When Faith Feels Like a Trap: Breaking Free from Fundamentalism’s Chains

I recently watched Kristian A Smith on The Faith Community's page talk about B. Simone. In it, he mentioned something about how fundamentalism does not allow you to think, and it got me thinking. (Now, this is my opinion based on my lived experience in a fundamentalist church which may be different from yours).

Fundamentalist Christianity. You know what it doesn't do? It doesn't make you think. Nope. It just hands you a bunch of rules and checklists like, "Here ya go, follow these steps and you'll unlock joy and peace!" And honestly, I get it. Most folks don't just stumble into religion for kicks—they're usually out here trying to make sense of life when it's straight-up falling apart. They've been drowning in chaos, and someone finally tosses them a lifeboat made of rules. And when you're tired of doing life on hard mode, who wouldn't cling to that?

Pero like, here's the twist: fundamentalism loves to tell you that you can't trust yourself. Like, "Hey, everything that's gone wrong? That's on you, boo." And by the time you're running on fumes—emotionally drained, spiritually empty, and just desperate for someone to take over—you hand over the keys to your life because you can't see any other way forward. You're exhausted and just need someone else to drive for a while. Makes sense, right? Until it doesn't.

See, the problem is that this approach only works as a short-term fix—kind of like putting a Band-Aid on a bullet wound.

What happens when you've been patched up and you no longer need someone hovering over you, telling you how to breathe?

What happens when the trauma is stabilized, and you're trying to figure out how to actually live?

What happens when you aren't given tools—things like therapy, mindfulness practices, and spaces to ask hard questions without fear? What happens when you are taught not to trust yourself again, or build authentic relationships, or create a life that feels grounded in freedom instead of fear?

I'll tell you what happens: more rules. More people who think they're your personal GPS, guiding you through every decision like you're still in crisis mode.

And because fundamentalism taught you not to trust yourself, you end up stuck in this circle of people who keep calling the shots. And leaving that circle? Oh, mi'ja, that's hard. Because you feel guilty for even thinking about it—I mean, they were there when you were at rock bottom, right?

But let's keep it real for a second. This is a fragile, vulnerable place to be in, and fundamentalism doesn't want to talk about trauma or mental health. Nope. It just heaps more shame on you.

Feeling broken? "Pray harder."

Can't find peace? "Must be your fault."

And when you're sitting there in the dark, desperately trying to find the light at the end of the tunnel, they come at you with, "Well, maybe if you were a better Christian..."

Excuse me?! Instead of throwing you a flashlight, they hit you with another checklist and act like that's love. They welcome you in with open arms when you're hurting, but when you don't heal on their timeline, they leave you holding a cross that's even heavier than the one you walked in with.

So, is this really "the Way?" Or is it time we start asking better questions? What if we started redefining faith as something that empowers instead of limits? What if we leaned into grace, curiosity, and courage to create spaces where healing is actually possible?

Maybe it's time to step out of the shadows and start reclaiming our light. Because I don't know about you, but I'm tired of pretending that shame and control are the same thing as love and healing.

#deconstructionist #queeringtheword #toxictheology #traumainformed #HealingTogether #woundstowisdom