It began during a discussion with my spiritual advisor. I was expressing some difficulties in my family relationships, hoping for some insightful guidance. However, spiritual direction differs from therapy, and thankfully so. The only word he could offer was “betrayal.”

That single word felt like a heavy burden, resonating deeply within me, even if I couldn't fully comprehend its significance. While my instinct was to logically analyze whether a betrayal had occurred, the feeling was already present. Despite my efforts to dismiss it, I had to confront it directly and engage with it.

The initial step toward healing is recognizing the ailment.

Betrayal represents a profound emotional violation. This term typically applies to severe breaches of trust within close relationships. Whether it involves infidelity, a close friend disclosing secrets, or a family member abandoning someone in need, betrayal does not occur in casual associations. Trust—either implicit or explicit—must exist for betrayal to take place. After all, one cannot feel a breach of trust from someone deemed untrustworthy from the start.

Moreover, betrayal often implies malicious intent or a conscious desire to inflict harm. The unfaithful spouse understands that their actions will erode the trust within a marriage. The friend realizes that their betrayal could jeopardize the relationship entirely. Yet, the most painful aspect is that the betrayer proceeds with their actions regardless.

In this discussion, I will focus on the first aspect rather than the second. I argue that betrayal can transpire even when the betrayer is oblivious to the suffering their actions may cause. I would further assert that the original intentions can be noble and pure. Nonetheless, the end result remains the same: a commitment is broken, causing significant psychological distress to the wronged party.

Can one betray while believing they are serving God?

Weeks passed since that initial conversation with my spiritual director, and the word "betrayal" continued to echo within me, simmering like a dish in a slow cooker. Initially, I was uncertain where this reflection would lead, what final realization I might reach. During this period, I became attuned to specific triggers.

The deception was the erroneous belief that one must interpret the Bible literally or face eternal damnation after death. This, in essence, is what feels like betrayal now.

Recently, I recognized that certain phrases from Christian culture and specific Bible verses elicited feelings of dread within me. While listening to Spotify, worship songs would play, causing my heart to constrict. These phrases weren't particular but could include sentiments like “your blessing is forthcoming,” “He bore our sins,” or “God is in control.” There was no clear pattern, only familiar phrases frequently repeated during my upbringing.

My internal inquiry revolved around the who, what, and how of betrayal. The “who” began to crystallize, revealing the intersection of the personal and the religious: I felt betrayed by my parents and all the spiritual leaders I had trusted throughout my life. Both of my parents have been involved in ministry, though I have not always been part of their congregation. After marrying, we relocated, and during that time, I became involved with various faith communities. As a passionate reader and someone trained in theology, this also included those whose writings I had studied and reflected upon for much of my life. It wasn't just one individual but an entire evangelical tradition of past and present mentors.

Not only did I feel betrayed, but I also became an active participant in perpetuating that betrayal. Although I never held a formal ministry position, I had assumed leadership roles and contributed to the evangelical movement in various ways. I, too, was part of the issue. There is a sense that I betrayed myself along the way.

What exactly was the betrayal? This question may seem straightforward, yet it is not. When one trains themselves for a lifetime to overlook a pressing issue, recognizing it clearly requires intentional practice and conversations with others who can help illuminate what you might be missing. The betrayal involves the realization that the very foundation of the faith I was taught was built on a falsehood. That falsehood was the misguided assumption that one must interpret the Bible literally or face eternal torment after death. This realization encapsulates what feels like betrayal now.

At first glance, this misconception may not appear as a grievous offense warranting the label of betrayal. However, a minor deviation in direction over time can lead to a significant divergence between the intended path and the actual trajectory. Over the last century, this misconception has proliferated, resulting in numerous downstream consequences that have turned toxic for sincere faith. The depth of betrayal becomes evident in the "how."

The insistence on a strict literal interpretation of the Bible has fostered a profound denial of reality. In essence, the idolization of a purely biblical perspective has led to the rejection, ignorance, or minimization of any contrary evidence. A literal interpretation of the Bible became a cause to defend against perceived secular threats. Consequently, rather than viewing new knowledge as an opportunity to deepen understanding of God’s revelation, the gatekeepers of evangelical thought prematurely categorized it as a threat. When one is on the defensive, true learning becomes elusive. Instead, they devise increasingly intricate strategies to validate their initial stance. The most significant casualty in this process has been the truth itself.

To illustrate how this damaging cycle evolved, consider a specific example. While there are numerous options—such as blind allegiance to unbiblical trickle-down economics, the dehumanization of LGBTQ+ individuals, the myth of a Christian nation, or the acceptance of conspiracy theories—let's examine a less contentious yet equally harmful topic: evangelical resistance to science, particularly the reluctance to engage with the 19th-century theory of evolution. Yes, it has been nearly 200 years, and the world has moved forward, but this remains a contentious issue among evangelicals.

To clarify, it is not merely the theory of evolution that is contested but the insistence that a literal interpretation of a 6-day creation and a 6,000-year-old universe must be upheld, lest Christianity be deemed a farce. Adhering to this stance has compelled many evangelicals to engage in a vast degree of denial as evidence for an older universe continues to mount. While not everyone subscribes to this stringent belief, a significant portion of the faithful does. I certainly did until my mid-30s, to my shame.

Allow me to introduce you to my 1996 self. Having recently relocated to the United States and navigating the challenges of adolescence, being a devout evangelical Christian was central to my identity. I drove a 1990 Honda Accord adorned with a bumper sticker proclaiming “She is a Child, Not a Choice,” clearly indicating my stance in the cultural battle. I was actively involved in my church’s youth group and participated in my parents' ministry. While some families engaged in sports or visited national parks, my family was dedicated to the church, and I took pride in it, though I wouldn't have articulated it that way back then.

I wasn't completely sheltered from outside influences. On weekdays, I attended an International School that introduced me to a broader world beyond evangelical confines. There, I met individuals from diverse countries and various religious backgrounds. Aside from my bumper sticker activism, I generally kept my beliefs discreet. While I secretly hoped that my classmates and teachers would one day embrace the "truth," I mostly blended into that cosmopolitan environment.

I’m unsure how I discovered it, but I learned that Answers in Genesis (AIG) was in the process of constructing a Creation Museum. Additionally, I received a letter appealing for support, stating that AIG’s plans were threatened by some vocal atheists (likely one of the three residing in Kentucky) and that zoning approvals were in jeopardy. The letter urged us, loyal supporters, to gather signatures in favor of the museum. This prompted me to share the initiative within my school community.

The assistant principal, possibly cringing internally, graciously permitted me to make an announcement during our daily assembly. Despite some science teachers expressing skepticism regarding the entire project, the overall response was supportive, and I managed to collect 25 signatures to send to AIG, proudly adding this achievement to my evangelical activism record.

AIG is not the only organization in this arena, but it is the most successful in promoting the pseudoscience of Young Earth Creationism (YEC). They not only succeeded in constructing a museum but also, in 2017, expanded their portfolio to include a life-size Noah's Ark attraction, which draws nearly a million visitors annually.

The Ark Encounter represents merely the surface of a burgeoning industry that evangelicals have developed to deter the faithful from straying from fundamental beliefs. This industry encompasses universities, Bible colleges, homeschooling materials, films (like God is Not Dead), podcasts, and various institutes. Denial requires substantial energy and funding, all of which this movement possesses in abundance. No expense is too great when eternal destinies are at stake.

What happens to individuals raised in communities that regard YEC as divinely mandated when they confront evidence and personal research that reveals its falsehood? What if they discover alternative approaches to these questions? What if they come to realize that much of what is propagated in Creationist science is merely conjecture and wishful thinking?

The transition from denial to reality does not occur overnight; it unfolds gradually. However, it’s unsurprising that upon completing this transition, individuals often experience profound disappointment and anger. Leaders who were meant to protect them from harm and guide them toward the truth turned out to be the loudest advocates of this falsehood. Consequently, it’s no wonder that an entire genre of media has emerged for exvangelicals, serving as an outlet to process their pain through comedy, critique, cynicism, and frustration.

Unfortunately, pseudoscience is not the sole casualty of the false dichotomy of Biblical literalism. This discussion could easily extend to the toxicity of purity culture, abuses stemming from unchecked authority, the gaslighting of courageous individuals who dare to challenge denial, and the projection of fears onto perceived cultural enemies. Addressing the depth of denial intricately woven into the evangelical segment of Christianity would require several books.

This conflict with science has fostered a pervasive anti-intellectual sentiment that unjustly questions the validity of academic research. This mistrust is particularly evident in the realm of social sciences and, most critically, psychology. Within the evangelical worldview, there exists a belief that the entire Western scientific endeavor went awry following the 19th century. Knowledge is often deemed "worldly" and can only be accepted as long as it does not contradict a biblical verse.

This is where things become perilous. Overzealous yet intellectually complacent Christian leaders weaponized superficial interpretations of the Bible and launched attacks on entire academic disciplines with fervor. The toll has been mounting for years. For instance, this mindset has perpetuated the stigma surrounding mental health among many evangelicals. For decades, depression was perceived as a sign of weakness and spiritual laziness rather than a legitimate brain disorder. Up until recently, many evangelicals clung to the Catholic belief that suicide constituted a mortal sin, implying that those who committed suicide were doomed to hell.

The betrayal experienced by exvangelicals is genuine and thoroughly documented. In summary, it began with an excessive (some might even say idolatrous) commitment to uphold and defend a literal interpretation of the Bible. Over time, this commitment necessitated numerous compromises, leading to persistent denial, frequent blame-shifting, and occasional gaslighting to uphold a particular worldview. Inevitably, when a generation raised under this regime recognized it for what it truly was, the betrayal became clear.

In response, many individuals, including myself, have sought different avenues to process, comprehend, and hopefully heal from this pain. As we journey toward healing, the first step is identifying the root of the betrayal and labeling the issue accurately. While this does not erase the impact of the betrayal, it can help us pinpoint the source. Otherwise, like those before us, we may resort to denial, deflection, and projection to cope with unresolved pain, potentially perpetuating the insidious cycle of betrayal.

Is betrayal the ultimate destination? Thankfully, that is not the case. The loss of trust can serve as an invitation to cultivate a deeper spirituality. For those willing to respond to this call, it can lead to a new level of understanding, compassion, and, above all, love toward others. This is certainly my aspiration on this journey, and it is what I hope to explore in my next essay.