Freedom, But Only If You Obey: The Catch-22 of High-Control Religion
The Promise of Freedom That Never Came
Growing up in evangelicalism, the phrase “freedom in Christ” was everywhere. I heard it in sermons, sang it in worship songs, and recited it in prayers. The idea of spiritual freedom wasn’t just implied — it was explicitly promised. Freedom in Christ was supposed to be the gift, the proof, and the reward for surrendering to and following God.
But as an adolescent, I remember wondering why that freedom never actually showed up for me.
Despite accepting Jesus into my heart, committing my life to him, and trying hard to follow all the rules, I didn’t feel free. I felt lonely and socially out of place. I constantly worried that I wasn’t good enough — not holy enough, not selfless enough, not joyful enough. No matter how much I prayed or performed, the ache never lifted. The shame never left.
And the message I internalized was this: if you weren’t experiencing the peace and freedom that had been promised, it wasn’t because the promise was flawed — it was because you were.
Still anxious? You must have unconfessed sin.
Still struggling with shame? That’s probably pride.
Still not feeling the joy of the Lord? Maybe you're being selfish.
The solution was always more obedience, more submission, more self-denial. Which raises the question: was that really freedom at all?
I still remember a moment from my twenties, when I was still deep in high-control religion. I was on a backpacking trip, out in nature, when a Bible verse suddenly came to mind. I don’t even remember what the verse was (at this point that was over 2 decades ago!) — only that I immediately believed God had brought it to my attention for a reason. In those days, I assumed every verse that surfaced in my head was a divine message, usually meant to convict me of something I was doing wrong.
Sure enough, the verse triggered a familiar response: Here’s where I’ve stepped out of line. Here’s what I need to repent of. Here’s how I need to get back on track with God. It was automatic. Like muscle memory.
And then right after that, I remember thinking something I never had before:
"This is getting old."
The cycle of constant correction, self-examination, and striving was exhausting. But even that tiny flicker of honesty sparked a fresh wave of guilt. I asked God to forgive me for my impatience. I told him I’d try harder to be grateful for his discipline. I begged for a better attitude.
Still, something lingered — a weariness I couldn’t quite ignore. A small, persistent question that kept echoing in the background:
Is this really helping me grow? Is this what freedom is supposed to feel like?
At the time, I didn’t have the language for religious trauma or spiritual burnout. But that moment started something. The acknowledgment of fatigue. The burden of the pressure. The quiet realization that maybe this cycle wasn’t actually serving me. That maybe, just maybe, the “freedom” I was promised was never really freedom at all.
If you're starting to question whether you still align with your faith, this guide on faith deconstruction might help put some language around what you're going through.
When "Freedom in Christ" Comes with Strings Attached
In high-control religion, the idea of freedom is often held up as a core promise — but only certain kinds of beliefs, behaviors, and people are allowed to claim it. The moment you begin to question, doubt, or deviate from the norm, that promised freedom suddenly becomes conditional.
You can be “free”… as long as you believe the right things.
You can be “free”… as long as you don’t question authority.
You can be “free”… as long as you don’t express queerness, anger, boundaries, or grief.
In practice, it’s not really freedom. It’s spiritual performance.
High-control religion often teaches that obedience equals liberation. But what’s actually happening is the opposite: you’re being taught to suppress your own inner voice, your critical thinking, and your emotional truth — all in the name of “freedom.”
The Catch-22 of Religious Obedience
It’s a classic double bind:
You're told that the only path to true freedom is complete submission.
You're told that questioning is rebellion.
You're told that discomfort is just your sinful nature resisting sanctification.
So if you feel stuck, ashamed, or spiritually exhausted, the system has a built-in response: try harder. And if that doesn’t work? Clearly, you’re the problem.
This is what makes it so hard to name religious trauma when you're in it. It’s not just the teachings or doctrines — it’s the internalized blame and shame. You’re taught not to trust your own signals. The more pain you feel, the more the system insists you’re broken. So instead of stepping back and saying, "This isn’t working for me," you’re more likely to say, "What’s wrong with me?"
What This Looks Like in Real Life
Religious trauma survivors often share eerily similar stories:
You were told you were “free in Christ,” but when you began setting boundaries, you were accused of being selfish.
You were encouraged to “be transformed by the renewing of your mind,” but when you started thinking critically, you were warned not to be deceived.
You were told that God’s love was unconditional — but it sure felt like it depended on your obedience, modesty, sexual purity, or theological alignment to your faith community.
These contradictions aren’t just confusing — they’re destabilizing. They plant deep seeds of self-doubt, often leading to chronic anxiety, shame, spiritual burnout, or dissociation from your own body and intuition.
How This Catch-22 Affects the Nervous System
As a therapist who works with religious trauma survivors, I often see how these spiritual double binds show up somatically. When “freedom” is weaponized, the body doesn’t feel safe — it feels trapped.
Clients describe things like:
Feeling guilty for relaxing, because rest was always framed as laziness or selfishness.
Struggling to speak up, because asserting a boundary was once labeled as selfish or unkind.
Feeling terrified to explore new beliefs or communities, because they were taught that straying meant eternal consequences like going to hell and being separated from God forever.
The nervous system becomes wired for hypervigilance, spiritual fawning, or numbing out entirely. This isn’t spiritual weakness — it’s a trauma response.
You Were Never the Problem
If you’ve internalized the belief that you failed faith, instead of faith failing you — you’re not alone. This is how high-control systems maintain power. They keep people compliant by making them believe that suffering under the system is their own fault.
But here's the truth:
You didn’t fail the system.
The system failed you.
You were taught that freedom meant surrendering your self. But real freedom — emotional, spiritual, embodied freedom — involves the presence of safety, agency, and self-trust.
What Real Freedom Starts to Feel Like
For many religious trauma survivors, reclaiming freedom looks like:
Learning to trust your own voice again
Giving yourself permission to rest, rage, feel, and explore
Releasing the belief that you have to earn your worth or prove your goodness
Surrounding yourself with people who don’t require you to shrink to belong
And sometimes, freedom looks like grieving. Mourning the years you spent trying to be “good enough” for a version of God that only loved you conditionally.
And, you don’t have to shout your freedom from the rooftops for it to matter. Sometimes it's enough to simply exist as your full self.
You Don’t Have to Earn Your Way Out
Healing from religious trauma isn’t about arriving at perfect clarity or building a better theology. It’s about tending to your wounds. It’s about letting yourself be fully human — even when your old belief system told you that your humanity was sinful.
If you feel like you’re caught between who you were told to be and who you’re becoming — that’s okay. That’s where most of us start. Freedom doesn’t have to be loud or dramatic. Sometimes, it begins with a whisper: "I get to ask questions." "I don’t have to explain myself." "I’m allowed to feel this."
A Final Word: You Deserve to Be Free
The version of freedom you were sold — the one that depended on obedience, denial, and shame — wasn’t real freedom. But you can build something better.
You can reclaim freedom as curiosity. As choice. As connection.
You can untangle fear from your existence.
You can learn to feel safe in your own skin again.
It won’t happen overnight. But you don’t have to walk through it alone.
You deserve support. You deserve healing.
And yes — you deserve to feel free.
If you're looking for a therapist who gets it, I'm currently accepting new clients in California, Florida, and Missouri.
Request a free consultation below to learn more about working together.
Curious what healing might look like in therapy? Here’s what you can expect when working with a religious trauma therapist.