God’s Will or Spiritual Manipulation? A Personal Story From a Religious Trauma Therapist
When I was in my mid 20s (and still very much in high control religion), I worked as a program staffer at a Christian retreat center in northern Wisconsin. Nestled in an area of pristine lakes and remote wilderness, the retreat center aimed to help church and youth groups connect with God. My job, along with about 10 other program staffers, involved designing weekend or week-long programs, hosting retreats, and ensuring that guests left spiritually refreshed.
On the surface it was an idyllic community where shared beliefs and a unified purpose created a sense of a tight-knit community, even a second family. There are parts of my time there that I still cherish. But beneath the surface were dynamics of high control religion and fear-based theology that I would later realize negatively shaped much of my development.
The memory of one particular incident during my time there came to mind this week, and I thought I would share it with you here in case you can relate.
The Truck:
The retreat center owned a fleet of vehicles for operational use - cars to drive into town to run errands, old trucks to drive around the property (it was 900 acres), 15-passenger vans for group transport, and even some tractors for more heavy duty tasks. One day a new vehicle was purchased for the fleet - a big brand new black extra cab pickup truck with a suspension lift and off-roading tires.
Why a Christian retreat center needed such a vehicle remains unclear, given that most of the vehicles got pretty beat up with the manual labor and harsh weather conditions (though I did overhear one of the directors say he felt his testosterone increase by 50% when he drove it). Regardless, I was smitten with the truck. If you have seen the old movie “A Christmas Story” and know the scene where Ralphie first spots the Red Ryder air rifle in the department store window, that is likely how you would have seen me react when this new truck first arrived.
It was sleek. It was powerful. And I wanted something like it.
(Should this have been clue #529 about my lesbian/queer identity? Maybe, but that’s a debate for another time…)
(And, for the record, and for inquiring minds - no, this is not the type of vehicle that I swoon over now 😉)
Every time I saw the truck pull into the retreat center, I felt a spark of longing to have a similarly outfitted black truck of my own. At the time, I probably would have labeled my desire as selfish or materialistic, and that it went against the values I had been taught in my faith community:
Don’t covet possessions.
Caring about image is vain and wrong.
Spending money on unnecessary things is selfish.
Looking back now, I realize that what I felt wasn’t sinful…
…it was just a morally neutral desire.
Fast forward about a year, and one day word got out that the retreat center was planning to sell the truck. I was ecstatic. My car was getting older, and I had started saving for a replacement. The idea of buying this truck - a vehicle I loved - seemed like the perfect solution for everyone. I could get the car of my dreams used for a lower price than buying it new, and the retreat center could avoid the annoying task of having to find a buyer in a remote area for a used vehicle. In the back of my mind I was worried other staff members would think I was being vain or selfish because I wanted to buy the truck, but I decided to be brave. I casually stated to one of the directors that I was in the market for a used vehicle and would be interested in buying the truck if the price was right. The director seemed surprised, but was also open to having a conversation about it later that week.
The Accident and “God’s Will”:
A few days later, however, the truck was involved in a serious accident. Another employee was driving it when they lost control on the snow-packed roads, and the truck was totaled. The employee ended up in the hospital with injuries. Thankfully they recovered, but it wasn’t long after that that the director I had spoken with about the truck pulled me aside to have a chat.
“Seems like you asked for something that was outside of God’s will for you,” the director said.
“Huh?” I nervously replied, unsure what he meant but sensing I had somehow done something wrong in his mind.
“You expressed interest in buying the truck,” he replied, “and then it was totaled. You asked for something that God didn’t want you to have, so he took it away. You should listen better to God next time you want something - otherwise he might have to take action again.”
I stared back in stunned silence, unsure of how to respond. His suggestion that my “disobedience” had in some way caused the accident was too much for my brain to process, and I froze. Not only was the accident being framed as a direct consequence of my seemingly unrelated actions, but it was also implied that my “defiance” of God’s will had caused a traumatic event, destroyed property, and landed someone in the hospital. WTAF.
In the moment I did not respond, because I was too shocked to argue. After a few awkward moments of staring at each other in silence, the director turned around and walked away, leaving me feeling confused and ashamed. Had my innocent desire to have a cool looking truck somehow set off a chain of events that led to someone else getting hurt in a car accident? Was my “desire” truly outside of God’s will, and was I selfish and disobedient for having wants?
The Impact of Spiritual Manipulation:
For weeks, I replayed the conversation in my mind. On one hand, I knew that what he said couldn’t possibly be true. God was a God of love. On the other hand, I had been conditioned to believe that I was inherently sinful and bad, and that sometimes God punishes disobedience in mysterious ways. I prayed to be able to more clearly hear God’s voice, and to more closely follow his will. I wanted reassurance that I wasn’t a bad person, but instead of finding peace, I just felt unnerved, alone, and like any desire I had for anything had the potential to cause harm.
Looking back on it now, I know that what he suggested was absurd. But I also know that it highlighted the spiritual manipulation of the high control religious environment I was in. What stands out to me is how this incident wasn’t about concern for whether or not I was obeying God or seeking his will at all. It was about control. That director was not offering me spiritual guidance or mentorship - he was enforcing a system where submission was the requirement for belonging and fear was the tool to get people to comply.
High control religious environments often use spiritual language to manipulate. In my case, the idea of “God’s will” was used not as a way to comfort or provide direction, but as a way to instill guilt and maintain authority. The suggestion that even practical decisions (like what car I wanted to buy) could be spiritually dangerous and have catastrophic consequences left me feeling small and incapable.
This kind of theology is obviously very problematic, but one of my biggest beefs with it is that it when things go wrong, as they sometimes/often do, it teaches you to blame yourself (because of your inherent sinfulness) instead of questioning the system.
Reclaiming My Identity:
It took years of therapy and faith deconstruction to untangle the harmful theology I absorbed in high control religion. While I’m still on that journey, here are a few truths that I have come to embrace as I continue to heal:
1. Desire isn’t wrong.
Wanting something - whether a new car, a career change, a new opportunity, or a different path in life - isn’t bad or selfish. Desire is a part of being human. When we allow ourselves to listen to what we need and want, it provides valuable data for us to create a life that feels authentic and full.
2. People are not inherently bad.
If there is one message that I could broadcast to those who have exited high control religion, it is that the storylines that originate from the doctrine of original sin (i.e. humans are depraved, wicked, and sinful to the core) are a complete load of bullshit garbage. Yes, there is evil in the world. Yes, sometimes I look around and feel like people are assholes. But there is also an enormous amount of goodness and kindness in people and in communities, and there is hope that things can and do get better, change for the better, and grow and transform for the better.
3. I am the expert on me.
For many of us who spent time in high control religion, we were taught that our thoughts and feelings can’t be trusted. Instead, we were told to rely on spiritual authorities (like pastors, mentors, small group leaders, etc.) or to ask God to reveal his will. While seeking advice or guidance can be helpful, true healing comes from cultivating self-awareness, trusting your intuition, and reclaiming your agency.
Why I’m Sharing This…
I share this personal story from a couple decades ago because I know how isolating religious trauma can feel. My hope is that in reading this others who have navigated similar experiences will feel seen and understood. High control religion has a way of making you feel small, afraid, ashamed, broken, and always at fault. But you are none of those things. If you have ever been told by someone in your faith community that your desires, choices, or identity are wrong, or that you are to blame for bad things happening, please know that that is categorically untrue, and that the problem isn’t you.
Healing from religious trauma takes time, but it is possible. If you’re ready to begin or continue this journey, I’d be honored to support you. Reach out today for a free consultation.