Which Christians Can I Trust?
79: my core value of being a reliable friend is not a core value for many people that I lost in 2024
The Rise & Fall of a Different Hill
Listening to The Rise & Fall of Mars Hill Podcast has been very helpful during this time of feeling alone. The process I am going through (deconstruction of my faith) is one that I know factually is not a unique one, but— being the extrovert I am— I am not currently connected in the way I’d prefer to a group of people in the same life stage. I would prefer to heal from my church hurt (aka spiritual abuse) with the help of other deconstructing individuals, preferably in-person and not just in a Facebook group through comments.
I have had a real hard time getting to type my blog again, and not just because I’ve been too nauseous to focus on typing or looking at a small screen. I definitely feel like a lot was taken from me in the past year and I am dealing with the emotional fallout of that. And yet, with eyes on this blog and eyes on me, I am wondering where to place all of it and how to write about it in a way that is accurate to where I am.
But that’s almost impossible. I cycle through so many emotions in a day, but recently? Many of them have been incredibly angry. I am hurting passionately (passionately, like I do everything) and I guess I was struggling to share that, how to share that, and even if I should share it at all.
But over and over again, this blog has given me a voice when I feel like I am not given room to speak. It’s not an anonymous space, but it’s a space for me to speak my mind, which is something that many people in my former church community didn’t give me the time or dignity to share with them. Something I didn’t think the church would take away when I left was my relationships with those I once held dear. One could argue the church itself isn’t responsible, but I would argue they most certainly are.
“It wasn’t that they couldn’t see. It’s that they chose not to care.”
— a former church member, The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill Podcast
The church had a specific list of around 16 fundamentals for staff members to uphold and one of them stuck out to me in my final months: something claiming that church staff doesn’t gossip. I knew many church staff members— from manager to graphic designer to executive pastor— obviously didn’t follow this rule, but it mattered to leadership to enact it. Why? Well, if people talk about their experiences, good and bad, secrets get out. If it’s the goal for all pastors and leaders to be viewed as respectable, they do not want any story to come out that shows a different view, even if there are valid reasons for that view.
Leadership didn’t want their staff to share their negative experiences with each other and— if someone finally got up the courage to share their story— they discouraged staff members from engaging or listening. And, GOD FORBID, people shine a light on the cracks in the church’s foundation… The staff is encouraged to look down on the person who pointed out the problems, instead of working to address the problems themselves. And if that person was fired or is a former staff member in general, well, they’re just disgruntled employees, overreacting due to their lack of maturity and too-high expectations of the poor, imperfect leaders who are just trying their best.
“Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy
What about that?
And when you say I seem angry, I get more angry.”
What started as skepticism grew to shock as I experienced the pain of being labeled as one of those evil instigators and I heard terrible stories from former staff about their experiences with leadership silencing them as well. Those in leadership would rather push outspoken people out of the church than face the big issues that were brought up by those people, especially if those people are women (these stories range from sexism to covering up sexual harassment). When situations arise that the church fears will paint them in a bad light, teams of people with the inside knowledge and power to do so work quickly to get these gossipers off staff and out of the community whom they once shared mutual trust.
While the events of the situation unfold, executives take it upon themselves to share their modified version of the story, after possibly not even participating in the events of the tale they are telling. Gossip from the execs is apparently some sort of holier kind of gossip that is automatically accepted as truth. The way that the story is written and shared by an executive pastor is the undeniable reality of what happened, no matter what details are cut out or what victim-blaming and name-calling are added in. I have experience with this firsthand, feeling afraid and lied to when a pastor told me a twisted tale instead of showing humility and admitting their wrongs with the full story. And, even though I don’t think it takes a detective to see the malice in mean words from your executive pastor, people believe who they want to believe. They decide to dislike and distrust who their pastor tells them to dislike and distrust. It’s the united stance of church leadership against the single person in question. A man’s word against a woman’s. It was my word against his, which was automatically linked with all of theirs. I didn’t stand a chance.
“I just learned these people try and save you, ‘cause they hate you.
Too high a horse for a simple girl to rise above it.
They slammed the door on my whole world.
The one thing I wanted.”
And a real friend, someone who really cared about me, would want to hear my side of the story…. right?…
…right?!
New Fear Unlocked
It was impossible for me to be fired from my church and experience the loss of community that I have without questioning the entire system I once subscribed to. I put all my eggs in one basket, trusting the idea that this community— which was supposedly built on the foundation of unconditional love— would pull through for me. Even though I had feared being my real self for years, a very optimistic, trusting, and possibly naive part of me was hoping that my fears of rejection were from a paranoid, traumatized place. I wanted to trust the church. Not the building, nor the megachurch I attended, but the people I did life with.
Now, 9 months after my firing, only one friend has apologized and returned my messages— and this was only because they gave me the opportunity to be honest with them about my story. My story is not one that can be easily explained as it’s distinctly fucked up to me personally and includes the private stories of other people. I’m not sure there’s a way that any executive pastor could tell my story that lets me keep my humanity or my dignity, that doesn’t erase the details of the very real ways that they messed up while speeding along on their witch hunt.
“Outside observers will often ask why insiders don’t stand up to abusive leaders and bullies. And the answer is because abusers are never usually standing on their own.”
—Mike Cosper, narrator of The Rise & Fall of Mars Hill Podcast
So, I am left with some very real trust issues with those who called themselves Christians. Which Christians can I trust? Which ones follow the God I believe in? And which Christians idolize a Megachurch over members of their community? I would like to find a new community, but I’m scared to find myself in something similar to what broke me the first time. I’m scared to trust another group that follows the same book that was weaponized against me.
I’m in a tornado of questions that can feel insanely overwhelming at times, but I think I’ve realized I no longer have any timeline and am in no rush to figure things out. Now that I don’t feel pressure to be as holy as the ground I was standing on, I can go at my own pace and figure out what I truly believe. And, honestly, I have too much hurt to deal with to do much figuring out yet.
“And I don’t know
How to figure out where to go from here”
I Fear Losing Myself Again
I am doing mostly all good, apart from pregnancy nausea and anyone mentioning the Bible. It’s then— when I hear the sometimes loving words that mean men in authority claimed to follow— that I start coming undone. In therapy sessions now, I just sob. I sob for my younger self and the past 10 years at a church where she tried so hard to be a part of something she thought was good with a community that seemed to love her and accept her. But this was all at the cost of the freedom of being myself, at the cost of my imperfections and the things that make me unique and different. I sob now because I feel like I have been living a lie.
“The longer you live with a mask, the greater the void grows between the mask and the internal reality of who you are. That void becomes vacuous and empty and a hollow. Ultimately, you end up being loved for something you’re not rather than who you actually are.”
— former church member, The Rise & Fall of Mars Hill Podcast
This whole situation was a perfect storm for me. As someone who fears rejection and has continuously struggled against shame, joining a church felt as if I’d found a place to belong and rules to follow so that I would for sure be good. It seemed perfect until I realized I was perfectly trapped. I didn’t want to come across as an angry person or someone that people didn’t want to be around. This meant that I had to continuously uphold a certain outer appearance of cheerfulness and lean on my sensitivity to other people‘s social cues to make sure everyone around me was comfortable and having fun, even at the cost of my own comfort and good time.
When I expressed my struggles in small amounts to Christian people around me, I was made to feel as if I was doing a good job at being the hands and feet of God to other people. My suffering was a testament to my faith, according to them. My “sunny” disposition became less of who I was naturally and more of what people needed me to be. So much so that when The Enneagram grew in popularity, people gasped or shook their heads when I said I was an enneagram type 4. My mask was so thick that they couldn’t bring themselves to believe that I could actually be melancholy, dramatic, and sensitive. Those were negative traits and I, Gabby Derr, was a good girl.
Sitting at the very core of that good girl was a part that feared she wasn’t good at all. This part is a very young part of me who always felt like she was different. This part feels unsupported and unaccepted. And this part is the one that drives my passion to look out for those on the outskirts. It’s what brought me to new kids at school, what made me stand up to bullies, and what drew me to the gay rights movement. Ever since I became a Christian, I had to keep this passion under wraps. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be allowed or fully welcomed into the group that I was trying to stay in.
If I came out as an ally, which is all I thought I was at the time, I would be viewed through a negative lens. I would be seen as unwise, unbiblical, and, most obviously, not a good Christian. At many points over the last 2 years, since CCV released the sexuality series, all of these things stopped mattering more than what that core piece of myself had been communicating to me. I could no longer ignore or hide it as it came bursting out of me. If I hadn’t felt such a shame about how I felt for so many years, it probably wouldn’t have needed to explode out in the way that it did. But— things happened how they happened, and I could no longer live under the ever present pressure of shame I had placed upon myself. And I no longer wanted to be a part of a church that encouraged me to feel shameful.
“The deeply pervasive culture of shame, in some strange way, appealed to my giant burden of shame. If we’re gonna almost shame people with the gospel, use the message of the gospel to remind you how retched and terrible you are, but then hook you in with that in a way that didn’t necessarily free me from shame but fed that deep seated fear that I really was bad and really wasn’t enough.”
— former church member, The Rise & Fall of Mars Hill Podcast
All that being said, it is no coincidence that I have been feeling more connected with my body than I ever have. There was so much that I knew in my gut was wrong, but I ignored the obvious to fit in. I try to give myself grace, because of how I was told again and again to ignore my intuition and not trust myself. I was told my heart was evil and I was naturally wired to want to do bd things. I was told all these lies that I am now having to untether from my soul. It’s very painful to feel so deceived and used. It’s something that weekly therapy is aiding me in healing. But, currently, I feel like an open wound. I feel real and I feel vulnerable. I feel broken and yet I feel safe. I’m holding myself for the first time. I’m choosing myself for the first time. I’m thinking of the example I wanna set for my children.
One time, back in my teacher’s-pet-in-elementary-school days, I forgot my agenda for the first time on a day that we happened to have a substitute teacher. When I honestly admitted that I had forgotten my agenda, the substitute teacher suspected that she had been fooled and loudly accused me of being “one of those bad kids.” This was absolutely ridiculous to everyone within earshot. So much so that the students at my table and I burst out laughing. I want to always have that type of confidence in myself. So when someone accuses me of being something that I’m not, I would label it as ridiculous when it was indeed ridiculous. I want the confidence to laugh in the face of lies.
And that’s what I want for my own kids. I want my children to question authority. I want them to be their own leaders and to never stop asking questions. If someone makes them feel shame, I don’t want it to make them crumble like it did to me. When someone is mean to them or if someone talks down to them, I want it to set off alarm bells in their brain to question it, to resist it, to rise above it. But most of all, when my kids meet someone different, I want them to be curious.
I want them to believe the best and enter into situations confidently but with an open mind. That’s what I believed Jesus was like. If I do believe in Jesus, I want to believe in the Jesus I knew when I first became a Christian. I came across some amazing comics from an artist on Tumblr the other day, and I actually learned a lot about the historical accuracy of Jesus being depicted with a body that was not gender-conforming, being of a God that was meant to have no gender.
To view the comic in its entirety, which I would recommend (and it’s fairly short!), click here.
A Life I Can Live With
We just finished Season 7 of The Circle and we loved the cast this season! They’re right up there with the cast of Season 1 as our favorites. The common thread between the two is really the genuine connections that were formed between (most) cast members. For us, it’s a lot more fun to watch people genuinely connect than to just fight tooth and nail (virtually) for $100,000. It’s much more satisfying to see people make genuine connections and keep their word, but there are always people who are okay with stirring the pot and breaking their promises. But while some people lied and cheated to find a way to the finale, other players connected in lasting friendships and relationships. One couple that started dating on the show last season just got engaged!!
Maybe playing dirty can get you to the finale (it didn’t win the liar 100k though!), but it doesn’t have you leaving a one-time competition with connections that last a lifetime. In the finale, the liar didn’t win $100K and was embarrassed to be found out as the source of all drama from the season. In the end, everyone can do whatever they want, but you have to be able to walk away from any situation with ownership over your choices. If you’re not able to live with the decisions you make, they’re the wrong decisions to be making.
And even though things are really tough right now, I know we made the right decisions for us. I feel aligned with myself and morally balanced by my own definition. And that’s the definition that matters the most: my definition of how to live a life I can live with. I did my best with what I knew at the time. I have no regrets. I still think things happened how they were meant to.
I’m hoping I find a way to the God (or Goddess) of true unconditional love. But maybe I can just work on building love up for myself. If I learn to rely on and trust myself, I don’t think there will be as much to be afraid of.
“Made a list of everything
that I’ve been busy chasing
But if the train is meant for me,
it won’t leave the station
and pull away”
Weekly Subscriptions & Cancellations💁🏽♀️
the ideas and soundtracks I want running in my head, or not.
🙋🏽♀️SUBSCRIBED to:
Quakers Strawberry Oatmeal (but when have I not been? It’s my childhood comfort food.)
Season 7 of The Circle. FINALLY, a cast that is so real, likable, and hilarious (other than the liar who stayed on way too long). I have officially decided I am going to apply, actually. Shhh don’t tell anyone. ;)
The friends I have that reach out, ask how I’m doing, and make an effort to keep me in their lives, even when we don’t see each other all the time.
Resisting.
🤦🏽♀️UNSUBSCRIBED from:
Being in the car more often than I need to be. Even though my pregnancy nausea is getting better every day, I still have some waves that take me fully down. I cannot be more thankful that I am not throwing up, though. I seriously am so so thankful!
Churches that don’t have female pastors! We returned to Foothills Church today and it felt great to be in such a welcoming environment with people whose beliefs aligned more with mine— and to be at a church led by female pastors.
Settling for less than I deserve.
The idea of a male god. It honestly just makes me really uncomfortable right now.
🌻Show & Tell🌻
Processing my grief the only way I know how…
Time for some TLCCC💕
Treating myself to: Guilt-free rest. Zach has been the biggest support for me during this weird, dizzy time.
Listening to: my body. We have not been in touch lately, like maybe for the past 28 years.
Crafting: a budget RenFair outfit.
Craving: Costco fudge pops, ready-to-eat cookie dough, and Trader Joe’s strawberry vanilla yogurt.
Caring SO much about: the Kingdom Hearts 3 game Zach got me! I cried. It has honestly not helped with our Disneyland withdrawals…