'It Shattered Me That a 'Christian Man' Would Treat Me This Way'

Editor’s Note: This article previously appeared in a different format as part of The Atlantic’s Notes section, retired in 2021.

That’s how this reader describes her biggest test of faith:

I’m happy to see your series on religious choices. It’s something that I struggled with in college and am still examining, as a 25-year-old woman. I was raised in an evangelical “mega-church,” and at one point, I wanted to be a pastor. Neither of these things still hold true. I still consider myself a Christian, and I believe in God, but I haven’t regularly attended a church in years. And I have a lot of inner conflicts over the state of Christianity and the church as a whole.

A lot of episodes in my life have added up to my current stage of religious ambiguity. But this was the most noteworthy: When I was a freshman in college, I was in an abusive relationship with a fellow student I met through a campus Christian group.

He was mostly emotionally and psychologically abusive—a lot of telling me where to go, isolating me, gaslighting, etc.—with a few instances of physical abuse toward the end of our relationship. He based a lot of his decisions on “signs” from God and would say things like “God is telling me this about you” or “If you believed in God, then you would...” He used religion frequently to correct or belittle me and to justify how he treated me.

It shattered me that a “Christian man” would treat me this way and that he used The Bible to defend so many of his actions. The lack of support I received from that campus Christian group and from my church back home made me take a hard look at what I believed in. I especially had to examine how I was treated as a woman in the church and how I’d felt like a lesser person for a while.

When I got engaged at age 23, I joined a more liberal denomination of Christianity, which is the same church I got married in. But I still couldn’t fully reconcile my faith with my reality. My husband and I eventually stopped attending, but we often think about finding a new place of worship. I still haven’t made it happen.

I think that church and Christianity and religion in general can be incredible and powerful. But when people let their egos and their self-righteousness get in the way, that’s when we see religion crumble.

If you’ve had any similar experiences and want to share, drop us an email. Update from a helpful reader:

I have a post on my blog that is specifically aimed at helping people find a new church that is more satisfying and not abusive. You are more than welcome to share this link with your readers if you like. It could probably help many of them.

Here’s another reader with a history of abuse and a lack of support from her Christian peers:

I grew up as stereotypically evangelical as you can imagine: Midwestern, homeschooled, worked at Chick-fil-a, went on missions trips, believed in creationism, wholeheartedly believed that men were “leaders” and women were “helpers” and keepers of the home, etc.

A series of events led me to where I am today, but the biggest catalyst was likely due to a series of abuse when I was 15. A guy I had grown up with my entire life became infatuated with me and began emotionally and physically abusing me. This continued for a year-and-a-half, until he finally went to college.

The worst part was, my friends and church community didn’t think he was doing anything wrong. In fact, they blamed me for leading him on. They thought I should enter into a courtship with him and were upset that I kept refusing him. This guy hit me in the face—hard enough to leave a mark—right in front of my entire youth group. No one said a word.

It took until my senior year of high school to finally realize that none of this was ok. I became a closeted “liberal Christian,” which basically means I was okay with gay marriage and thought that women didn’t have to be the main caretakers of children. During this time, I made the mistake of telling a few of my friends that I came to believe in evolution. I lost all but one of my friends because of that, and soon after I left my faith entirely.

I’ve been secretly agnostic for a year and three days. I’m 18 now and about to finish my first year at a selective East Coast liberal arts school, which has been the best thing to ever happen to me. But I’ve yet to make my biggest religious decision: when I go home next month, do I tell my family the truth about my lack of faith?

No one back home knows, and I don’t want to keep lying to them. I don’t think I even can anymore. But I know if I do, I’ll either be disowned or pulled out of my college and kept at home. I don’t have good options. But I don’t regret losing my faith at all. The only regret that I have is that I’m too scared to try to help my younger brother, who’s in the same place I was religiously when I was 16.

Religion is supposed to give you peace. That’s what I always was taught, that we should have peace because we have certainty and trust in God. That was never true for me. When I was religious, I lived in constant, internal turmoil. Ever since I embraced agnosticism and welcomed uncertainty, I’ve been more at peace with myself than I’ve ever been.