The first time I heard a pastor say, “If you leave this church, you’re walking away from God,” I was 16. I remember shifting uncomfortably in my seat, the weight of his words pressing down. It wasn’t the first time I had felt something was off but it was the first time I wondered if questioning the church meant questioning my faith itself.
Years later, I’ve lost count of the stories I’ve heard that sound eerily similar. A friend who left after her church protected an abusive leader. A former youth group kid who was told his doubts made him a “bad Christian.” A worship leader who burned out after being told rest was the enemy of obedience.
If any of this sounds familiar, you’re not alone. According to a 2023 Barna study, a significant number of people who leave their churches because of “negative experiences.” The study found that nearly 40% of people who stop attending church regularly point to “personal hurt” as a primary reason. Another study from LifeWay Research found more staggering results: 66% of churchgoers who stopped attending church regularly reported they left due to personal conflict or painful church experiences.
The disillusionment is real. If the church is supposed to be the body of Christ, why does it so often feel like a machine built for power, control and, let’s be honest, keeping the wrong people in charge?
Let’s be clear: walking away from a toxic church is sometimes the healthiest thing you can do. Spiritual bypassing—pretending everything is fine in the name of “grace”—only perpetuates harm. But does that mean faith itself has to go too?
Dr. Laura E. Anderson, a trauma-informed psychotherapist and author of When Religion Hurts You, argues that the emotional fallout from church hurt runs much deeper than most people realize. “Trauma is not what happened to you but your body and nervous system’s response to what happened to you,” she writes. In other words, what may look like “just a bad church experience” can actually leave long-lasting wounds that impact the way people relate to God, community and even themselves.
For those who grew up immersed in high-control religious environments, the pain doesn’t disappear once you walk out the door. It lingers in your nervous system, in your sense of safety, in your ability to trust.
Anderson also acknowledges that healing from this kind of spiritual harm requires more than just distance—it requires grief. “Recovering from high-control religion often includes grieving the ways we were taught about the world, people and how to navigate relationships,” she writes. That grief is valid. It’s necessary. And it’s part of how we begin to disentangle our faith from the people or institutions who misused it.
The good news? Jesus isn’t afraid of your grief or your questions or your righteous anger. In fact, He might be the one who gave you those instincts in the first place. In Matthew 23, Jesus calls out religious leaders for their hypocrisy: “You shut the door of the kingdom of heaven in people’s faces.” He didn’t side with corrupt systems—he flipped tables.
And the Jesus of the Gospels didn’t just rebuke spiritual abusers. He consistently sided with the marginalized. In Luke 4:18, he says, “The Spirit of the Lord is on me because he has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor.” He warned in Matthew 25 that ignoring the hungry, the sick and the imprisoned is the same as ignoring Him.
So it makes sense that many young Christians aren’t just walking away because of personal hurt—they’re walking away because they’re looking for Jesus and not finding Him in the places that bear His name. Pew Research reports that 60% of young ex-evangelicals say the church’s failure to care about marginalized people was a major factor in their decision to leave.
Which raises the question: if the institution isn’t leading us to Jesus, can we still follow Him anyway?
The answer is yes. And people are. They’re forming house churches, starting book clubs, joining justice-oriented communities or rediscovering the Gospels outside the noise of performance and pressure. They’re asking hard questions not because they’ve lost faith but because they still believe it should mean something.
But how do you actually hold on to faith while working through the mess? Here’s a few steps you can take.
Acknowledge the Pain
Healing begins with acknowledging the hurt. Suppressing or denying your feelings can lead to deeper emotional wounds and spiritual confusion. Allow yourself to feel and express your pain through journaling, prayer or talking with a trusted friend or advisor. Recognizing and validating your emotions is crucial for moving forward.
Seek Professional Support
Religious trauma doesn’t just disappear on its own. As Anderson puts it, “Religious trauma is real trauma. It may not leave bruises you can see, but it can impact your nervous system, your relationships, and your ability to feel safe in the world.” Engaging with a therapist who understands religious trauma can provide a safe space to process your experiences and develop tools to move forward.
Separate God from People
It’s essential to distinguish between God’s character and the actions of those who have misrepresented him. Dr. Alison Cook advises, “Separate the hurtful behavior from God’s character.” Understanding that human failings do not reflect God’s nature can help rebuild trust in your faith without returning to harmful systems.
Reclaim Your Spiritual Practices
Reconnecting with spiritual disciplines outside of the context that caused harm can be healing. This might involve personal prayer, meditation or studying Scripture independently or with a supportive group. Faith isn’t owned by the institution that wounded you.
Find Supportive Community
You don’t have to heal in isolation. As Lifeway Women notes, “Healing is a journey of courage, resilience and faith; remain open as the enemy’s plan is to isolate you, steal from you and destroy what is beautiful and faith-filled in you.” Find people who can walk with you in honesty and love, not judgment and pressure.
Set Healthy Boundaries
Boundaries are not a betrayal of grace—they are a form of it. Limiting contact with individuals or environments that are harmful is a way of honoring your God-given worth. Boundaries protect what matters: your spiritual and emotional well-being.
Embrace the Healing Process
“Recovering from high-control religion often includes grieving the ways we were taught about the world, people and how to navigate relationships,” Anderson reminds us. That process may be long and imperfect. But it is holy work.
Church hurt is real. But Jesus isn’t the problem. If anything, He’s the solution. Maybe faith isn’t something to abandon but something to reclaim.
