17. 🪦 Faith with a Side of Fcked-Up*

The Lord is my shepherd,
but the pastor was my predator.
So tell me again—who’s leading the flock?

This isn’t a hit piece on religion.
It’s a survival story with scars still bleeding.
Not because I hate the church.
But because I believed in it—
and it believed in him.

🙏 The Sacred Was Weaponized

He didn’t need to raise his voice.
He had a Bible.
And that was enough.

Enough to shame.
To gaslight.
To touch what should’ve been protected.

He wore God like a costume.
Quoted grace while cornering girls.
Preached purity from a pulpit he polluted.

And they told me to forgive.
To stay quiet.
To “trust that God sees everything.”

Well—He better.
Because I was there too.

🧠 Psychological Insight:

• Spiritual abuse isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s a whisper in a prayer room.
  
• Religious trauma rewires your entire nervous system. You learn to associate God with guilt. Silence with safety. Scripture with fear.
  
• Forgiveness becomes a leash when demanded too soon. Especially by those who protected the abuser more than the abused.
  

🩸 What I Couldn’t Say Until Now

I didn’t leave the church because I lost my faith.
I left because I couldn’t survive under the weight
of a God who only spoke through men
who never asked what happened to me.

They said I was bitter.
Said I was rebellious.
Said I was turning my back on God.

No.
I was walking away from a system that blessed wolves
and told the sheep to sing louder
while they bled.

💔 For the Silenced Survivors

This is for:

• The ones who were told “don’t ruin his reputation”
  
• The ones who were prayed over but never protected
  
• The ones who were taught submission before self-worth
  
• The ones who still flinch at hymns and hollow apologies
  
• The ones who were told to stay
  because “this is where healing happens”—
  but healing never came
  

✝️ This Is My Reclamation

I still believe in something divine.
But He’s not hiding in that building anymore.
Not under the stained glass.
Not behind the polished podium.
Not in the voice of a man who said, “Let me guide you,”
and led me into silence.

💬 Final Reflection:

I didn’t walk out because I didn’t believe.
I walked out because belief should never be built on fear,
and God shouldn’t need middlemen
with dirty hands and microphones.

🧨 Closing Hook:

If God’s still watching…
I hope He sees me now.
Louder.
Freer.
And no longer afraid to call holiness what it is—
and expose what it isn’t.