Nobody plans for this moment to come—sitting on our bed upstairs, I called Amy into the room. Up to that point in time, everything I had touched in ministry over the past twelve years had essentially fallen apart, my ability as a husband and father to provide for our family was painfully lacking, and unexpected, critical health issues overwhelmed me with incapacitating, daily battles of insecurity, anxiety, and hopelessness. I was a complete mess—everything seemed to be crashing to the ground as I stood in those moments looking over the edge of my life. It was all so real, so terribly real.
Making her way up the stairs, she entered the doorway. “Amy, I need to talk to you. I want you to find a new husband and father for Harrison and Cailyn. I’m such a failure and your lives would be better without me—you deserve so much more.” Seeing a seriousness in my eyes like never before, with sheer terror in her face, Amy ran out of the room sobbing in tears. I had experienced periods of depression before, but these moments were of an entirely different realm of darkness. I was truly ready for it all to be over—desperately looking for the closest exit sign.
As a young boy, I nearly died of asthma two times, spending much of my elementary days in the hospital. No sooner did that fog begin to lift then the sexual abuse from a family member began. They say sixty percent of people enter the pastoral ministry to “save” one of their family members—if that’s true, it was my father. The very man who saved my life on one of those asthmatic occasions was ironically the same man who sowed deep seeds of condemnation, guilt, insecurity, and inadequacy into my heart. During one semester in middle school, I received a “C” on my report card. My father always said, “C’s just mean you’re average, and we Kratzers aren’t average.” I knew he was upset as he reacted in disgust. Seeing his harsh disappointment, I told my mother, “Dad doesn’t love me.” Insisting that he did, she coaxed me into the living room where my father sat rocking in a chair. She said to him, “Honey, Chris doesn’t think you love him, tell him that you do.” His response, “With grades like that, he’s no son of mine.”
Sadly, behind everyone’s eyes is a story that, if they told you, would break your heart. With a belly full of emotional baggage and gaping, puss-ladened wounds of shame, I entered into pastoral ministry. I wasn’t a conservative Evangelical at the start, but it didn’t take long for the tenets of conservative Christianity to be pimped my direction. Within a few puffs and injections of its seductive self-righteous creed, it became an instant drug of choice to numb the pains of inadequacy long been building in the caverns of my being. Never did there appear to be a better way to appease a conditional-loving father and heal the sins and shame of my youth than to embark on a spiritual climb designed to satisfy the ultimate conditional-loving Father—the god of conservative Evangelicalism who promised to rid me of my demons if I pressed in hard enough and learned to traverse the tightrope of faith. Salvation had finally come in an Evangelical deity offering me a spiritual track upon which I could race to right my wrongs, give value to my condemned life, and render myself lovable at the finish line. Just color within the lines, give the proper responses, think and believe the right things, fight the good fight of faith, and I too could become “successful” for Jesus. Perhaps then, both my father on earth and the Father above could finally love me—perhaps even then, I could finally love me. The ultimate trifecta of acceptance and approval was just an Evangelical “to do” list away, all leading to a position seated high above the world upon which to feel good about myself through the looking down upon others. It was all so righteous and perfect—so it seemed.
With a snappy new Jesus-step in my shoes, I eagerly surveyed the landscape of conservative Evangelical Christianity and its heroes. They all had obvious common denominators—big churches, big book deals, big speaking schedules, big conferences, big baptismal numbers, big budgets, big leadership philosophies, big vision, and even wives with big hair. Every sermon was finely crafted with spiritual formulas, principles, and steps that lead to the big life. Every service was meticulously programmed for ultimate appeal and emotion. The Bible was cut and dry, people were either in or out, sin was clear and easily defined, the truth was black or white, and either you had a place at the cool pastors lunch table or you didn’t. People on the outside were seen as a project to assimilate into the inside, and then to “grow” towards ultimately partnering in the pastor’s grandiose vision to “make fully devoted followers of Jesus Christ” AKA “my big ass ministry ego trip.” It was all so spiritual, and spiritually justified—”purpose driven” to the nines.
I swallowed it, all of it, hook, line, and sinker—my flesh never felt more alive. Job one, clean up my act. Job two, use a bit of smoke and mirrors while carefully pretending all the “to do steps” were working in order to keep people from seeing I couldn’t master job one. Job three, turn off my brain and heart as I learned to believe, say, and do all the right “Evangelical” things even if deep down they made little-to-no-sense, contradicted themselves, or left good people cold, hurting, and condemned. Job four, attain ministry “success” and fame at all costs, using people as a means to what is really a selfish end disguised as a noble mission. Job five, spiritualize it all so that people don’t see the hypocritical phony who’s faking-it to make-it and signing them up to do the same, wrapping it all up in shiny Jesus paper and calling it “faithfulness.” Job six, whatever it takes, convince yourself this is the way, truth, and life even when deep down inside, something is screaming that it’s not—quickly silencing and demonizing every voice that contradicts you. Job seven, if all else fails, program more worship fog, get a tattoo, and start sporting some Buckle brand skinny jeans—the rest will take care of itself.
I tried, I really did. I never worked so hard in all my life—just ask Amy, just ask the kids. I started waking up at 4 a.m. every Sunday morning to memorize my sermons, line for line, word for word—all for the maximum adoration of the congregation and the hopes of validating my life by becoming a superstar preacher. I began writing devotionals hoping they would get published. I read every ministry leadership book money could buy. I attended the best conferences, taking copious notes from which to implement the latest church fads guaranteed to grow your congregation and grant you the ministry of your dreams. I made myself available at any moment of any day for pastoral counseling or care. I studied the scriptures, applied ever prayer formula I could find to maximize my capacity to leverage God for His blessings and favor. We didn’t tithe just 10%, but 20%, often becoming the top givers in the churches we served whether we could afford to or not. I solicited accountability partners to speak truth into my life as a sure fire way to keep me on the straight and narrow. I distanced myself from all the right people and settings, just like I was prescribed. On Sundays, I was the first one at the church, and the last one to leave. Those rare moments when I wasn’t engaged in some kind of formal ministry, you can be sure I was thinking about it. We started churches on a wing and a prayer, barely having enough income to survive. We walked through devastating church splits, worship wars, members threatening my life, and countless conflicts whose marks will surely never go away. Years and years spent in a so-called, “Christian life” trying to convince God, the people around me, and myself that I am valuable, lovable, acceptable, significant—worthy of God, His favor, His blessings, and His heaven.
Don’t be fooled, insisting that “denial” is just a river in Egypt. Whether you’re in ministry or not, this is what you do—this is the hell you live and give, in some shape or form, when your faith concludes, “God loves you… BUT.” There can be no more hiding of the Wizard behind the curtain, this is the performance-driven, endless, restless, futile plight of your soul when the anchor of your faith clings to the diabolical slogan of conservative Evangelical Christianity, “God does His part, but you have to do yours… OR ELSE.” Find me a person who subscribes to conservative Evangelicalism and there you will have found a tragically deceived soul who is sleep-walking this same kind of daily, self-righteous, pretending, performance-driven hell while actually believing it’s heaven.
Look no further than my life for your proof, for there in that upstairs bedroom it all came tumbling down—none of the steps, formulas, principles, “to do lists,” worship choruses, bible studies, sin-management strategies, conferences, recommitments, fasting, prayer sessions, or spiritual disciplines ever worked, and all my pretending wasn’t camouflaging it anymore. The lipstick on the pig was wearing off—conservative Evangelical Christianity had done far more than merely waste my life, it had stolen every remnant of it I ever possessed and left me impotent to face its darkest moments.
All that time, years and years, I was suffocating when I thought I was breathing Life—thinking I was so close to Jesus, yet being so far away from His heart.
All that time, I thought I was helping people when in fact I was imprisoning them—declaring a mixed Evangelical gospel of conditional love that is in fact no Gospel at all. All, while sentencing countless God-adorned people to a fear-driven, empty life of sin-management, God-appeasement, and people-judging.
All that time, I thought I was being a faithful servant when in reality I had become a monster—a sexist, racist, homophobic, bigoted, ignorant, selfish, judgmental, legalistic, hypocritical, two-headed, and heart-divided monster. Without a flinch or a blink of an eye, I could heartlessly condemn people to a Dante-inspired hell of Evangelical imagination and poison their hungry, hurting hearts with guilt, shame, fear, and condemnation all while deceiving them to believe its source was no less than the throne of God.
All that time, I thought I was equipping people when in fact I was using them. Call it “vision,” “ministry dreams,” “reaching the world for Christ,” or whatever label helps you sleep at night—but the truth is, so much of modern Christianity has simply become the franchising of ministry egos.
All that time, I thought the Bible was a kind of convenient, inerrant weapon best used against the self-declared enemies of Jesus and for the defense of a truth that only conservative Evangelicalism possessed, when in fact, it’s actually a perfectly human set of writings best used to inspire all people to progressively encounter Him who is Love and defend His graciousness.
All that time, I thought I knew love and how to give it, when in truth, I knew nothing of it—receiving it, living it, sharing it. I thought loving people required doing so with careful restraint for fear you might extend too much grace and affirmation, or worst of all, catch their disease. Constantly pumping the breaks with people by restricting my love and qualifying His was indeed an unpleasant endeavor that never felt settled in my spirit. Yet, for so long I believed that was the full extent for which God loved me—all at a safe distance, riddled with fine print.
All that time, I thought I was being the picture perfect father and husband, but in reality, I was so consumed by a spiritual quest in which enough was never enough, that though I may have been there physically for my family, in so many other ways, I wasn’t there at all.
So much time wasted, relationships scorched, walls erected, people written off, unnecessary family tension and division created, opportunities missed, life that could have been enjoyed, unconditional love that could have been given, freedom that could have been embraced, lives that could have been set free by Grace, and all I had to show for it in that upstairs bedroom was the painful faith conclusion that I would never measure up, I was a failure, Jesus surely hated me, everything that mattered was slipping through my fingers, and the god of Evangelicalism was probably not only o.k. with it, but holy and just in allowing it, and perhaps even authoring it.
Hearing Amy downstairs crying in desperation pleading with me to change my mind, I fell to the ground on my knees—or perhaps, I was pushed.
In that moment, to which I still can’t put words, Grace awakened in me. As I closed my eyes sobbing on the floor, the real Jesus wrapped His arms around everything about me and refused to let go with divine relentless—a picture in my mind and an embrace of my entirety I’ll never forget.
You can be sure, the real God is nothing like conservative Evangelical Christianity—I know this to be True, He showed me.
Today, years later, I’m alive and truly living for the first time in my life and the future is bright with real hope and real joy. God is Love, Jesus is Grace, we are all the Beloved, and I am free to be fully me—free at last, free at last, thank God almighty, I am free at last.
So, I say to you who drink from the devil’s cauldron of conservative Evangelical Christianity—run, run as far and as fast as you can, don’t let it mix you into its brew. It’s a religious concoction of death—pure unbridled death.
It wasted much of my life, don’t let it waste anymore of yours.
Love your post. I understand your commitment to dismantling conservative evangelical Christianity but even in its low-level dimension of operation I know there are blessings that came from you within the process of being a pastor. Even in all the mess & darkness I believe your journey through that is meaningful & a part of your purpose to be a trailblazer in leading others out of it. 🙂
Well said Chris, thank you for reading between the lines and understanding my heart and journey!
What you wrote here is so much my story too, but unlike you I never realized it at all, but deceived myself into thinking this was the only way. Even after narrowly escaping a nervous breakdown by literally running out the door of the church building where I was working and never going back wasn’t enough to wake me up. I ended up in another church doing the same things again with more ardour than ever to try to live up to the standard. I’m beginning to see all that now in hind site, but I never had the revelation you had in your moment of breaking down. Mine has been a slow realization and painful awakening. Thank you so much, Chris, for expressing so clearly and boldly the truth of this.
Jem, the journey of Grace is unique for all of us, and I am so honored to share in this path with you and for your generous encouragement along the way!
Powerful words Chris. They fully describe my escape from fundamentalism as well. As I neared the end of my fundamentalist faith walk, I was at the point of praying to die every day. I used to hold my breath and try to will my heart to stop beating, so that what was really suicide would appear to be a natural death. After all, what kind of testimony would suicide have been regarding this great God I professed.
I am so thankful that God did not answer my prayers. Much like you Chris, I believe the Holy Spirit brought me to the end of myself. Ten years in a loveless marriage, all the while struggling with my sexual orientation, I finally had no where else to go, and nothing left to give. Only then did I begin to realize what it truly means to be “Free in Christ.”
Thank you for sharing your story Chris.
Elyse, I am so touched by your story and the courage of heart for you to share it hear! Thank you so much for taking the time to read and comment on this article!
Thanks for being vulnerable and authentic. Your words rang true for me as well. It’s only in Christ that we will be free – not within all of the other “religious” things that are calling us to serve them.
Please know that your words are being shared everyday to more and more people, so although being published by Huffington Post or the New York Times may not happen, those who need to read your words will have that opportunity. And to that, I would say, “Well done, thy good and faithful servant!”
thank you for your encouraging words Sue, and for your continued friendship. So grateful for you!
Thank you for sharing your heart. I would love to hear part 2 and how your thinking continued after your grace awakening. How did you leave? Did you leave all your ‘stuck in evangelical Christianity’ friends behind? Was this a slow process or immediate? I live in the two worlds of Christianity and have been for a couple of decades. It is not always easy to navigate and sometimes causes confusion. But i have seen changes in people and I get to share grace to friends who are bogged down. I am curious to hear as Paul Harvey would say “the rest of the story.”
Well, I hope you’re truly closer to Jesus, where we all need/want to be. But your broad-brush of “conservative Evangelical Christianity” is, bluntly, unfair. I know so many who would be in that category but they aren’t at all like you describe. Had you chosen to make your claims more fine-grained, and less of a shotgun blast at fellow believers, then you might have been on to something. But to declare many of your brothers and sisters in Christ “the devil’s cauldron” makes you seem much more like those you condemn than what they actually are. Let me describe the “conservative Evangelical Christianity” I, and many of others like me, try to embrace: we have community with each other, we help each other, we share Jesus with others, we care for people who don’t know Jesus, we worship, we fail, we live with each others’ faults/failings/strengths/joys. And yes, I’ve been in church leadership and experienced mistreatment, etc from people whose faith should have kept them from doing so. But you know what – part and parcel of being in the Body of Christ – I have to deal with others’ shortcomings, etc just like they have to deal with mine.
All that said – your pain and experience are real and I’m not going to diminish their reality. I am sorry you experienced so much negativity but I guarantee you, it’s not unique to “conservative Evangelical Christianity” – it happens everywhere, even in faithful Christian bodies, because we are human and yes, we are sinners. Which is why we’re called to love and be patient with each other.
Thanks “a brother of Christ’ for your thoughtful comments. I have a few questions of you and the community of “conservative Evangelical Christianity” of which you wrote and are a part. What percentage of that community to which you refer believes 1) homosexuality is sin 2) transgenders are deviants of God’s binary order 3) everyone who doesn’t accept Jesus as their personal Lord and savior will spend eternity in hell 4) women cannot be elders, pastors, or perhaps even teach in authority over a man 5) the husband is the head over the wife and thus takes a submissive role different than that of the husband. 6) one can lose their salvation 7) sanctification is a process by which a believer learns to overcome sin in their life and pursue moral and spiritual purity. 8) true repentance involves a change of behavior not just of heart or mind. Please answer each of these with a percentage #. Thank you.
Of course you realize I have no idea of what percentage believes each of those positions. What seems odd to me is that those 8 positions you lay out are not antithetical to what I mentioned in my initial comments about being a loving, supportive community. For example, the majority of us probably do believe homosexual behavior is a sin (the Bible is pretty clear on that, don’t you think?). But we don’t do so in some pious, “we’re better” manner – we recognize we’re all sinners. It’s just that it’s not love to tell people their sin is “okay” – it’s love to come along side them as equals, committed to helping each other be true to Jesus. And that includes correcting them and equally being open to correction.
And on issues that are less clear (for example, one can lose their salvation – which I believe is possible, as one can at any time reject Jesus and the salvation He and He alone offers, even after previously claiming Jesus as Lord), it’s not a make-or-break issue (as it appears to be with you) – we accept our fallibility in understanding God’s word and, in most cases I’ve experienced, agree to disagree.
My single question in response – don’t you think it’s possible to hold all 8 of those positions, be a conservative evangelical Christian, and be a valid representation of a follower of Jesus to others? If not, please explain (maybe use each of your 8 stated items) and explain why holding that position would necessarily be counter to what Jesus calls us to?
Perhaps to you they are not antithetical, but to countless others outside of your “community” they certainly are, especially when the scriptures aren’t as clear as you have determined them to be. Have you ever studied the issue of homosexuality from the viewpoint of Jesus-loving, truth seeking Biblical scholars who come to an entirely different conclusion? How about having done the same with issues like hell or salvation?
No, I don’t believe holding those positions is in sync to the heart and mind of Jesus, and many of them, complete the opposite. I point you to this article and the many others on this site to explain why.
Hi, Chris. I have to take exception with your here. I think the Brother in Christ is right: The Bible is clearly anti-homosexual, cover to cover. That’s because the men who wrote it hated homosexuals. Nobody knows what God thinks of homosexuality. The scholars you mention may be “Jesus-loving” and “truth seeking” as you say — although I think that’s beside the point; all fundamentalists love Jesus and seek the truth — but they’re wrong. Their interpretations are tortured. For example, “abomination” doesn’t mean “taboo.” It means it’s something that turns God’s stomach. Once again, I’m not saying that’s what God thinks. I’m saying no one knows what God thinks. I think that if religion is going to survive it’s going to have to ditch the entire concept of special revelation. God just doesn’t talk to humans — at least not reliably and clearly. The terrorists who flew the planes into the buildings that they had received a specific revelation from God. Once again, God’s keeping His opinions to Himself
Hi, Chris. Like the post. However, once again, I really recommend you read Zealot by Reza Aslan. You say the “real Jesus,” who is all about grace, touched you, but I think you’re basing your picture of who Jesus was/is from the New Testament, which is not reliable. (I’d go farther. Your picture of Jesus as warm and fuzzy is built on conservative Evangelical dogma.) As you’ll see if you read Aslan’s book, it’s much more likely that Jesus preached Torah observance. Paul invented salvation by faith through grace. Jesus, on the other hand, was all about obedience. Said differently, Jesus was a hard ass when it came to following the details of the law. He even said the law doesn’t go far enough. He said that if a man lusts after a woman he might as well have slept with her. That’s a pretty lofty standard–unrealistic, I think. I don’t know about you, but I’m ALWAYS lusting after women.
Ten years ago, after struggling against it for 20 years (age 18 to 38), I finally broke with conservative evangelical Christianity for good. I didn’t renounce my faith, just the all the crap that the mega-church cult thinks needs to go with it.
I have tears in my eyes. Not only was I a miserable human being as a bible-believing Christian, but out of anger and disappointment I plunged into Anti-Christ mode, spitting in the face of the God whom I could never please or understand, fulfilling the prophecy of doom inherent within my depraved “faith.” After years of rage and alienation, I am only beginning to entertain the idea that perhaps Christ doesn’t require of me some Bill Gothard-esque program of deprivation disguised as holiness. Maybe Jesus wants me to live a life of love for others and to achieve my potential, whatever that is. I’m not there yet. Sometimes, I want to be able to walk away from God entirely and just be a decent person, not a cookie-cutter Fundy or a cartoon-character lost sinner. Perhaps Grace in my case still reverberates in my unaccountable attraction for the ritual of communion, where the words “Here is my blood shed for you” inevitably move me deeply. At any rate, the experience of rigid discomfort and cognitive dissonance you describe, I fully understand. Thank you.
Andy, what a powerful comment and sharing of your journey. Honored to walk this walk with you! Thank you for reading and sharing your heart, I am blessed because you did so. Thank you.
Thank so much for your openness. You are describing my experience. I tried hard. Conformed. Went through bible college. I hated what I was becoming. I felt that evangelical conservative Christianity was sucking life out of my soul. When I came to my senses, I was so depressed that I thought of committing suicide.
I’m getting help. I’m married and my husband is a Christian. I find church too traumatizing and painful. Sometimes I don’t even know if I can recover. Sometimes Gods grace seems too good to be true. I’m recovering slowly but I feel so dead inside that I feel like a walking zombie. I hope I experience grace the way you did. But I’m scared to in some ways because it seems to be a huge burden to be countercultural to both the church culture and the world. I hope I get the strength and courage to live as a true nonconformist and live in true freedom
Lydia, so grateful to connect with you. You are not alone, the experiences you have had and are having are not unlike my own and countless others. There are many groups on fb that are supportive. “I’m Not That Kind Of Christian” is one of them I would recommend. To belief and stand against the Christian empire is not always easy, but it is worth it. Let’s be friends, stay connected, and be brave together! If we aren’t already connected on fb, let’s do so.
Evangelicalism and fundamentalism disfigure the soul.
What you (and others here) are describing as conservative evangelical Christianity is not the conservative evangelical Christianity that I know. I don’t know what it is you’ve left, but it was monstrous.