Religious Trauma & Deconstruction: Why It’s Time for a More Compassionate Conversation

In recent years, the word deconstruction has become somewhat of a lightning rod in Christian spaces. For some, it evokes fear associated with backsliding, rebellion, or a rejection of truth. But for many others, especially those carrying the wounds of abuse within high-control churches, deconstruction isn’t a trend or a threat. It’s a lifeline. A way to heal. A necessary step toward reclaiming spiritual autonomy and personal integrity.

And yet, in many Christian communities, this process is quickly demonised. Questioning harmful beliefs is often equated with disobedience. Victims of religious trauma are told to “just forgive,” “trust leadership,” or “submit to spiritual covering” without space to process their pain, name their abusers, or challenge toxic theology.

This isn’t about throwing stones at the Church. It’s about making space. It's an invitation to understand why deconstruction is often born not from bitterness, but from betrayal. And how we can respond with safety, humility, and love.

It’s Not Just “Church Hurt”

Let’s start by clearing something up: religious trauma is not the same as being offended by a sermon or not liking the music style. When someone says they’ve experienced religious trauma, they’re often referring to:

• Spiritual abuse: being manipulated or controlled using the name of God, scripture, or religious authority.

• Emotional/Psychological abuse: being shamed, silenced, or gaslit for expressing doubt, grief, boundaries, or identity.

• Sexual abuse: being violated by trusted leaders or peers and then blamed, disbelieved, or disciplined for speaking out.
  

In high-control religious environments, these abuses are often embedded in the system itself, justified as “discipleship,” “submission,” or “dying to self.” Over time, people internalise these messages and come to believe that their suffering is their fault, or even God's will.

When victims begin to name the harm, they are often met with resistance, not just from leaders, but from friends and family who fear that questioning the system is the same as rejecting God.

The Harm of Demonising Deconstruction

When someone begins to deconstruct their beliefs, whether privately or publicly, it’s usually because something has become deeply misaligned. They’re not trying to rebel; they’re trying to survive.

To demonise that journey is to re-traumatise those who have already been harmed.

It says:

• You’re not safe to speak.

• Your pain isn’t valid.

• Your questions make us uncomfortable, so you must be the problem.
  

This can deepen isolation, intensify shame, and push people even further away from healing.

What Trauma-Informed Care Looks Like

If you are someone who still holds to your Christian faith, you can be a healing presence. You don’t have to agree with every conclusion someone comes to but you can choose curiosity over fear. You can reflect Christ not through control, but through compassion.

Here are some ways to love those navigating religious trauma and deconstruction: Listen without fixing Let them speak. Let them cry. Let them rage. Don’t rush in with Bible verses or solutions. Just be present.

Believe their story Even if it involves leaders or churches you once trusted. It’s not your job to defend the Church, it’s your job to protect the vulnerable.

Avoid spiritual bypassing Phrases like “God works all things for good” or “The Church is full of broken people” can feel dismissive. Instead, say things like, “What you went through was wrong. I’m so sorry.”

Do your own work Learn about religious trauma. Read books and listen to survivors. Don’t expect those who are healing to educate you at the cost of their energy.

Keep the door open Don’t pressure them to come back to church. Trust that God is not confined to a building or a program. Sometimes healing and spirituality won’t look like what you are expecting.

The Bigger Picture

Deconstruction is not a threat to the Gospel. In fact, it can be part of a deeper more authentic spiritual journey. It asks: Is this belief life-giving? Does it reflect love, truth, and freedom? Or does it perpetuate control, fear, and shame?

Jesus never shamed those who questioned. He welcomed them. He sat with them. He asked them what they wanted.

So maybe the real danger isn’t deconstruction. Maybe it’s a faith so fragile it can’t bear to be examined. Maybe it’s a Church that confuses loyalty with silence. Maybe it’s the demonisation of deconstruction that needs to be deconstructed.

If you’re reading this as someone who is still committed to your faith, you are needed. Not to win arguments but to be safe enough that someone who is healing doesn’t have to run and hide.

And if you’re someone who’s been told that your questions are dangerous, that your pain is a threat, or that your worth is tied to your compliance, I want you to know:

You are not a heretic.

You are a human.

And you deserve a faith that makes room for both truth and tenderness.

Let’s stop demonising the process. And start walking each other home to wholeness.

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Elise Heerde is a qualified trauma-informed counsellor and coach who helps people heal from religious trauma and high-control systems. With lived experience, professional training, and a passion for creating safe, judgment-free spaces with a splash of sarcasm. Elise blends authenticity and hope in all she offers. Co-founder of The Religious Trauma Collective (Australia/New Zealand). Author of Holy Hell: Saved So Hard I Needed Therapy https://www.eliseheerde.com/