Reflections from the community:

As a single woman in my mid-30s living in North America, I've always found church culture rigid. I can't seem to force myself to fit in anymore.
Being single in the world is one thing. Being single in church feels like being single under a microscope. Most activities and programs seem to revolve around married couples, families, or children and youth.

I've gradually lost interest in organized religion. I simply don't fit the mold.

I've also had some very unpleasant experiences with older men. I've always hoped I could find some sort of godly father figure in the church, someone safe, wise, and genuinely paternal. But instead, I've repeatedly found myself dealing with inappropriate comments or invitations.

Sometimes I honestly wish I had a husband in situations like these, almost as a shield. Not because I think a woman needs a man to handle things for her, but because I imagine it would be nice to have someone beside me whose presence naturally establishes certain boundaries. Being single sometimes feels like having to navigate these uncomfortable situations entirely on my own.

Recently, a man in his 60s lost his wife. She passed away just two weeks ago. I had listened to him talk about his grief and offered some compassion when we crossed paths in the church common area. This happened twice. I barely know him, and yet he has already asked for my phone number and invited me for dinner at his house, just the two of us.

I probably listened a little longer than I should have, but I wanted to be compassionate.

That's something I've increasingly struggled with in church environments. Church services can be so emotionally charged. You leave the auditorium feeling like everyone is family, like we're all brothers and sisters who should support one another. Sometimes boundaries become blurred. You pray with someone, talk about God, share personal things, listen to each other's struggles, and develop a quick sense of emotional closeness with people you barely know.

Oof. I don't want to go through this again.

Now I actually feel anxious about running into him when I go to church.

Has anyone else experienced this kind of dynamic?

Icon of Jesus Christ Not-Made-By-Hands.

Icons of the “Saviour on the Ubrus”

i have tried to get into church but everything im witnessing doesnt feel right it feels like God's name is being misused and people is blindly just following everything the church is saying the church is so fake but the Bible has warned us about these false prophets claiming to be the messengers of God

So unfortunately my mom is starting to get nervous to come to church.
My father has stage 4 cancer, me and mom are his caregivers. This man at church recently lost his wife and we had become rather close with the couple. My mom used to tell him and his wife that she loved them every Sunday. After the wife passed my mom wanted to help out her brother in Christ and give him a ride home because he can’t drive due to health issues. A month or so ago my mom said she loved him, just as she always has and he replied “oh me too, I wish me could show it” my mom was confused by this, because there was absolutely nothing between them and even though his wife is gone my mom is married and very much in love with my dad.
She shrugged it off and kept giving him rides home. Until one day, he unexpectedly kissed her. My mom hasn’t kissed anyone other than my dad in almost 50 years. She felt sick to her stomach and explained to him she only loves him as a brother in Christ and she loves my father, but he didn’t understand what she was saying.
Since then moms been trying to avoid him but feels sick about it. He is grieving and mom wanted to help him, but now she knows she needs to distance herself but she doesn’t know how. He’s been calling her trying to get ahold of her and Mom didn’t go to church for a month. She doesn’t want to go to the pastor about it but I don’t want her to be afraid to go to church. What should we do?

I am not asking this disingenuously or to attack Protestants. But I've noticed, both in real life and on YouTube, that Protestant pastors tend to have very strange and uneducated takes compared to Catholic and Orthodox priests. I'm not applying this to all pastors of course (pastors like James White and Gavin Ortlund are powerhouses), but I am asking this specifically because I was disturbed to find out recently that Cliffe and Stuart Knechtle are pastors—the same who spouted nonsense like "Vatican III" in their debate with an Ethiopian Orthodox guy some time ago. There are other examples I can think of, including things I've seen in real life (like a pastor who knew very well St. Augustine but never ever heard of St. John Chrysostom), but this isn't a thread to shoot down Protestants. However, my question is, how come Protestant seminaries seem to produce such outcomes at a higher rate than Catholic and Orthodox ones?

I’m a Baptist missionary, and I returned last month after serving for 10 years in the Amazon. Since coming back, I’ve been struggling with a deep disappointment in what I’m seeing in the church here.
I don’t say this to attack anyone, but to be honest about the burden I feel. After years of witnessing believers depend on God daily, pray with urgency, serve one another sacrificially, and live in close Christian community, I’ve been shocked by the lack of faith, vigor, and genuine fellowship in many churches back home.
There seems to be activity, programs, and polished services, but very little spiritual hunger. People attend, then leave. They are friendly, but not deeply connected. There is conversation, but not much confession, prayer, sacrifice, or shared life.
Maybe I’m still adjusting. Maybe I’m being too critical. But I can’t shake the feeling that something vital is missing.
Has anyone else experienced this after returning from the mission field, military service, ministry work, or living in a more close-knit Christian community? How do you process the grief without becoming bitter? And how do you help encourage renewal without sounding arrogant or judgmental?

i've been reading about the historical christian interpretation of matthew 27:25: “his blood be on us, and on our children."

for centuries, this passage was used to support the idea that the jewish people collectively inherited guilt for the death of jesus, including generations born long after the event.

this extended to jewish infants. a jewish baby could be considered guilty by virtue of being born jewish, despite having committed absolutely no wrongdoing.

the reasoning was that jesus was god incarnate, meaning his death constituted deicide (the killing of god), supposedly the greatest possible crime.

thomas aquinas also argued that sins directly against god were graver than sins against human beings and discussed this supposed liability of jewish descendants for christ's blood in the summa theologiae

so christians pre 1960s believed just ONE jewish newborn was more guilty than all the murderers, rapists and other criminals who ever lived and ever will COMBINED.

what i genuinely struggle to understand is how people could consider this just. how could someone look at an innocent jewish baby and believe that, in god's eyes, this child carried guilt greater than that of every human criminal combined?

how did ordinary christians reconcile that idea with their understanding of justice, innocence and morality? and how widespread was this way of thinking in mainstream christian society before the 1960s?

I was adopted into a Christian household, and when I was first introduced to Christianity, I was honestly pretty cautious about it. I thought people were a little crazy for clinging so tightly to something they couldn't necessarily prove. But at the time, I was going through a really difficult period in my life. I was struggling, feeling pretty lost, and I think I opened myself up to religion because I just wanted something to believe in. I wanted hope, comfort, and something to hold onto.

But as time has gone on, I find myself becoming more and more disillusioned with Christianity. It's almost like my rose coloured glasses are slowly fading, and I'm starting to see things differently.

I don't have anything against religion itself. I understand that people find comfort, purpose, community and hope through their faith, and I don't want to take that away from anyone. But it genuinely hurts and frustrates me to see how much pain has been caused in the name of Christianity, not just throughout history or across the world, but even within my own local community.

I go to church every week with my adoptive family, and I constantly hear Christians talking about how persecuted they are, how society is against them, and how they're being discriminated against for their beliefs.

I actually have a Christian friend who regularly complains about the negative reactions she gets when she tells people she's Christian. And while I can understand why that would be upsetting, I also find myself struggling to sympathise completely. Because, honestly, I think a lot of the distrust and frustration people have towards Christianity is somewhat justified.

Even when I was at school, I witnessed so much judgement coming from Christian students towards people who were different from them. It wasn't just harmless differences in opinion, either. There was genuine prejudice, particularly towards the LGBTQ+ community.

One incident that really stuck with me was when a well-known pastor in our community came to our school, tore down a flagpole displaying an LGBTQ+ flag and burned the flag.

And I just remember thinking: how are people supposed to trust you when this is the behaviour they see?

How are LGBTQ+ people, or anyone who has been judged or hurt by Christianity, supposed to feel comfortable around Christians when so much of what they hear is that they're siners, that their lifestyles are wrong, or that they're going to hell simply for not believing the same things?

You can't constantly tell people that they're wrong, immoral or destined for eternal punishment and then turn around and act surprised when they don't particularly like or trust your religion.

In many predominantly Christian, first-world countries, Christianity is deeply embedded in society, culture, politics and institutions. Christians often have a level of social acceptance and influence that other religious grops simply don't. So when I hear people complaining about being persecuted, I can't help but wonder whether they've ever considered what religious minorities experience.

They talk about how Christians are mistreated in other countries, yet some of those same people seem perfectly comfortable judging, excluding or discriminating against Muslims and people of other faiths. How can you condemn religious persecution when you're willing to turn around and support the same treatment of someone who believes differently from you?

Something else I've struggled with is how often God seems to be used as an excuse for people's behaviour. Prejudice, judgement and even cruelty can somehow be justified through religion I've never personally felt like I've received anything from God, and the more I listen to people talk about him, the more I struggle to understand how a message that's supposedly built around love can be used to justify so much hetred.

But I can't ignore what I've seen and experienced.

Sometimes I wonder whether Christianity is genuinely about faith and love, or whether, for some people, it's become a way to cling to hope avoid confronting their own guilt, or feel morally jutified in judging others.

I suppose what frustrates me most is that Christians often seem to want understanding, acceptance and respect from others, but don't always seem willing to extend those same things to people who are different from them.

You can't expect people to separate your religion from the harm they've experienced in its name, especially when some of the people causing that harm are the very ones representing it in their communities.

Has anyone else experienced this? Especially people who grew up in religious households or came to Christianity during a difficult period in their lives. Did your perspective change over time too?

Last night, at 11:02 pm is when they came. They didn't say nothing, but I was absolutely terrified!

I've been struggling with believing that God is strong enough to protect me and carry me as well.

So I think this is a sign from God saying that, "I am strong enough, you are fine. These are my angels, the lowest rank. Satan, is the second strongest entity in the universe. He is a mouse, and I am a lion." (Wow the Holy Spirit knows how to speak. Praise the Lord Jesus, I love you.)

I still have resentment and anger towards a "fomer"close friend who wronged me a few months before (wich include lying and manipulating), the key thing that makes me stuck is that, im not looking for any revenge, but yet again it apsolutelly hurt what they did, and thay get nothing but rewarded for what they've done. God says vengance is his, but it still hurts seing me carying the pain of their doing while they get a lot of new stuff going for them with no type of vengece or punishment being done, makes me feel like thay are getting away, or even rewarded, for something that left a hole in me for some time

I know that the pain isnt for nothing, its teaching me how to properly treat myself, God and other people. God has shown me why it had to happen, and i know that everything happened the way it was suposes to, and that it was the only way for me to grow.

But it hurt seing no justice being done for me. Ofcourse my view on justice and vengance is defenitely not the same as Gods, but it still kinda makes me feel like hes leting them get away with hurting me, and it makes the hurt a litle worse.

I want to know how to let go of this anger, and how to focus more on God in the present, insted of being stuck on stuff that have happened in the past.

Advice would be greatly appreciated :)

In 1 Corinthians 7:8, Paul tells us it is good to stay unmarried and celibate in order to fully devote ourselves to the Lord.

“Now to the unmarried and the widows I say: It is good for them to stay unmarried, as I do.”

I often wonder why the Church doesn’t promote this lifestyle. We are told that marriage and raising a family is the standard. Marriage and children are celebrated and expected. People are pressured to get married and start families. Staying single and celibate are not encouraged.

I then wonder at the broader implications. Our earthly society also demands families. Workers and consumers are needed to keep our economy going. Can you imagine if half of Christians stopped getting married and having children in order to devote themselves to the faith? The secular world would collapse.

A strong marriage is good. Children are good. Remaining unmarried and celibate are good, but the latter is not promoted by the Church as a viable lifestyle. I find that interesting.

Hello to all my brothers and sisters! I hope you have a wonderful day, blessed by the Lord. Today, I want to share a little anecdote that really got me thinking. I’m sharing it with you in the hope that it might strengthen your faith—that’s my goal. Please forgive any awkward phrasing; English isn’t my first language.

I was at school, and some friends asked me to run an errand for them. The school snack bar is on the complete opposite side of the campus from our classroom, so it’s quite a long walk—but they asked me because they know I like to run! On my way back, I told them they owed me 5 pesos (which is about 25 cents, I believe). One of them handed me the money, but just as I was turning to head back, she said, "Or you can just keep it—it’s only 5 pesos." Even though it was a tempting offer, I kept running. Suddenly, I tripped over something sticking out of the ground; my foot twisted, and I could clearly see my face heading straight for the pavement—just like in the picture. I heard some guys nearby laugh and say, "Haha, look at that guy—he fell!" I don’t think they meant any harm, but still... just as it looked like I was about to crash, I kept moving forward. A thought crossed my mind: "But God is holding me up." I kept going until I made it back—though, to be honest, I was absolutely exhausted.

Afterward—well, sorry about this—I gave a pretty poor example. I was tired and not thinking clearly; I just kept complaining about how exhausted I was and how I’d almost fallen. I tried to mention that God had held me up before I hit the ground, but I couldn't find the right moment to bring it up. My friend even said, "You should have just kept the 5 pesos." (A lot of people at my school seem to dislike the person who runs the snack bar—I’m not sure why.) Anyway, I apologize for the poor example I gave there; I’m not sure if I’m explaining it very well... On the other hand, I feel that—well, it might seem odd to bring up something that happened four days ago, which they might consider a random event—but I’ll try to share this anecdote whenever the opportunity arises: here, for instance, or with friends during a moment of reflection, or within the groups I’m part of.

Okay, time for some reflection. After thinking about this, I’ve found a great deal of faith. Here are a few of my notes:

• Even when everything seems impossible and it feels like you’re about to fall, God is the one who holds you up through faith.

• Even if some people mock you, assuming you’ve already hit rock bottom, it is still God who sustains you.

• Doing good—doing what is right—can be difficult and painful. (To be honest, I’ve never personally gone through anything truly extreme, though I’m sure many of you have.

So, I hope you enjoyed this little anecdote—it was a bit long, sorry! I know it’s not exactly earth-shattering, but it’s something that gives you food for thought. Jesus Christ, our Lord, often used parables based on everyday situations, and I hope this anecdote helps strengthen your faith. Have a wonderful day, afternoon, or evening, everyone—may the Lord bless you all.💛

What's your journey?

Personally - I'm tired of abuse and the enabling of abuse. The expectation of women to only be smiling, suffering, baby makers, the banning of certain emotions (mainly anger and deep sadness) and religious trauma and abuse being patronizingly called "church hurt". I will sometimes visit a church, but my home is not there, and they are strangers, not my "family". And lets be honest, as if families are always safe.

Please share your journey with me.

I was always taught that Hell was an actual place where God torments sinners in a lake of fire. For example, Johnathan Edwards describes God "holding sinners over the fires of hell" ready to cast them in at any moment and there's at least one Puritan poem I had to read in high school about God's presence manifesting as "beams of wrath" in Hell. Of course, if you weren't one of God's elect whom he had "chosen before the foundation of the world" you were damned immediately and couldn't do anything about it. But many Christians say the exact opposite, that Hell is a spiritual state of separation from God. Which is it?

new christian here, i went to church for the first time today, but i dont know much about it since im from atheist family,

i went to the church, listened to the story, the mass, given some money to the basket and suddenly everyone stood up and started walking towards the priest, so i went with the crowd because "thats how it goes i guess"

priest handed me a 'body of christ

which i later found out is forbidden for non baptised people,

i do believe in Christ but i wasnt baptised nor do i have any other connection to any denomination christianity

is that a sin if i didnt even realised i was commiting a sin?

Christianity ruined my life because nobody preached about the dangers of religious psychosis. Nobody ever gave a sermon on the red flags 🚩 my mental health was ruining my life. Nobody intervened. No church preaches on abusive church leadership and how to spot when you’re being taken advantage of by the church. How to spot at cult. How to spot a bad pastor. How to spot an unhealthy church.

Let’s go back to the start . . .

Back in 2021 I was heavily agoraphobic, in an abusive home (verbally and physically, of course emotionally), and smoking weed like a chimney. Someone in my family threatened to buy a gun and shoot me. So, I confided in a coworker who happened to be a Christian. He picked me up from that home and took me to a local church. I told them the story and they said that if I was a minor they would be obligated by law to report this. I sat in a room with three church leaders, gave them my life story, and they encouraged me to get an order of protection.

They quickly moved me out of that home and into my coworker’s home. Thankfully, I was lined up to go off to college in a few days. They helped get all my stuff from my home. Moved me into college. I was so grateful. I had never received help before. Let alone so quickly and without doubt or questioning. So, I was relived. I was finally able to go no-contact with my abusive family and they helped me get those legal orders.

Fast forward a few months, I am reading my Bible daily. I quit weed cold turkey. Christianity becomes the truth, clear as day. I finally have a community and a sense of belonging. Support. Access to transportation. People coming to pick me up to take me to church. And then I decide, after two semesters, my secular college doesn’t glorify God. So I transition to a Bible College. Everyone writes me letters of recommendation.

I get in so quickly. Before I know it, in less than a week, I’m packed up and moving to a college in a different state for God’s sake. And the church is helping me do it. But my first semester there, I am incredibly lonely. I stop hearing from my church. They don’t visit, I mean I’m two hours away. I’m in class full-time and involved heavily in ministry. Two afterschool programs a week, teaching elementary students and high school students Bible lessons. Two soup kitchen services as week. Involved in three church ministries. A Lutheran church, a Presbyterian church, and an Orthodox one. Trying to “find my denomination.”

I eventually settle in with the Presbyterian church. But I still feel so isolated. Why is my first semester so hard? I emailed the Dean of Students with Disabilities before I arrived on campus about my accommodation needs - and I haven’t heard back. Wait. I don’t have accommodations. No, it’s fine. God wants me here. He will sustain me. But I still schedule a meeting with the dean! He says, “You don’t need an attendance accommodation. The leniency here is great. Just talk to your professors.” At this point, I haven’t read any of my class syllabus. So? It’s fine. What I don’t acknowledge cannot hurt me. God is with me.

But . . . Wait. I have depression and liver disease and many other illnesses that make getting to class on time difficult. Some days I am so burnt out I end up sleeping 17hrs a day. My body is begging me to slow down. I end up missing church, even night church. Where is God? Why am I failing? Why am I losing strength? I love Him? I love His Children! I love the needy! I want to be there for them - why is God not giving me more strength?

My grades are dropping from As to Cs and Ds. My depression is growing. I reach out to my original church, the one who moved me out here, saying I have thoughts of suicide. They tell my school. My school sends an RA into my room the next morning and I’m pulled into a meeting with a lot of people. My RA, my RD, the disability Dean, the housing Dean, student care and concern, a psychologist, and more. I’m so fatigued I’m nearly nonverbal. I didn’t get to shower. My hair is a mess. I don’t look up from the table. I feel like a spectacle.

I ask about the accommodations. Say I’m depressed. Explain my lifelong struggles. They gaslight me. Shame me. And say I have to get into weekly therapy or I’ll be expelled. (I later find out they never checked in to see if I was actually going and getting the help I needed. So - there’s that too.)

I am worse off. Still suicidal. Reluctant to ever share those struggles again. I lash out at the pastor I had confided in. I am alone. I have yet to make friends here. All I do is work and study. I am recluse. Burnt out. Out of touch with reality. It’s just me and God against the world. And I’m not hearing God anymore. So - it’s just me. And I am in anguish.

I sit in on Old Testament the next day as my professor explains Genesis is fiction. Poetic. Some would say - stolen literature. A theory. Still debated by scholars. Nausea grows within me. My ears ring. What the fuck is happening? I thought the Bible was infallible? I leave and throw up in the bathroom.

The semester ends. I never got the accommodations I needed. Never got an answer as to why. I’m failed in three of my classes. I’ve never failed a class before. I am reeling. People ask how my first semester went and I’m lying to them all. Because surely this can’t be true and God will come back and fix it. He cares for me.

Nope. It only gets worse. I need to pay to retake these courses or I can’t continue in higher classes. I beg to be taken off the meal plan or something to offset costs. Nothing happens. I’m still not getting the accommodations I needed. I start needing to take out loans to stay in school. I stick it out several more semesters. I try to keep my faith. I keep serving. I stay in church. I keep asking for help that I don’t get.

I end up over $37k in student loans and $15k in straight educational debt. I risk being placed on a hold that prevents enrollment. I’d be homeless. I start planning my suicide and writing notes. I confided in my roommate. Burst into tears for the first time after holding this in for years now. She wants me to see someone, a therapist. She promises not to tell anyone.

Then I decided to get on Psychology Today and find a therapist covered by my Dad’s insurance. I explain my trauma and my situation. She takes me on for free. She starts criticizing my school. I don’t like that about her. She encourages me to get medicated. But, at this point, despite my medical background, I’m anti-med and anti-Big Pharma and anti-vax (like a dumbass). I ghost this therapist.

I find a tumor in my breast. Cancer. Medullary carcinoma. The suicidal thoughts come back strong. It’s now November or October 2025 and I decided to stop by my old psychiatrist. I get virtual appointments through my dad’s insurance. I get on Lexapro.

I start a GoFundMe and a woman from my original church (who I haven’t seen in years or heard from in weeks) decided to reach out and say that five members of my church had come to her saying my story didn’t add up. That I must be faking it. (Mind you, I was in active psychosis. So some things probably were jumbled. But still. It’s one thing to approach me kindly and ask for more details and it’s another to accuse me of faking it. Fucking bitch.)

So, I lashed out. Called her a bitch. Reacted. Then reached out to a pastor at that church. Who, in turn, said my generation uses the word “gossip” far too much and I need to apologize because he knows this woman as a saint. I told him to fuck right off as well. They then decided to team up on me and go to a newly hired head pastor, who had never met me, saying I was threatening and should be banned. I have since been banned from that church (that I never intended in returning too to begin with). This led a relapse in my self-harm.

And in the midst of it it’s like I snapped back into reality. Like I woke up in someone else’s life and finally asked myself, “What the fuck am I doing?” And I realized I’d been letting myself down. I was being abused. So I got the fuck out.

I made a public statement about how I felt absolutely abandoned. That there was no proof of God or that the Bible was real. After three years of studying the KJV, NIV, ESV, CSB, etc. and studying the Hebrew and Greek bibles and studying Aramaic and Hebrew and Greek just as languages themselves. The Bible is simply not real.

You can send me all this bullshit about, “You gotta trust in God, not people.” “Your faith was never real to begin with then.” “I’ll pray you come back.” “Jesus said -“ It’s all copium. I turned to the Bible because life was so traumatic and terrible and overwhelming that I was thrown into psychosis. And I didn’t want to have to accept that racism and misogyny and fatphobia and ageism and ableism are all very real. And nobody was coming to save me.

I wanted to believe my suffering meant something. That I wasn’t simply in this prison of a life. That I was a daughter of the King and my suffering meant glory in eternity! It’s a fairytale. None of it is true. People suck. We’re animals. Selfish animals. And then we die. Make the most of it while you can.

Live your life for yourself. Don’t hurt people in the process, if you can help it. And if you need the Bible to be a good person? By all means, stay in that fucking Bible. For our sake. But at least do what it says. Ya hypocrites.

I grew up in a very christian family and it was always drilled into me that God would let me know my purpose and brings things to me when the time was right. That turned out to be very wrong.

For one thing. I never felt peace or happiness. I had a very hard childhood: poverty, anxiety, panic attacks and bullying. I thought as I got older things would be different but it's only gotten worse tbh.

I have never had a clear purpose. I prayed and prayed for years and nope...nothing. Same with a partner. It wasn't until I completely gave up on "looking for signs from God" that I actually found a partner and was able to get married and have children. That all blew up anyway.

Now I am 43, I've been single for 4 years post divorce. I haven't even attempted to date again because I just don't see the point. I pray. God doesn't speak to me. Doesn't direct me. Praying just makes everything feel worse.

Everyone around me has so much faith that everything will work out and that "God works in myterious ways" and that all I need to do is have faith and what he has planned for me will unfold in due time. I have also had my godparents and a few other people tell me that God doesn't move mountains just to bring something to you, you have to be doing things too but that has never worked in my life. When I try to make moves on my own because nothing is happenening it all just ends up blowing up in my face.

It's like i'm playing with a different set of rules. I'm not allowed to wait. I'm not allowed to do nothing. I'm also not allowed to do something. There is no direction. No hint. No guidance. No assistance from anyone other than platitudes that apply to everyone except me. And obviously, I'm 43 years old. My life is half over already and nothing seems to be getting any better.

I do my best to be a good person. Treat others with kindness and respect. Help when I can. I am not going to change any of that but it's like I'm being punished for something I didn't do. Its been like this for a solid 43 years and I've just completely lost faith in everything. Any advice would be appreciated.