeutic world, there are many understandings and definitions of narcissism (I imagine that’s where most of the 58 million web hits regarding narcissism come from . . .). I have heard of pastors described by their (former) congregants as narcissists who I suspect were merely rude, arrogant, self-centered, and probably in the wrong line of work. But I have also heard, and hear with increasing frequency, of more and more pastors who genuinely present in ways that I believe any mental health professional would certainly diagnose as a classic narcissist. So there is the gamut—Narcissistic Personality Disorder in its official presentation, as diagnosed by mental health and medical professionals, and opinion of narcissistic pastors (and other leaders, certainly) who have savaged the very people they were supposed to care about, and lead as gentle shepherds would lead a flock of beloved sheep. But they didn’t.

Now, here’s the point of what I am writing: I have noted that when I drop the word narcissist, or, narcissistic to describe a pastor or leader that has hurt the person I am speaking to, my naming of their abuser often falls flat. They don’t know if their pastor was a narcissist—and, hearing me describe the narcissistic pastor of my old church–they often don’t view their abusive pastor as being anywhere near as corrupt and depraved as my old pastor (who now sits in prison for his crimes committed against the children of his church).

When people leave abusive churches, they are often in various stages of the development of clarity and conviction in their own assessment of the abuse they suffered. In the same way they are not ready to sign-off on calling their old church (as mean and nasty as it was) a cult they are also not prepared to call their pastor a narcissist, especially when the word if thrown out by non-medically trained people (like myself). After all, there is a well-known policy (though much debated) that it is unethical and unprofessional for psychiatrists to give opinions and make diagnoses regarding public figures whom they have not personally interviewed and examined. (It’s called the Goldwater Rule, and it’s a very interesting read, if you’re interested in looking it up!) Not all psychiatrists appreciate the Goldwater Law, because (they feel) you really can simply read and hear what a person has to say and have a clear idea of what makes her tick. I am the same way, and I suppose that idea is what makes it very tempting for me to tell survivors of abusive churches that their former pastors are narcissists.

I often feel I lose traction when I throw the word narcissism (along with cult) around—and find myself trying to make my case, defending my opinion, instead of simply hearing the survivor’s story, again and again, and walking with the survivor into a healthier future. I lose traction because I am trying to massage and squeeze their story into my own ideas about spiritual abuse, cults, and narcissists.

What does this mean for me, a survivor of spiritual abuse who took ten long years before truly believing he was in a cult, and his pastor a narcissist? I believe it means I should continue to engage and care for my fellow spiritual abuse survivors, but patiently give them the same freedom that I was given to sort through their experiences, and to choose how they themselves will describe what happened to them. There can be a lot of time between “This church is wrong, unhealthy, and the pastor is a bully—we’re leaving, now!” and “I was in a cult and my pastor was a narcissist.” Cult and narcissist will probably slip out of my mouth, often.

For all survivors of narcissistic abuse, know this: It’s your story, in your words, and we’re not in any big hurry to get to the final chapter.

Naming it: Of Cults and Narcissists, Part One

After leaving an unhealthy church in 1996, which I later understood to be abusive, and then later understood to be a Christian cult, I came to a point where I wanted to throw my hat in the ring and start helping others who were in unhealthy/abusive/cultic churches and Christian groups. I started speaking more of spiritual abuse in my preaching, writing a few blog posts about it, and earned a doctorate writing about spiritual abuse in Christian churches. I also joined the International Cultic Studies Association for access to their extensive research library, cult recovery experts, and support of former members of such groups. Along the way, I noticed a couple of very important conversations that are occurring among church leaders, counselors, academics and survivors regarding the use of the words cult to describe an abusive group (like my old church), and the use of the word narcissist to describe abusive pastors.

The cult conversation is the most active. Formerly, a cult was simply a destructive, aberrant religious group that abused and damaged its members through its totalist control of their lives. Christian churches that held to an historical understand of the Christian faith (e.g., deity of Christ, presence of miracles, inspiration of Scripture, resurrection of Christ, substitutionary atonement, etc.) really felt that it was quite impossible to ever be rightly called a cult. They reasoned that since their doctrines were orthodox, historic, and held by the most renown, legitimate churches, denominations, and seminaries, and most importantly, were “biblical,” cult was simply a description that could never be applied to them. However, recent studies, writings, and dialogue within cult-recovery groups, ministries, and writers has challenge that thinking, even within Christianity.

The word cult itself derives from the Latin word, cultus, which describes the care and service of deities, temples, and shrines. It was simply a word related to the traditions, habits, and disciplines of any of the many religions found in the Roman Empire. So, it didn’t describe harmful, abusive behavior, but simply the particular behaviors and rituals of religious systems. However, with the growth of the Christian church, and its eventual totalist control over the Roman empire itself, these other religions, and their cultic traditions, beliefs, behaviors, etc., were declared illegal, and were stigmatized and (eventually) largely abandoned. The Christian church, experienced in being declared an illegitimate, illegal religion in its early years, proceeded to inflict the same experience on its former rivals. I’m certain there is much more to the story than how I have just described it—but we can at least say, it wasn’t our finest hour when Christians decided to use the power of the government (which they now controlled) to harm non-Christian religions!

In time, the word cult came to describe any sect, group, church, movement, etc., that did not hold to the orthodox, historic beliefs of the Christian faith, especially its beliefs about the nature, identity and significance of Jesus Christ, or, its Christology. And here’s the catch—under that understanding of the word, any church with the correct belief system, especially the correct beliefs regarding Jesus Christ—simply could not be called a cult! It could act terribly, ruining the lives of its members through its manipulation, theft, abuse, control and punishments. It could separate families, ruin marriages, steal money, abuse children, refuse to allow members to seek proper medical care, withdraw from neighbors, cover over crimes, and act as if it were a law unto itself. No matter, if the church had a correct Christology, it simply could not be a cult. That’s where all that I’ve written begins to intersect with my personal experience. I joined a church with all the “right” doctrines, and most of the right practices of a normal, healthy Christian church. But in time, although the church stood solidly on its doctrines, its behaviors, especially in its pastors, violated every behavioral expectation and instruction of Christianity. Under the domineering leadership of its pastors, the church started hurting its members, deceiving them, ruining them, and stealing their money, time, and in some cases, their bodies, through sexual abuse.

And never, at any time, would we have agreed that we were a cult. All because of our dearly held, rarely applied doctrines. I imagine our true, applied Christology made Jesus weep.

Today, I think we are wise to wean ourselves off the word, or at least the ways we have used it. I have often heard it used in a malicious, critical way, to cast aspersion on another person, or that person’s church, so that the listener won’t be fair-minded and generous, but will be well-warned of the moral-spiritual depravity of the church in question. That’s not right. That’s how abusive churches talk about other people and groups and religions and churches.

If you are going to use the word (and I often do—old habits, you know. . . ) it is best to use it to describe a harmful, controlling religious group (be it Christian or not) whose leaders employ any number of the well-known devices and methods of coercion and manipulation to control people, and to gain control of their wealth, energy, loyalty, families, marriages, and even their bodies. If you simply follow the money, sex, and power footprints in any such group, you’ll invariably find the leader of the group. (Perhaps leaders, plural—but in my experience, most of the time it is a leader, singular. Bad guys rarely share power, at least not equally.)

My point is writing this piece is this: Christians coming out of abusive churches—ones that were just about as controlling, horrible, and damaging as can be, they have a hard time describing these abusive churches as cults. Their beliefs were orthodox, they believed what all healthy churches believe, at least on paper. To throw the cult designation onto them is like forcing them to wear an old, heavy, wet coat in the summer. It doesn’t fit, isn’t comfortable, and isn’t the right time to wear it, anyway. Asking survivors to call their abusive churches cults is often premature, unnecessary, and can even lead to a sort of bullying-by-expert. It is difficult for survivors to even think of themselves as survivors or victims, let alone former cult-members. For years, I did not research cult-recovery resources, simply because I did not believe I’d left a cult.

So, when I slip, and use the word cult in relation to a church or Christian group, what I mean is an abusive, unhealthy, coercive group (in my line of work, that group is usually a Christian church), that, while it may very well possess orthodox, historic, accepted beliefs regarding the Christian faith, abuses, mistreats, and infiltrates its members’ lives, seeking absolute, total control over every last cent, minute, decision, and idea, and relationship.

The word cult has impeded people from seeking help as quickly as they should, so I’m doing my small part to more carefully qualify my use of the word, or at least to broaden its meaning a bit.

Next. . . Naming it: Narcissism