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A Biblical Perspective on Spiritual Authority and Critical Thinking

When I was in a cult I believed that my pastor’s claims to authority obligated me to obey him. I accepted what he said uncritically. I thought he spoke for God.

Today, I understand that when I blindly obey someone who claims to have spiritual authority I put myself at risk of spiritual abuse.

Evangelicals can avoid spiritual abuse if leaders recognize their role as servants of the truth and if followers recognize their own responsibility to cultivate critical thinking.

Spiritual Authority

Spiritual authority requires three things to function in a healthy manner: truth, trustworthiness, and accountability. Each of these topics deserves its own future post. For now, this summary will suffice.

1.) Healthy Spiritual Authority Requires Truth

In order for someone to claim spiritual authority they must base that claim on veracious authority, i.e., reality according to the true revelation of God.

For example, a prophet who claimed to speak for God in the Old Testament was required to prove his authority by whether or not what he prophesied came true. If it did not, the people were not to listen to him or be afraid of him (Deut. 18:20-22). It was not enough for a prophet to claim that he was a prophet and therefore people should follow him. Nor could he threaten people with violence in order to make them follow him. His only sign of authority was veracity: Did his words come true, or didn’t they?

Veracious authority cannot coerce others to follow it. Bernard Ramm, former dean of the theology school at Baylor, notes that:

“Veracious authority may not use physical force, as that would be self-defeating. Its force is an ultimatum: ‘Follow these principles and you will discover truth; disregard them and you will wander in the labyrinth of error.’”

The New Testament strongly emphasizes truth as a qualification for spiritual leaders (cf. Acts 20:28-31; 1 Tim 3:9; 2 Tim 4:2-4; Titus 1:9, 10, 14). If someone claims to have spiritual authority but does not speak the truth of God according to God’s revelation—regardless of what position that person may hold in a church or how much punishment they threaten—he or she is making an illegitimate claim.

This requires critical thinking from God’s people. Says Bernard Ramm, “God’s revelation is a revelation of Truth, and therefore the authority of God can never call for the stultification of the intelligence.”

Indeed, mindless obedience by followers can lead to an increased susceptibility to spiritual abuse. Ramm asks:

“How can we avoid the tragedy of mistaking the voice of man for the voice of God? For millennia human voices have been raised that have claimed to speak with the authority of God. What is merely a human voice must not deceive us. We must be most demanding in our process of differentiating the voice of God from the voice of man.”

2.) Healthy Spiritual Authority Requires Trustworthiness

The second aspect of spiritual authority is trustworthiness. Spiritual leaders are not born with authority, nor can they appoint themselves to a position of authority, nor can they threaten to punish people who don’t recognize their authority. Instead, they must qualify to be spiritual leaders through trustworthiness. Trustworthiness is proven by competence and godly character.

Competence is the first component of trustworthiness.

When Paul lists qualifications for positions of spiritual leadership in the church, he includes several areas of demonstrated competence. He says that elders must be worthy of respect. They also must be people who manage their own households well, keeping their children under control with all dignity, for “if a man does not know how to manage his own household, how will he take care of the church of God?” (1 Tim. 3:5). He adds that spiritual leaders should also have a good reputation with people outside the church; they must be tested prior to attaining leadership; and they must be faithful in all things (1 Tim. 3:7, 10-12). In the book of Titus, Paul adds that spiritual leaders must demonstrate competence to teach God’s truth (Titus 1:9).

Spiritual authorities, according to these passages, must demonstrate competence in social, religious, economic, and familial spheres of life.

Character is the second component of trustworthiness.

Just as a spiritual leader’s competence in life should be obvious to the people around him or her, so too should their godly character be evident to people in different spheres of their life.

Paul lists a number of godly character traits as qualifications for spiritual leaders in the church. These traits are not optional; they are the standard. Traits required of a person in order to qualify as a spiritual leader include being above reproach, monogamous, temperate, prudent, hospitable, sober, gentle, peaceable, not pugnacious, not greedy, mature in the faith, humble, dignified, truthful (1 Timothy 3:2-8); not self-willed, not quick-tempered, loving what is good, sensible, just, devout, self-controlled (Titus 1:6-9); eager to serve voluntarily and not under compulsion, not lording it over the flock entrusted to their care, and clothed with humility (1 Peter 5:2-5). By demonstrating these godly characteristics, spiritual leaders become examples for those who follow them (1 Peter 5:3; Heb. 13:7).

Followers must evaluate a person who claims to have spiritual authority by these New Testament qualifications—not just in a formal setting such as an ordination meeting, but on an ongoing basis as he or she lives life within a church community.

While no leader can ever achieve perfection, the overall trend of a Spirit-filled authority’s life over the long term should be increasing wisdom (skill in living, i.e., competence) and spiritual fruit (godly character).

3.) Healthy Spiritual Authority Requires Accountability

Spiritual authorities are accountable both to God and to people.

My former pastor used to say that only God could call a pastor to account. Ironically, the very passage he used to justify that statement–Hebrews 13:17–is also the key passage for the concept of accountability by spiritual leaders. It says in part, “Obey your leaders and submit to them, for they keep watch over your souls as those who will give an account” (italics added).

To whom must they give account? From other New Testament passages (2 Cor 5:10; James 3:1; 1 Cor 4:2; 1 Pet 5:4), it is clear that spiritual authorities must give account both to God and to fellow peer-leaders. And because God provides lists of qualifications for spiritual leaders (see scriptures in previous sections on truth and trustworthiness), followers also must evaluate their leaders to see if they have met these qualifications.

Napoleon Bonaparte, dictator of France. Spiritual leaders should shrink from such characterization, yet some act like tyrants.

There are no spiritual authorities in the New Testament who sit alone at the top of an organizational chart.

The clearest New Testament model for ecclesiastical governance is a plurality of elders and deacons. Alexander Strauch devotes an entire chapter to the biblical requirement for a plurality of elders in his excellent book Biblical Eldership. New Testament scholar Daniel Wallace says that the “consistent pattern in the New Testament is that every church had several elders,” citing, among other passages, Acts 11:30; 15:2, 4; 16:4; 20:17, 28; Phil 1:1; 1 Tim 5:17; Titus 1:5; James 5:14; 1 Pet 5:1-2, and especially Acts 14:23 where Paul and Barnabas appointed “elders in every church.”

The reason for a plurality of elders in the church is to provide mutual accountability among the leaders in order to prevent a single leader from going astray. Even the apostles were accountable to other apostles, as is evident when Paul confronted Peter (Gal 2:11-14) and when Paul submitted his teaching ministry to the scrutiny of the leaders of the church in Jerusalem (Gal 2:-1-2).

Robert Greenleaf, author of the book Servant Leadership, says:

“To be a lone chief atop a pyramid is abnormal and corrupting. None of us are perfect by ourselves, and all of us need the help and correcting influence of close colleagues. When someone is moved atop a pyramid, that person no longer has colleagues, only subordinates. Even the frankest and bravest of subordinates do not talk with their boss in the same way that they talk with colleagues who are equals, and normal communication patterns become warped.”

Necessity of Critical Thinking

Critical thinking guards a Christian from submitting to false spiritual authorities.

The Bible has much to say about exercising discernment, critical thinking, and being on guard against false teaching from false authorities.

In the book of Acts, Paul commends the Berean believers because they searched the scriptures diligently to see if what he taught them was true (Acts 17:11). In Galatians, Paul warns the Galatian believers to hold fast to the revealed gospel and not to follow deceivers or anyone who preaches a different gospel (Gal 1:6-9). Indeed, the Galatian believers were not even to follow Paul himself if his message did not correspond to the truth of God.

Elsewhere, Paul warns against false teachers, false shepherds, false apostles, false prophets, and even false Christs (2 Tim 3:1-5; 2 Thess 2:1-12; Acts 20:28-32). He also tells believers to be on their guard, to be alert, to stand fast in the truth, and to have a mind cleared for action (Col 2:8-23; Eph 6:10-17).

Paul’s commands for alertness and clear-mindedness contrast with the misunderstanding in some churches that critical thinking equates to rebellion. Ronald Enroth says:

“When the mind and the values of knowledge and understanding are rejected, downplayed, and scorned as being ‘rebellious,’ the mind becomes subverted and the will is subdued into passivity, producing a dangerous phenomenon many refer to as ‘mind control.’”

Ten Steps toward Critical Thinking

In my former church, we embraced a counterfeit of critical thinking. Our pastor encouraged us to discern and evaluate all things. He even allowed us to correct certain factual errors he sometimes made when quoting scripture. What he refused to tolerate was any broad questioning of his teaching or character. He was God’s man, he insisted, appointed and gifted by the Lord to bring us into the light.

Consequently, we dared voice no contradictions to our pastor and our critical thinking focused outward at the world rather than inward at our own church. We became judgmental and condemning of outsiders even as we ignored serious discrepancies between our pastor’s behavior and biblical qualifications for spiritual authority.

How can a Christian develop critical thinking skills? Here are ten steps I wish I had followed:

  • Pray for the Spirit of wisdom (James 1:5-8).
  • Intentionally encounter diverse people and perspectives. Travel. Listen to podcasts from other preachers and teachers. Cultivate friends outside of your church circle.
  • Zondervan’s Counterpoint series is an excellent way to study thorny theological matters. Scholars from each major position present their case on a particular topic, and the other scholars interact with those essays.
  • Learn to dialogue instead of shutting down at the first hint of difference.
  • Educate yourself about the world at large. Read foreign English newspapers. Subscribe to a blog (or ten). Think outside the box.
  • Learning to think critically is like training for an athletic event. Find “trainers” who will stretch you, tone you, and give you a good workout. Ravi Zacharias always helps me to think more clearly (find his website here).
  • Idolize no man or woman. Respect and admire, but put no one on a pedestal except for God.
  • Do theology in community. Yes, discuss spiritual things in your own local church, but also engage with the Church universal, and the historical church. There are (and have been) wise Christians throughout the world who have thought well about God, other people, and themselves.
  • Embrace mystery and give grace for “grayness” in disputable matters. Not every theological issue is critical for salvation. Really. As one of my seminary professors says, heaven will be like torn paper: it tears unevenly. We will be surprised at some of the people who made it in…and even more surprised by who’s missing.
  • Relax. Enjoy being part of the Body of Christ and humble yourself to receive from other people, even people outside your church or denomination. If Solomon’s temple couldn’t hold all of the presence of God, neither can your little church.

Cultivating critical thinking will help Christians evaluate spiritual leaders honestly and will go a long way to preventing spiritual abuse by unqualified leaders.

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Eight Ways to Identify Religious Brainwashing: The “Sacred Science” (Part 5 of 8)

This is the fifth in an eight-part series on how to identify brainwashing in a destructive group or cult. It is based off of Dr. Robert Jay Lifton’s “Eight-Point Model of Thought Reform” and borrows from several other authorities on the topic of religious mind-control.*

1.) Part One: Milieu Control
2.) Part Two: Mystical Manipulation
3.) Part Three: The Demand for Purity
4.) Part Four: The Cult of Confession
5.) Part Five: The “Sacred Science”
6.) Part Six: Loading the Language
7.) Part Seven: Doctrine Over Person
8.) Part Eight: The Dispensing of Existence

*Stephen Martin’s book, The Heresy of Mind Control, and Margaret Singer’s Cults in Our Midst.

“I don’t want to sound presumptuous,” my pastor said quietly, sitting on the living room chair with his legs crossed, “but because of how God has worked in my life I am likely the wisest man you will ever meet.”

His words stuck in my mind like peanut-butter—made my thoughts feel sluggish and thick. I gulped hard and tried to swallow. I was 19.

“Therefore,” he continued serenely, “I am trustworthy and you need to obey what I say, believing that God is working through me whether you understand it or not. Don’t you, Steve.” It was a statement, not a question.

And I agreed.

In our church we had been taught for years that pastors are appointed by God to hold absolute spiritual authority over their flocks. They are called, equipped and sustained by God, and God alone can question them or call them to account. Followers must submit to them without question. The Bible tells us so… doesn’t it?

With no questions allowed, my pastor proceeded to legislate an area of personal preference. An hour later when he got up to leave, I showed him meekly to the door.

“Thank you for helping me to see the truth,” I said, and meant it. Thank you for speaking for God.

What is “Sacred Science”?

“Sacred Science” is the term used by Dr. Robert Lifton to describe totalitarian environments which maintain an aura of sacredness—of unquestionable perfection—around their teaching and practices.

Leaders in such environments frown upon critical-thinking, since the teacher is an “expert” on the subject matter and the audience can presumably contribute little to his or her understanding. The leader encourages a spirit of submission and unity—actually uniformity—instead of discernment and occasional disagreement.

When a member of the audience raises his or her hand to point out an error, the leader may sound frustrated and angry with them. “You don’t have the training that I do,” says the leader. “You need to trust me because God has specially gifted me and prepared me. Someday you’ll understand. Until then, you need to follow me by faith.”

There are two components which help to create an environment in which “sacred science” is promoted and critical thinking is discouraged. Find these two components, and you’ll find folks who have enabled brainwashing by a religious leader.

1.)    The Halo Effect

In order to brainwash followers, a religious leader must create the illusion that he or she is nearly perfect in wisdom and intelligence. They do this by emphasizing their gifts, both natural and spiritual, and by developing a charismatic personality.

Stephen Martin explains it this way:

“Human nature tends to believe those who are perceived as authority figures… A cult is typically formed by a person who has charisma. By seeming to demonstrate the miraculous or simply having an impressive personality, he/she may easily convince us that he/she is the spokesperson of God. As observers, we thus attribute an aura of sacredness to such an individual so that a ‘he can do no wrong’ mentality develops—thus a ‘halo effect.’”

For instance, my former pastor had gone to one of the nation’s top three Ivy League schools and then attended a premier seminary. He studied the Bible for decades, had learned Greek and Hebrew, and spoke with a confidence that allowed no questions. Since no one else in our small New England church knew the original biblical languages, our pastor appealed to his knowledge as a way to authenticate his special revelations from God. I, for one, believed him. Instead of thinking critically about his claims, I chose to give my pastor the unquestioned authority he desired. In doing so, I became a culpable partner in my own brainwashing.

Followers of a “sacred science” leader become confused as to what is from God and what is from the leader. The lines become blurred. Since the leader claims that he or she tells the group what God wants them to know, followers may abandon critical thinking and accept unquestioningly the claims of the leader. The leader hijacks the minds of his or her followers and promotes an environment of total dependence and mental enslavement. When a group accepts a leader’s claims that he or she speaks for God and that his or her opinion is God’s divine word, bad things happen. This is religious brainwashing.

Please note: this is not to say that pastors and spiritual leaders cannot claim to speak for God when preaching from his Word. The point here is that leaders of cults make their personal interpretations of scripture equal to scripture, they make personal revelations from God equal to scripture, and they make their personal opinions on disputable matters equal to divine law. And they use all of these methods to manipulate their followers into doing what the leader wants. Such leaders promote themselves as God’s infallible, unquestionable messenger whose opinion is always true and right. Thus, anyone who disagrees with them is evil and must be proud or unsubmissive. The Apostle Paul made sure to distinguish his personal opinions from divine revelation (cf. 1 Cor 7).

2.)    Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell

Totalitarian religious groups discourage critical thinking by labeling question-askers as “unsubmissive,” “proud,” or “of the devil.” They usually look askance at other sources of truth about the Bible, such as commentaries, Bible software, or theological classes. “Don’t waste your time with this chaff,” they might say. “Be a ‘one-Book’ person—study the Bible only and make sure to listen to the leader’s sermon on such-and-such a topic as the final authority.”

While this may sound strange to folks who come from a free-thinking background where discussion is encouraged and leaders are humble and open, there are many churches in the United States which consider critical thinking evil. Questioners are met with statements such as “Don’t cause disunity,” or “Have a teachable spirit,” or “Just believe.”

I sometimes feel reluctant to use my own church as an example, since we eventually fell on the extreme end of control and legalism. Yet I think other believers can learn from our example, since it took us 25 years to get to that point. We didn’t start out that way. And toward the end, when things got really bad, critical thinking again started to bubble up through cracks in our view of our pastor’s “sacred” persona.

A Personal Example

In my second year at seminary, when I was 29, my pastor asked me to research the limited atonement (Christ died only for the elect) versus unlimited atonement (Christ died even for the non-elect) debate. I felt surprised, since he had never encouraged me to study a topic for myself.

“I want you to list all of the biblical passages which teach each side of this debate,” he told me.

Since he had authorized the study, I attacked the problem with zeal. I perused books and articles, talked with friends at seminary to get their opinion, read widely on both sides of the debate, and eventually came up with a six-page document which detailed the prominent arguments of both sides and the scriptures they use. The main thing I learned from my research was that very smart and godly people subscribe to both positions. I couldn’t wait to discuss my findings with my pastor.

On Christmas Break, I entered the small parsonage in Southern Maine through a dust of snow and slippery slush. The evening was gray and full of murk. My gloved hand clutched a manila folder stuffed with color-coded passages. I felt like a 19th century school-boy approaching his headmaster to decline Latin verbs, or a knight entering the lists. I couldn’t wait to hear my pastor’s perspective on the Atonement debate and gain even more insight into what I imagined would remain a thorny issue.

My pastor welcomed me warmly and we sat at his kitchen table. The big bay window to my left overlooked an apple orchard and I watched the trees with delight. Eight-foot fences surrounded the orchard—the farmer’s best attempt to keep enterprising deer from sampling his harvest. The fence kept deer out and apples in. Simple, I thought. Build a fence high enough and you can keep even the most agile animal out. I wonder if the same is true for ideas?

Ferris* shook my sheaf of papers and spread them over the caramel-colored table-top. Painstakingly, he moved his index finger down the left-hand margin, noting each verse I’d typed to support both positions. At the last verse he looked up and my heart dropped. He frowned.

“Steve,” he said, “you failed to follow my instructions exactly. Do you remember what I asked you to do?”

The blood rushed to my face and my pulse fluttered like a cat-clawed mouse. Oh no! I thought. What have I done? I couldn’t have taken this assignment more seriously. I did my very best. What have I done wrong?

My pastor rephrased his question: “What was your assignment?”

I had written it down, in order to be certain. These things had a way of morphing in my pastor’s mind over time. I looked at my index card and said, “To find every verse in the Bible which supports either limited or unlimited atonement.”

Ferris huffed through his nose. Then he leaned forward and spoke sternly. “Steve, you failed to obey my instructions exactly. I told you to find every verse in the Bible which supports limited atonement. There are none. You free-lanced.”

Really? I thought. I’m being chastised for seeking balance? For wanting to understand a debate intelligently? Why am I even at seminary? I should just listen to what Ferris has to say about everything and spare myself the cost of tuition.

Part of me shriveled under his gaze and I didn’t know what to say. I was growing tired of the constant belittling—the game of never being good enough, no matter what. Of never being allowed to entertain alternative perspectives. But I was too weak to protest; too timid and too beat.

Ferris continued: “Seminary professors are going to want you to study all these debates from both angles, but God’s servants are not to be involved in human controversies, do you understand? God’s Word is clear on this matter. You don’t have to waste your time debating with anyone—that’s just what Satan wants you to do. Your job is to know what God’s Word says and to teach it clearly—the biblical word is elenko, which means to set something forth plainly. There is no debate.”

I trudged out of the parsonage carrying my little manila folder. Ferris didn’t care to entertain my questions. The discussion was over. As I got into my vehicle I threw the folder against the back seat. Papers scattered over the slushy floor. Across the snowed-in yard the fence stood tall and the sun had set.

And in my brain, it was night.

*Not his real name.

Next Post: A Biblical View of Critical Thinking and Relating to Authority

Related Post: One Who Got Away: Libby Phelps Alvarez, Religious Brainwashing, and the Westboro Baptist Church

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A Son Speaks Out: Westboro Baptist Church and Fred Phelps

Sometimes a single document can offer supreme wisdom about a mind-blowing issue. Wisdom which a thousand other articles, documentaries, and interviews can only embellish but not improve. Wisdom with far-ranging application.

I believe that this is such a document.

The following letter by Mark W. Phelps, son of Westboro Baptist Church pastor Fred Phelps, originally appeared in the Topeka Capital-Journal on May 19, 1993. I re-post it here unabridged, with the editor’s note in italics.

[Capital-Journal] Editor’s Note: This is a letter Mark Phelps wrote last year to citizens of Topeka and northeast Kansas. It is printed at his request. Contacted by telephone in California July 7, 1994, Mark Phelps said the letter still represents his feelings. He also cautioned people against taking the letter out of context, saying there is “gentleness” in the context of the letter and a hope that the community can better understand Fred Phelps based on what the letter contains.

Many people have been asking me, over the past several weeks, about my father. They want to know what I think about him and “What is he really like?” People’s interest in what I think baffles me, but after careful consideration, I decided to respond.

Rev. Fred Phelps as a young man.

What is he like? Well, it’s been 19 years since I left home, but his behavior still appears to be the same. He considers his environment to be against him without admitting, acknowledging or taking responsibility for how he contributes to that. He likes to show himself as being moral, pro-family, pro-Bible, but his actions just don’t add up to that.

I believe in God and the Bible, and my father’s behavior doesn’t fit the description of behavior that would show in the life of one who loves God; behavior characteristics such as Love, Joy, Peace, Longsuffering, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness, Self-control. Instead, my father’s behavior characterizes, I believe, Hate, Outbursts of Wrath, Contention, Jealousy, Vengefulness, Misery, Harshness, and Selfish ambition.

He mis-states the truth about his own behavior, about others, about the Bible, with apparent ease and regularity. He behaves with a viciousness the likes of which I have never seen. He accepts no genuine accountability in his life and is subject to no one. His lifestyle betrays the sacred trust of what a pastor, husband, father and grandfather should be. I suppose if a comparison were made between the life of Jesus Christ and my father, there would not be much to compare.

Rev. Fred Phelps of Westboro Baptist Church.

I also realize that my father is a very unstable person who is determined to hurt people. And because he is so bound to be hateful and hurtful, and because he’s so untrustworthy, I believe it’s a good idea to respond to him with caution much like the caution used when dealing with a rattlesnake or a mad dog.

You see, the causes that he crusades for, including the Bible, are not the issue here. He simply wants to hate and to have a forum for his hate. If the causes he focuses on were the issue, that is, if they really meant something to him in his heart and he meant for the things he does to be for the good, his behavior would not be what it is. He would not betray his message with his behavior. But, when he needs to, to vent his hate, he readily goes outside the bounds of any previously stated “value” or “cause” he may have supported. He experiences no moral dilemma when it comes to doing what he wants to do. If it weren’t the homosexuals, it would be something else.

Yet checks and balances on his behavior are appropriate, on the part of the community, in order to at least confine his destructive behaviors and to limit his influence. I believe that Topekans are making a good effort to try and stop him and should continue to do so. He can seem very intimidating. He can use foul language and come across with a booming voice to the community, but the truth is, like the Wizard of Oz, when Toto pulls the curtain back, instead of this big powerful individual, it’s only a small, pathetic old man. I feel sorry for my father as I would for anyone who displays this kind of hate and evil viciousness. These can only be the manifestations of tortured, injured and agonizing souls.

– Mark W. Phelps

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Eight Ways to Identify Religious Brainwashing: The Cult of Confession (Part 4 of 8)

This is the fourth in an eight-part series on how to identify brainwashing in a destructive group or cult. It is based off of Dr. Robert Jay Lifton’s “Eight-Point Model of Thought Reform” and borrows from several other authorities on the topic of religious mind-control.*

1.) Part One: Milieu Control
2.) Part Two: Mystical Manipulation
3.) Part Three: The Demand for Purity
4.) Part Four: The Cult of Confession
5.) Part Five: The “Sacred Science”
6.) Part Six: Loading the Language
7.) Part Seven: Doctrine Over Person
8.) Part Eight: The Dispensing of Existence

*Stephen Martin’s book, The Heresy of Mind Control, and Margaret Singer’s Cults in Our Midst.

The fourth symptom of religious brainwashing is the so-called “cult of confession.” While healthy Christian groups encourage open-hearted lives and therapeutic sharing, unhealthy groups turn confession of sin into a means of manipulation and abuse.

Here’s how they do it.

1.)    Exploitation of Weakness

Religious brainwashing is all about control. A person in a place of power misuses their position to meet their own needs instead of tending the people entrusted to their care. Very often, the people under their care are emotionally or intellectually fragile. The abusive spiritual leader controls them by exploiting that weakness to manipulate their actions.

Mandated “sharing” is the first step to brainwash someone in regard to the cult of confession. Unhealthy religious groups take a verse such as James 5:16 and put a twist on it. The verse says “Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed.” In its context, this verse refers to people who have fallen ill as a result of sin.

Cult leaders take this verse out of context and use it as leverage to make people in their congregation confess sins publicly. The format can resemble something more like a public interrogation than a willing confession. Doing this exposes a person’s flaws or weaknesses to an entire group. This makes that person nakedly susceptible to the leader’s supposed solutions of greater effort and purity. Dr. Robert Lifton says that such forced confession “becomes a means of exploiting, rather than offering solace.”

My former pastor did this, probably without realizing what he was doing. He would frequently stand members in front of the congregation during an evening “church family” service. He would then have them share with the whole church about some hidden sin they had committed, in order that everything would be brought “to the light” and they could find forgiveness and healing.

The problem with this was that the sharing was usually coerced—not voluntary—and it was an invasion of privacy with an ulterior motive. Since at one time or another almost every member of the congregation had stood sobbing before everyone else, there was a culture in our church of extreme vulnerability and a sense that nothing in life was private—nothing at all. This leads to the next step.

2.)    Degradation Instead of Restoration

When my pastor coerced church members to publicly confess sins in front of the entire congregation, the stated purpose was so that the offender could find healing and restoration. Yet the effect of coerced confession was actually public humiliation and a degradation of the person in front of their friends and family. Restoration places balm on a wound; degradation keeps ripping off the scab.

In healthy churches, members may sometimes feel led by the Holy Spirit to confess sins publicly in order to repudiate the sin, break down demonic bondages, and receive prayer support and encouragement. However, in my former church such confessions were often coerced and were derived from private pastoral counseling sessions where the person had poured out their heart and soul to the pastor. The pastor then turned around and used this private information as public coin, breaching confidence. The ultimate effect was to degrade the confessing church member in the eyes of those closest to him or her, and to make the entire congregation think even more highly of the purity of the pastor.

The Bible knows nothing of this.

Instead, biblical confession primarily involves confessing sins to God (1 John 1:9) who then forgives and cleanses the sinner. At times—especially if the sin is against another person—it is appropriate to confess the sin to that person (Matt 5:23-24), perhaps in the presence of another safe person if the interaction warrants it. And in some instances a person may be led by the Spirit to confess a sin publicly in order to receive prayer and intercession. But unhealthy religious groups skip these steps and add a twist, jumping right into public coerced confession. The purpose is to keep all members degraded and humiliated, while the leader comes off smelling like a rose.

“The goal of the totalist leadership in the exposure process,” says Stephen Martin, “is to eliminate any confidentiality about personal matters… If you were ever to gain victory over that problem, the leaders would suffer a huge loss of control over you.”

And they don’t want that to happen.

3.)    Perpetual Accusation Machine

Unhealthy religious leaders can keep their followers brainwashed by subjecting them to a continual state of accusation. Instead of promoting growth and maturity in Jesus Christ, group leaders foster spiritual infantilism by keeping members in a perpetual state of gloom and penitence. Followers are so busy analyzing themselves for peccadilloes and responding to accusations from the group leader(s) that they never feel capable of progressing spiritually. They live like Eeyore in Winnie the Pooh, always under a personal cloud of gloom. This keeps them heavily dependent on the group leader to instruct them in the way of salvation.

It is no accident that the word “Satan” means “accuser.” The Devil launches a continual stream of accusations against Christ-followers in an effort to discourage them and to make them inefficient and ineffective in the Christian life. Leaders of unhealthy religious groups often mimic this style of relating to people, since “all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God” (Rom 3:23). Indeed, the Apostle Paul seems to encourage such a lifestyle of accusation when he confesses his struggle with sin in Romans 7.

Yet the best antidote against a lifestyle of accusation—for Paul or for you and me—is Romans 8. In this chapter, Paul reminds his readers that the Holy Spirit delivers us from bondage to sin. He then encourages believers by saying that those God has called are destined for glory and nothing on earth can condemn them. Instead, “In all these things we overwhelmingly conquer through him who loved us… nothing will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus” (Rom 8:37, 39).

That’s good news—that’s the true gospel.

4.)    The Seductive Tyranny of Worm Theology

Ironically, one of the most attractive lures of an unhealthy religious group is the appearance that group members enjoy a high level of intimacy as a result of their public confessions. Newcomers to the group may see such openness as a sign of health, when in fact it may be a symptom of disease. As Stephen Martin notes, “A totalist group assumes to have a type of ownership of a person’s inner self. The member, consequently, views confession as a means of oneness with the group and as a necessary means toward betterment of himself or herself.”

“Confession as a means of oneness with the group.” Sound strange? It sounded normal to me. For example, when I went to college for the first time—at a small Christian university in the Midwest—I bemoaned the apparent lack of genuine self-disclosure among my fellow students. This was because I had been trained from an early age in my church to interpret normal healthy boundaries as a lack of honesty and openness. The problem was actually with me, not with my fellow students.

If you read my journal from those days, you would encounter page after page full of self-accusation and self-loathing, as well as plenty of judgmental comments directed toward my classmates. It was as if I couldn’t make it through a day without beating myself up about how worthless I was and how little I did right. I longed to return to my home church where I could receive a weekly dose of public confessions, sharing of “struggles” which never seemed to improve, and the warm intimacy of shared humiliation.

Afghan Shiites perform self-flagellation in 2009.

Religious scholars describe this unhealthy attitude of perpetual struggle, self-flagellation, and self-loathing as “worm theology.” It originated with John Calvin and was made popular by the Isaac Watts hymn, “Alas and Did My Savior Bleed?” where one line runs, “Would he devote that sacred head for such a worm as I?”

The problem with this theology is that it is half-true. Apart from Christ, all people are hopeless sinners. Yet worm theology is also half-false, because believers are indwelt by the Spirit of Christ and are made in the image of God, giving them great value. This is not a mushy bowl of elementary-school self-esteem training; it is the clear biblical reality which trumpets the worth and value of human beings.

By teaching only one-half of the truth about believers—that we are sinners—leaders of unhealthy religious groups miss the tension that we are also moving from glory to glory in Christ and that there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. Instead, they promote a culture of depression and dependence which makes their followers susceptible to mindless devotion to the leader.

The solution to all of these problems is to hold in tension a clear-eyed view of sin with a healthy sense of biblical self-worth in Christ. By disavowing simplistic extremes, religious leaders and followers can walk in grace and truth and avoid the cult of confession.

Related Post: One Who Got Away: Libby Phelps Alvarez, Religious Brainwashing, and the Westboro Baptist Church

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A Land That I Heard Of

Every childhood has its clouds, we discover. Every cowboy has his sad, sad song.

Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high,
There’s a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby.

My mother’s beautiful soprano voice would sing to me when I was feeling blue as a little boy. I remember the piano room at our old house in North Yarmouth, Maine, was also the children’s playroom. Such a contrast it was between my mother’s classically-trained voice singing Judy Garland’s song or soaring arias from The Messiah and my brother and I waddling around the room in diapers, executing energetic pirouettes on the waxed wooden floor and rolling amidst colorful blocks and Tonka trucks. A small brass lamp shone upon the dark wood of the piano and yellowed the family pictures which marched in rows across its damask-covered top.

As my mother practiced her scales my brother and I ransacked the wooden toy box for our maimed Transformers and teeth-marked Legos; pulled out the Tinker-toy set with its plastic flanges and notched dowels; and stacked our Lincoln Logs in a thousand variations of engineering instability.

Few of our creations survived the hour; none could house a family or hold back the barbarian hordes we imagined lurked just beyond the circle of lamplight outside our door. We dreamed small dreams and ate small meals and wore small clothes. The land we had heard of was little bigger than that dual-purpose room; our troubles seemed mostly confined to the splinters we occasionally caught in our over-active rear-ends.

Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue,
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true.

Hunched back on its granite ledge beneath large oaks and brooding pines the small house was neat but timid. As we grew bigger, my brother and I preferred the out of doors whenever weather—and mother!—permitted us to play in the rocky sand or weedy grass that grew like a cancer patient’s stricken mop over the granite ledge. We longed for wider spaces and faster paces; we blazed trails through the woods to the granite quarry behind our house with its black pools and jellied globes of floating frog eggs held in aqueous suspension. For us, a broken robin’s egg was Spanish treasure; an unexpected trickle kept us occupied for hours. 

The dreams that I dared to dream as a child were few and easily counted: I wanted to be safe and happy. I wanted my parents to love me and I wanted the biggest piece of whatever dessert was divided after our simple dinner. I fought with my brother and teased my sister and sometimes told a lie. I went to church every Sunday and heard about Jesus. I was not a very bad child but I was as depraved as any other.

Someday I’ll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far
behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops
Away above the chimney tops
That’s where you’ll find me.

I did not understand why “somewhere over the rainbow” touched my heart as a little child; not until years later when I remembered my childhood from the far side of a Bible-cult experience and recognized my desire to be in a land that I had heard of “once in a lullaby.” A place far from spiritual abuse, legalism, and manipulation. I longed for a place where troubles melt like lemon drops away above the chimney tops.

But did I really have to wait until “somewhere over the rainbow”? Or was there hope for the broken-hearted today? “I have told you these things so that in me you may have peace,” said Jesus. “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world” (Jn 16:33).

As a little child in that little house in the woods I didn’t understand that the One who lives somewhere over the rainbow was also near to me each day of my childhood (Phil 4:5b). I didn’t really understand that he had gone away to prepare a place for me in Glory (Jn 14:1-3). Now I know that he did not forsake me; he was always with me, even in the clouds and rain of a darkened childhood. And I also know that someday he will come back for me and take me to be where he is: Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high, to a Land that I heard of once in a lullaby. 

Somewhere over the rainbow
Bluebirds fly.
Birds fly over the rainbow.
Why then, oh why can’t I?

If happy little bluebirds fly
Beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can’t I?

Christian blogger Rachel Held Evans has a helpful list of resources for recovering from spiritual or domestic abuse here.

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Throwing Christians to the Christians? Blogging as Bloodsport

“Whatever you have done to the least of these my brothers, you have done it unto me.” – Jesus

Who needs lions when you can throw Christians to the Christians?

This started out as a blog post about Mars Hill and Pastor Mark Driscoll. It was not going to be a favorable post.

Pastor Mark Driscoll of Mars Hill Church. Photo by John Keatley.

I once said on Facebook that Mark Driscoll “has a case of verbal diarrhea,” a statement I later apologized for. Yet Driscoll’s crassness and provoking statements anger me. His personality triggers me—makes me feel shamed and judged. I planned to write about him as an example of a controlling leader.

When I started researching about him, I grew even more concerned.

First about him.

Then about me.

Then about other bloggers.

And finally about the online Christian community at large.

Here is what I found.

Gloating Over My Enemies  

Earlier this year, a popular Christian blogger (Matthew Paul Turner) published a post about a church discipline matter at Mars Hill Church in Seattle. A young man named Andrew seemed to have been mistreated. The church seemed controlling, possibly cult-like. The story was—and is—compelling.

Within days, the blogosphere went crazy.

Articles appeared in Slate magazine, the Wartburg Watch, The Stranger, and in many other blogs and Internet forums. Each blog referenced the article by Turner and sounded off on Driscoll. Selected video clips from the controversial pastor’s sermons went viral. Groups formed for survivors who had left the mega-church. Many folks—both laymen and former elders—came forward to express their concern over what they consider draconian discipline at Mars Hill.

The more I read, the more I disliked Mark Driscoll.

He’s a misogynist, people said. A control freak. An immature, shame-based leader who browbeats elders and delights in crudities. He preaches about sex to exorcise his own shadows, another person said. A bully, opined well-respected blogger Rachel Held Evans, back in 2011 before the latest news came out. A cult-leader, others said. This man must be stopped!

And I agreed. I come from a spiritual abuse background and can often scent the symptoms.

So I opened a fresh page in Microsoft Word and began to draft a juicy blog piece about Mark Driscoll. I thought I might title it, “Mark Driscoll, Mars Hill, and the Leadership Reef.” Reef, as in you can shipwreck people’s faith by your leadership style. Clever. Devastatingly so.

But then I remembered a verse I’d studied years ago when I was in a cult myself. Proverbs 18:17: “The first to plead his case seems right, until another comes forward and examines him.” Suddenly my one-sided arguments didn’t sound so clever.

Instead they sounded angry. Simplistic.

Gloating.

14,000 people attend Mars Hill, many of whom would never darken a traditional church door. Several of my friends have testified to me that Mark Driscoll has spoken prophetically into their lives in ways that other pastors haven’t. I may dislike his personality; I disagree with many of his methods; and I think his leadership style may unintentionally harm people.

But I can’t write a blog post about this Christian leader, at least not today.

My motives aren’t right.

I haven’t really researched about Mark. Just read one of his books, the Mars Hill website, and some opposing blogs. And while I don’t doubt that mistakes have been made at Mars Hill and people have gotten hurt, do I really have Driscoll’s best interest in mind? Or do I just want to generate blog traffic by capitalizing on his polarizing name? It seems so easy—gratifying, even—to publicly sink a knife into his back and hear the crowds roar.

Blogging as bloodsport, you might say.

I wonder if anyone else struggles with the same problem.

The Ecstasy of Agony

I think they sometimes do.

Ideally, Christian bloggers should educate, inform, and spur other believers on toward love, good deeds, and critical thinking. They can provoke, but they should not malign. Act as the conscience of the church and society, not the judge or executioner. They must avoid character assassination even as they warn of threats in doctrine or practice.

Responsible bloggers research controversial topics from both sides and offer robust perspective on each. Sure, anyone can write a one-sided diatribe against a provocative person. But do I really want to draw my conclusions from them? On the other hand, balance and diplomacy are a Christian blogger’s best friends.  

Sadly, some bloggers seem to have embraced a culture of antagonism.

Let me explain.

Deborah Tannen, a professor at Georgetown University and the author of The Argument Culture, puts it like this:

“The phenomenon I’d observed at the book-group meeting [where fellow scholars verbally tore apart a book in order to sound smart, rather than discussing its merits in order to benefit from it] was an example of what the cultural linguist Walter Ong calls ‘agonism,’ which he defines in Fighting for Life as ‘programmed contentiousness’ or ‘ceremonial combat.’ Agonism does not refer to disagreement, conflict, or vigorous dispute. It refers to ritualized opposition.”

The seduction of such ritualized opposition is the perceived merits of sounding smarter than another scholar, author, or public figure. It is the adrenaline rush of intellectual combat. The ecstasy of agony.

Tannen continues:

“Many aspects of our academic lives can be described as agonistic. For example, in our scholarly papers, most of us follow a conventional framework that requires us to position our work in opposition to someone else’s, which we prove wrong. The framework tempts—almost requires—us to oversimplify or even misrepresent others’ positions; cite the weakest example to make a generally reasonable work appear less so; and ignore facts that support others’ views, citing only evidence that supports our own positions.”

I believe that this climate of stylized opposition and over-simplification has occasionally infected some of our Christian blogs—if not always in the original blog posts, then certainly in the comments section.

The result is like throwing fellow Christians to the lions.

Bloggers who write whistle-blowing posts about other Christian leaders have not finished their job until they have coated their verbal fire with at least a little asbestos of grace. Otherwise, they leave their followers with lit brands, ready to run like Samson’s foxes through the fields, burning up the wheat with the chaff.

A quick look at the comments sections of Turner’s and Evans’s blogs provides several examples.

This quote was from the comments section of Ms. Evans’s blog:

“if we are throwing [Driscoll] under the bus for misogeny, but i am EFFING tired of Liberal Feminism being accepted in God’s people too… if we are trashing one, trash the other bad ideas too…” [sic]

And this:

“i disagree with [Evans] tagging articles about [Driscoll’s] teachings within the church that GOD has appointed him pastor of… No OUTSIDERS, especially conservative stuff-shirt d-bag ‘Christians’ or liberal hippie outsider ‘Christians’ who don’t attend my Corps/Church, get to critique how i lead my Youth Group until they are INVESTED IN IT… i don’t care if they write 1 million letters on how they disagree with HOW i teach solid biblical teachings” [sic]

Heated stuff.

A number of other commentators tried to reason with folks who made vicious comments. Lively threads popped up. Plenty of respectful dialogue did occur. But non-Christians occasionally weighed in with comments like, “This is why I left the church,” or “99.9% of crimes are committed by Christians.” Cheerful stuff.

Where in all of this was the balance? The perspective?  

The grace.

Blogging in the E-rena

This made me stop to think.

And think.

And think some more.

I began to feel sick to my stomach.

For some reason, the posts and comment sections of these blogs conjured the image of gladiatorial combat.

I began to hear the cheers of the crowds. The clang of metal on metal. Felt the sand under my feet in the arena.

I saw the bloggers as champions on yellow sand, sheathed in metal and wielding swords. They traded blows with their opponents—some matches were fair, others unfair. Some were honorable, others dishonorable. Hit after hit after hit. Several champions accumulated large followings.

And then a gladiator fell.

The crowd of spectators roared!

I roared too.

I looked up in the stands and saw thousands of faces—Christian faces—twisted with passion. Some called out for imprisonment and death. “Death! Death! Death!” they screamed.

Others raised their thumbs and shouted for mercy, “Live! Live! Live!”

The blogger stood triumphant over their opponent, one foot resting lightly on the chest of their defeated foe. Sword raised high. Eyes lifted to look for the pleasure of the emperor.

I followed their gaze up into the stands, to the dais where the emperor usually sat.

But the throne was empty.

The emperor was not there.

Instead, he was down on the dirt of the arena with the least of these.

Covered in blood.

Beneath the blogger’s foot.

I think we can all do better.

I know that I must do better. I am guilty of thinking the worst of public figures in Christianity without asking for the other side of the story. I almost wrote an article tearing to shreds a man I have never met. As a blogger, I sometimes have my own case of “verbal diarrhea.” I don’t want to be a lion.

I want to be like Christ.

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Someone Like Me: Anatomy of a Cult Member

I find this post somewhat embarrassing to write, but they say “our scars become our ministry” and I think God gets all the glory for that.

In this blog I have focused often on cult leaders and what makes them tick, and it seems only fair to turn the lens around and focus on what makes someone a devoted cult member.

Someone like me.

I stayed in a New England Bible-cult for 25 years, only having serious concerns during the last year of its existence. After our pastor was deposed, a church consulting agency which specializes in broken churches interviewed our elders. The consultants said it was the worst case of spiritual abuse they had seen in 40 years of ministry. Hurray for us.

The author at Bar Harbor, Maine, in the summer of 2010. It was in March of that year that the cult he was a member of broke apart.

As an identical twin, I’ve often mused as to why my brother left our cult when we were 17, but I stayed in for another 13 years. What was it about me that made me succumb so totally to the doctrine and practices of our pastor? Why couldn’t I see the warning signs? Might these same characteristics hold true for other cult members? I think they often do.

Here is a cocktail of six characteristics that made me a superb cult member. Do any of these describe you?

1.) Blind Follower.

All followers follow, but blind followers follow at any cost. I was so concerned to invest power in a leader that I idealized and followed even untrustworthy leaders. This made me susceptible to charismatic, confident, or charming personalities.

Since my former pastor demonstrated both confidence and charisma, I handed over the reins to my brain and let him steer me wherever he wanted. I suppose this made me feel safe—my soul was in the hands of my pastor—and I felt that I only had to worry about the details of life. I learned much later that God holds each person responsible for their own soul. No one can believe for you. And I was to follow my pastor only insofar as he followed Christ. Unfortunately, he was a blind guide and I followed him right off a spiritual cliff.

2.) Rule Abider/Legalist.

Cult followers usually have an exaggerated sense of rules and regulations. I sure did. For me, rules provided a rigid framework that helped me make sense of life and appeared to keep me from danger. They were like the lead blankets a radiologist lumped on me before X-rays. Heavy comfort. To me, the Bible was the ultimate Rule Book, and my pastor became the ultimate interpreter of those cosmic rules. Indeed, since my pastor claimed to have special insight into the Bible—and also claimed that God spoke to him personally—I latched on to him as an island of security in the confusing sea of life. When the rules became almost too heavy to bear, I embraced them as the lead security blanket which would help preserve my soul.

Even though I am no longer in a cult, I still give rules undue power in my life. For example, when my wife and I visited the Bishop Arts District in Dallas, we ate dinner and then browsed around looking for ice cream. Across the street from us lay a small ice cream store. The sign read, “Open till 9pm.” It was 8:55. “Let’s go” my wife said, tugging at my arm. I stood rigid—the little red hand told me it was not okay to walk. “But there’s no traffic coming,” she pointed out. No matter. Little red hand speaketh the truth. We waited. The light failed to change. “It’s broken,” my wife said. No, I thought. Little red hand does not lie. The traffic lights cycled through several times, and the little red hand still refused to change. Other people came and went. We waited. Must obey little red hand. You get the picture.

3.) Seeking Belonging.

As an insecure young man, I wanted to belong to something greater than myself. I wanted to feel part of a community of people who would love me well and serve as a buffer against the world. I found such a group in the tight-knit community of my small church. We were in, and everyone else in the world was out. God loved us and had special plans for us; everyone else was doomed.

We practiced love-bombing. Heard of it? It’s when members of a cult shower attention and affection on visitors or new members. It works beautifully especially when the visitor already feels lonely or out of place. Suddenly they feel welcomed—wanted!—and special. When I went to college, church members sent dozens of packages and letters to me. I received more mail than anyone else in the dorm. My heart glowed—finally I belonged.

4.) Low Self-Esteem.

One reason I stayed in the cult even though my brother left was because my pastor offered me cosmic significance. To a young man with rock-bottom self-esteem, this was the king of all carrots. Think of it: if I remained in my church, God would love me and give me an exalted place in his kingdom. If I left, I was damned. Put in these terms, I would be a fool to leave.

But there was a darker aspect. My low self-esteem also made me feel that I deserved the spiritual and verbal abuse inflicted by my pastor. Instead of setting healthy relational boundaries, I coiled into a co-dependent relationship with my pastor and let him run my life. When he criticized me, manipulated me, or shamed me, I agreed with him. I deserved much worse, I thought. How kind of my pastor to persevere with such a wretch as I. My low self-esteem made me susceptible to both claims to significance and abuse.

5.) Lack of Critical Thinking.

Cult members usually lack effective critical thinking skills. When my pastor stood behind the pulpit on Sunday mornings in his ironed shirts and matching suits, he looked the picture of serene self-confidence. And when he told me what the Greek and Hebrew words meant behind the English text of the Bible, I put my life in his hands. I continued to stay in my cult long after my brother left because I refused to call into question anything my pastor said. For me, if he said it, that sealed it. To this day, even years after leaving the cult, I tend to trust whatever a sales-person tells me. My wife sometimes has to step in to ask clarifying questions. My natural aversion to questioning authority figures creates quite a handicap.

6.) Performance Orientation.

What does a performance orientation look like? It looks like playing Capture the Flag in gym class in fifth grade. It looks like the Prince Memorial School in North Yarmouth, Maine—you can look it up if you’re ever in the area. Gray walls, cracked pavement, sand berms and pine trees behind the tether-ball poles. My gym class lined up along the softball field and the gym teacher appointed two captains. Both boys were my friends. But when they picked teams, I was picked last. Bummer. So I captured the other team’s flag. From zero to hero? Not quite. The second time, I was picked almost last. So I captured the flag again. This time, I was picked first. Even a fifth-grader learns what the benefits are to performance.

I remained in a cult because I longed to measure up through my own performance. Our pastor told us that if we tried hard enough, God would save us. I truly believed that if I just worked a little bit harder, God would pick me for his team. But of course, performance does not make a person valuable. People are valuable because they are made in the image of God. They are valuable because God says they are valuable. I still find this hard to accept, but I’m so grateful that God picked me for his team through sheer grace.

These six characteristics combined to make me a perfect cult member. God’s grace overruled to bring me out.

He saved someone like me.

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Eight Ways to Identify Religious Brainwashing: Demand for Perfection (Part 3 of 8)

This is the third in an eight-part series on how to identify brainwashing in a destructive group or cult. It is based off of Dr. Robert Jay Lifton’s “Eight-Point Model of Thought Reform” and borrows from several other authorities on the topic of religious mind-control.*

1.) Part One: Milieu Control
2.) Part Two: Mystical Manipulation
3.) Part Three: The Demand for Purity
4.) Part Four: The Cult of Confession
5.) Part Five: The “Sacred Science”
6.) Part Six: Loading the Language
7.) Part Seven: Doctrine Over Person
8.) Part Eight: The Dispensing of Existence

*Stephen Martin’s book, The Heresy of Mind Control, and Margaret Singer’s Cults in Our Midst.

The third element that destructive religious groups use to control their followers is the demand for an unreasonable level of purity. I say “unreasonable,” because the Bible does command followers of Christ to strive for holiness (1 Peter 1:15-16) and completeness (Matthew 5:48), yet cult leaders twist these scriptures to mean “perfection.”

How do they do it? They use five methods.

1.)    Shame and Guilt

First, cult leaders capitalize on universal feelings of shame and guilt. We are all born into the world as sinners. We all know intuitively that we fail to measure up.

I know that I do. I used to cringe when grade-school teachers called roll at the beginning of class—I dreaded the teacher calling out my name. It was as if the teacher held a red-velvet bag full of names, and when she called other kids’ names it was like pulling out flowers or bunnies, but when she called out my name it was like handling a sea cucumber or a snake. My own name filled me with shame.

The reason I hated my own name, I’ve come to see, is because I viewed myself as inferior. I felt like I was uglier, or stupider, or less competent than everybody else. When my former pastor told me that I could become worthwhile just by measuring up to certain standards of righteousness, it was like putting a T-bone steak in front of a Rottweiler. I spent years chasing that elusive meat while my pastor kept it dangling forever out of reach.

Shame and guilt serve as emotional levers which a group leader can pull to get a reaction of cowed obedience. For example, if a church member wants to go on vacation with their family, the group leader might say, “Well, I suppose you can go if you really feel you need that. I gave up vacations years ago when I decided to follow Christ whole-heartedly. God never goes on vacation, and Christ said that he is always at his work, even as God works every day (John 5:17).”

Do you hear the not-so-subtle manipulation? The follower has just been told that he or she is weak, uncommitted, and essentially sinful for wanting to spend time with family members away from the group. The issue here is not one of purity or sin, but rather of the group leader’s preference which has become a culturally enforced system of perfect attendance. But such reasoning creeps insidiously into a follower’s thinking, giving power and control to the group leader’s preferences.

2.)    The Razor Path of Purity

In many unhealthy groups, leaders set up a standard of extreme purity which they say God requires of true believers. In these systems, the narrow path of scripture is sharpened to a razor-edge. Followers teeter precariously on this razor path of purity, cutting their feet to ribbons as they try desperately to avoid falling into chasms of “sin.”

The problem with this system is that “sin” is defined so broadly that “good” becomes an almost impossible thing to attain. Indeed, cult leaders often teach that even a person’s natural desires are evil—love of ice cream, for example, or wanting to spend time with natural family—and that in order to follow God they must crucify such desires. The group leader constructs a polarized system of right and wrong, black and white, with no room for personal preference or natural inclination. People who subscribe to such a system make themselves susceptible to a leader’s manipulation and control, since it is the leader who interprets right or wrong.

We need look no further than the Pharisees in the New Testament to find such a rigorous system and what Jesus thought of it. While God gave the nation of Israel many laws in the Old Testament to set them apart as a people, the Pharisees considered these laws inadequate. Instead, they were so fearful of transgressing the laws of God that they set up “hedges” of additional man-made laws to keep from breaking God’s laws. From the outside, the Pharisees seemed incredibly holy because of their many religious devotions, but on the inside they were proud and fearful.

Jesus spends most of Matthew 23 rebuking the Pharisees for their legalistic, self-serving laws. He gets to the heart of the issue by showing that the Pharisees believed themselves better than other people and enjoyed gaining the praise of men (Matt 23:5-7). Instead, Jesus says, “The greatest among you shall be your servant… and whoever humbles himself shall be exalted.” And in Colossians 2:8-23, the Bible shows the difference between a rigid man-made system of religion and the gracious reality which is found in Christ.

3.)    High Commitment Zombies

Unhealthy religious groups often maintain control over their followers by keeping them exhausted through religious activities such as prayer, Bible study, mandatory fellowship, and long instructional times. While all of these areas can be good when kept in proper balance, they form a crushing burden when linked to salvation and legislated by men.

Such continuous activity serves two purposes: it keeps group members from spending time with people from outside of their group (see milieu control in part one of this series); and it cultivates altered brain patterns and a state of suggestibility through sheer exhaustion. Prisoners in various wars have testified how prison guards sometimes kept them awake for endless hours in attempts to brainwash them or break down their mental and emotional defenses. Cult leaders may not understand this technique officially, but they master it intuitively. Through exhausting activity, they take insecure people and turn them into highly-committed zombies.

For example, a cult leader might quote Hebrews 10:25 to require members to attend every function of the group. If followers miss a meeting, the group leader might question their commitment or even their salvation. Yet while the goals of the group may seem good (a questionable thesis), rest is also a necessary component of a productive life. God himself rested on the seventh day to set an example for all people (Gen 2:3). Group leaders who fill up most weeknights and the majority of the weekend with mandatory group activities have missed the whole concept of Sabbath rest.

In my former church, for example, we spent at least 7-9 hours each Sunday in church, with additional activities often scheduled on Saturdays or weeknights. In addition, our pastor gave us “homework” assignments and required us to listen to sermon tapes during the week. The result for me was an almost catatonic devotion to whatever my pastor said.

Jesus, for his part, recognized the importance of rest. When exhausted by ministry, Jesus took his disciples away with him to a quiet place to rest (Mk 6:31). Elsewhere, Jesus tells people who are exhausted and burdened to come to him for rest (Matt 11:28-30). Jesus’ light yoke contrasts markedly with the heavy burden of the Pharisees which they commanded people to bear. And what was this burden? It was none other than a works-based, man-made system of rules and regulations which kept people fearful and exhausted (cf. Lk 11:46; Mt 23:4).

4.)    Sins of Attitude and Immaturity

A fourth method of controlling followers is to catapult attitudinal sins and immaturities to the level of more grievous sins. Cult leaders often focus on followers’ attitudes and rebuke them for apparent “rebelliousness,” “pride,” or “unsubmissiveness.” But what do these words mean, anyway? In a cult, they mean whatever the cult leader wants them to mean.

For example, the leader of an unhealthy group might rebuke a member for asking too many questions, charging them with “intellectual pride.” Or a cult leader might order followers to give large portions of their income to their ministry, saying that they are “selfish” if they refuse. Or they might command women to submit to their husbands—but more especially, to the leader—in everything, no matter what. Such submission might even involve tolerating verbal, emotional, physical, or sexual abuse. If a woman speaks up against such behavior, she is labeled as “unsubmissive” and the group leader trots out numerous scriptures to rebuke her. God hates such twisted use of scripture.

In regard to immaturity, cults demand that people change now. Leaders of unhealthy groups often focus on normal immature behavior—not necessarily outright sins—and demand that followers exhibit maturity immediately. Yet what followers really need is the grace, space, and time to grow organically as the Spirit continues to refine them. As Stephen Martin says in The Heresy of Mind Control, “Grace allows for growth (Col. 2:18-19; Eph 2:19-22; 4:14-16; 2 Pet 3:18).” And in Romans 14 and 15 and 1 Corinthians 8, the Bible proclaims a rich theology of growth through personal decision-making in many disputable areas. But to the cult leader, nothing is disputable—everything is either wrong or right.

5.)    Human Works vs. God’s Grace

We can subsume all of the previous categories under the umbrella of a works-based system of righteousness. This can look very subtle, so catch this point carefully. While the group may proclaim orthodox theology from the pulpit—namely, that they believe salvation is by grace through faith in Christ Jesus (Eph 2:8-10)—in practice they actually believe that they have to work hard to attain their own salvation. They may deny this endlessly, but the proof is in the pudding—cult members live in a constant state of fear and look to the group leader to tell them whether they are saved.

By focusing so much on fruitfulness—and linking it with a person’s salvation—cult leaders can control a follower’s life. Such people disregard grace as they try harder and harder to measure up to the demands of the group leader. I know that I did. The pronouncements of the group leader become the measure of salvation, and followers live in a constant state of guilt and shame rather than in a secure place of God’s grace.

Do you see the problem? In this system, the cult leader takes on the role of mediator between God and people, since only he or she is allowed to proclaim someone saved based on their apparent fruitfulness. Fruitfulness—rather than grace—then becomes the means (not just the measure) of salvation, and so the cult practices works-based salvation rather than grace-based salvation.

Leaders of unhealthy groups demand perfection as proof of salvation, with themselves as arbiter. Is it any wonder that such a person can exercise almost complete control over their followers? Group members believe that their anointed leader holds the keys of eternal life and death.

The stakes could not be higher.

Related Post: One Who Got Away: Libby Phelps Alvarez, Religious Brainwashing, and the Westboro Baptist Church

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The Bay of Legalis: A Parable

The chaplain wore dark glasses. 

He jumped off the ship, his hands full of chains and the chains attached to caskets and in each casket a living human being—100 in all—men, women, and children. On every casket shone a crooked cross.

He jumped with a grin on his face and the sun shining and the scent of pine tar and sea salt tanging the air. He jumped with a Bible in his hand, shouting “Forsake the Evangelical! Follow me to heaven! God wills it! God wills it!” before plunging beneath the waves.

As he fell, the chains played out and slithered across the deck—clanking and banging—and then BOOM! the first casket tipped over the edge and KA-PLOOSHED beneath the surface, trailing a cloud of bubbles.

Caskets cascaded over the deck and down into the waves in a long daisy chain—like a gigantic rosary being told—and the people within them shouting for fear and for joy: “God wills it! God wills it!” Men and women, boys and girls, friends and families sealed together in their tombs.

The green ocean opened its maw to receive them and the sun shone and the gulls screamed as the H.M.S. Evangelical continued to ply its course eastward, flags flying and worship bands playing.

Against the rail a few swarthy sailors leaned with their muscled arms folded in that pose of peculiar disdain reserved for the self-deceived by the self-assured.

“God ‘elp ‘em,” said one, cupping his hands against the wind to light a cigarette.

“We’ve seen this sort o’ thing before,” said his mate, spitting over the rail. “Should we throw ‘em a line?”

“Naw,” said the first, his eyes suddenly drawn from the sea toward a pretty girl in a red dress running along the deck. “Let ‘em sink. This always happens when we pass by the Bay of Legalis. It exercises a kind o’ siren call to those that are tuned to hear it. Makes ‘em think that heaven itself is just beneath the surface—Can you believe it?—and the face o’ sweet Jesus beaming up at ‘em. Something to do with the bending o’ the light and the screwy glasses they wear.”

He took a long drag on his cigarette and leaned against the rail. “They don’t realize that Cap’n Jesus is steerin’ this boat,” he continued, “and they won’t listen to a word of warning—bite every hand that tries to feed ‘em, they will. Don’t trouble yourself about ‘em, Swabbie; they’s got to see it for themselves. Half o’ them caskets will blow open when the pressure gets too great and them folks lose their glasses. We’ll pick ‘em up in a group. A few others will struggle free the deeper it gets, and the rest are goners—no ‘ope for ‘em at all. They’ll go down to the grave whistling hymns and talkin’ to ‘Cap’n Jesus.’ Wait an’ see.”

He hocked hugely and spit a plug of yellow phlegm over the rail. “And that’s for the chaplain who’s leading ‘em all to hell in a hand basket. Crazy controllin’ schmuck he is.”

Turning away from the rail he whistled loudly at the approaching girl, “Come ‘ere sweetie! Give us a kiss, won’t you Gracie?”

The girl danced past him, grabbed a red life preserver from the spotless white deck, and threw it over the side.

Out on the ocean there was a sudden plume of foam—a wet gasp—and the broken body of a boy bobbed to the surface.

“Gracie, help me!” he sobbed. “Throw me a line! Sweet Jesus, save me—I can’t save myself!”

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We Swallowed Camels: Reflections of a Legalist

“There are no disputable matters,” my pastor said to the small group of men gathered for fellowship on a Saturday morning in the late 1990s. Mid-October maples flamed outside the church windows while Canada geese honked overhead. Leaf crumbs littered the floor.

I liked to sit on the side of the table where I could look out the windows. The cobalt sky and orange leaves seemed soothing and bright. God knew there was little enough comfort in the dim room. I smelled the mildew of old carpet and the tang of sweat seeping from beneath my collar. Our Men’s Fellowship met for three hours of instruction from my pastor every other week. There was no place to hide, and little room to think.

“The idea of a broad neutral area of amoral issues is evangelical fantasy,” my pastor said. “In this spiritual battle there is no demilitarized zone. There is only black and white; wrong and right. Every voice in your head is either from God or from Satan. So beware of mushy thinking.” We blinked and took notes.

This is new, I thought. It sounds kind of legalistic. I wondered momentarily about Romans 14 and 15 and 1 Corinthians 8, passages which speak of relating to other believers who are weak in their faith. Those passages seemed to embrace a rich theology of grayness. Aren’t disputable matters healthy? And why haven’t we ever discussed these core chapters before, or applied them to our church? We spend long enough in Exodus and Deuteronomy. I’d like to learn more what Paul means in 1 Corinthians.

My pastor gunned down my duckling thoughts before they took flight. “There is only wrong or right,” he said. “Satan wants you to think that you can do things that are amoral, but that makes you the god of those areas of your life. In reality, human beings are only responders, and all we can do is respond to thoughts insinuated into our minds by either God or Satan.”

He recognized our confusion and provided some helpful areas of application: “For example, what I do in the morning is ask God which pants I should wear, which color shirt, and so forth. I ask him to help me while I’m shaving. I inquire of the Lord before reading any book or going for a walk. Saints in history have spoken of ‘practicing the presence of God.’ God has a specific will for you in each and every situation in life, and your job is to be humbly obedient and responsive to that will. Anything less is sin.”

I looked up from my yellow steno pad long enough to open wide and swallow a hairy camel.

“Legalists are people who add personal preference to accepted doctrinal teaching, accept these additions as having equal weight with doctrinal teaching, and apply these additions in the judging of others.” – David Miller

“Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices—mint, dill and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy and faithfulness. You should have practiced the latter without neglecting the former. You blind guides! You strain out a gnat but swallow a camel.” – Matthew 23:23-24

Legalists fear shades of gray. I know that I did. I found security in certainty and staked my salvation on my ability to dance over eggshells.

In my former church, we mandated minutia and matters of personal preference. Saying that there was no nuance in life, we saw only black and white. Biblical tensions became a source of anxiety to us. Instead, we calculated and quantified—spilling ink until we thought we’d found the one true answer to every issue.

We found safe harbor in the shallow waters of our own minds. We fled the roiling sea of life with its boiling waves and incredible complexity. Instead, we made our own understanding a boat and stayed afloat by commanding the wind and the waves to cease.

Certainty seemed to give us control. If you can know—we thought—really know that you are right, you need never fear being wrong. Wrongness is bad—it is sin and shame and hell—we knew this full well. Mistakes seemed catastrophic. In the Bible, God sets two paths and two paths only before people: wrong and right, death and life. Every step we take brings us closer to heaven or hell.

Such thinking paralyzed us. We felt ourselves in desperate risk of displeasing God every second. This kept us searching for certainty in minutia with the result that we ceased to evangelize the lost or minister to the poor. I, for one, was so caught up in “rightness” and “oughtness” that I never took time to live out the gospel.   

The inevitable fruit of legalism for us was an attention to detail so regimented that it became debilitating. Perfectionism allows no idle strolling, no rose-smelling, no worship through Sabbath rest. Instead, we believed that life was in the details—and our ability to figure them out—rather than in the blood of Christ. Though we said that Christ’s death was sufficient to save us, in reality we believed that we must fill up by our own intense devotion to detail what was lacking in the merits of Christ.

Behind perfectionism lies fear, plain and simple. We feared everything. Fear of not meeting a certain standard; fear of displeasing people; fear of the unknown; fear of God. To live in perfectionism is to view life as a mint-colored ice-cream cone quickly melting, its base blown to bits and all the green rushing in a chaotic swirl down the sugar-cone shards and onto your cool, clean tuxedo. Legalists observe the chaos of life and spend every second trying to lick order back into their day.

If a church leader can teach or act this way, he or she can guarantee a flock riddled with anxiety and crushed beneath the weight of a million urgent details. Such a leader will major on the minors and minor on the majors. They will skew the worldview of their people until they begin to think that every little matter is equally important. This leads quickly to personal paralysis and an inability to make significant life decisions. It also creates an awful inter-linear commentary on God’s Word—adding the leader’s interpretation to Holy Writ and compelling his or her people to follow layers of instruction to avoid transgressing God’s supposed laws.

Folks schooled in legalism will confuse the temporal with the eternal and will believe that God himself relates to them with an attitude that can only be described as “nit-picking.” They will cultivate a worldview where the trivial and the inconsequential become the ultimate and the primary. Such off-balanced thinking ends up making people believe that God is always displeased with them. This causes them to turn away from God rather than toward him. Such beaten sheep focus obsessively on their own lives until they can think of nothing else but trying to measure up.

The telescope of perfectionism aims at the heavens but ends at the navel.

Like me, it strains out a gnat but swallows a camel.