A message to the ones who stayed longer than they could explain—
The messages in this post are often ones we see geared toward those struggling after breakups with partners or strife in their families. While these messages may absolutely fit those situations, this post is not about personal relationships. This post is about systems.
It’s about a system that, at its core, exists not only to control—but to dominate, to manipulate, and to silence. It’s about spiritual abuse. It’s about waking up inside a structure that once felt like salvation—until it started to look more like a cage.
If you are an active member of—or believer in—any denomination of the modern Christian church, and you do not resonate with the previous statements as descriptions of that institution, this post is not for you. It is not my intention to drive anyone who is happy and fulfilled in their life and in their churches away from what is right for them—from what is bringing them peace. If you are happy and fulfilled in your life and in your church, then you are already on the path God has laid out for you.
This post is for the ones who, through experience, have reached a level of awakening that revealed a deeper understanding of Christ and His teachings. It’s for those who have already seen and understood. It’s for those who stayed too long in a place that demanded their silence.
It is for the ones who trusted a leader, a doctrine, or a belief system that slowly devoured their discernment and smothered their growth in Him. For the ones who tried to make it work with people or teachings that preached light but operated in darkness. And for those who are just beginning to see it
I believe—and strive to centralize my moral and ethical structure around—the teaching of Christ, but I left the church decades ago. I left the church. I never left Jesus. And, while I carried deep and wide anger at the church—especially in the early days, when the pain of what I realized was lifelong betrayal felt like holy ground had been ripped from beneath me—in those moments of doubt, He never left me
Jesus is the reason I saw the light—and the lies—in the church in the first place. The deeper my relationship with Him went, the more I realized that the church was—despite what they taught and believed about themselves—nothing like Him, and nothing like who or what I wanted to be.
Ultimately, He became the only reason I held onto my faith at all. If it had been left to humanity to define God for me? I would have walked away from Him altogether—and never looked back. The sad truth is, many do…and they don’t have to.
Jesus wasn’t a Christian. Jesus never built a church. He flipped the tables in one. He never preached—not from the place modern Christianity’s leaders do. He never begged for anything—least of all, money. He trusted God for whatever He needed to make his way.
Jesus taught. He led by example, as any true teacher does. He stood firm in what He believed without contradicting Himself. He practiced what He preached—from the tiniest details to the greatest miracles.
If you’ve been burned by those who used his name as a mask for control, manipulation, or spiritual theater—I want you to know: You’re not crazy for waking up. You’re not lost for questioning. And you’re not alone for walking away.
Jesus is still with you, and He is not about religion—He is about conscious. Christ Consciousness.
Hindsight
For those who stayed longer than they feel they should have, in hindsight:
Maybe you stayed longer than wish you had. Maybe you stayed longer than some understood. Longer than your intuition was comfortable with. Longer than you promised yourself you would.
And maybe now, on the other side of it—or somewhere near the edge—you’re wondering why. Maybe you ask yourself, “Was I delusional? Was I in denial? Was I weak? Was I codependent? Was I stupid?”
Let me tell you what I wish someone had told me back then: You weren’t crazy. You were surviving.
Maybe no one else saw the thread you were holding on to. Maybe you barely saw it yourself. But it was there—the logic your soul understood, even when your mind couldn’t explain it. You stayed as long as you needed to. Divine timing is a real thing, and you understood it—even if you didn’t know you did.
You stayed because leaving in the wrong way—and at the wrong time—would’ve broken something deeper in you. You stayed because you needed to feel in control of yourself. You needed to take your time, work with God, work out your salvation with fear and trembling—just as the scriptures teach us—and manage your part of the collapse.
You stayed because your healing couldn’t begin in chaos. Your grief couldn’t fully begin or be fully processed while you were still being gaslit. The fallout had to happen on your terms, not theirs. That doesn’t make you weak-that makes you wise in ways only trauma teaches.
You waited for the exit that wouldn’t hollow you out and/or swallow you whole. You waited until you could look yourself in the mirror and say, “I left with my soul intact.” And maybe you were shattered—but you didn’t shatter yourself to make someone else feel whole.
You gave it time. You gave yourself what you needed—whether or not you could name it at the time. And now?
Maybe you’re on the other side. Still aching. Still wondering if you stayed too long. Still flinching when someone calls it “delusion.” “Codependency with the world.” “Psychosis.” “Heresy.” “Sin.”
Let me say this as clearly as I can:
Yes, you stayed. It was strategy. It was sacred. And it worked, because you’re here—and you are healing.
By their fruits you will know them. (Matthew 7:16)
Not by their title. Not by their charisma. Not by their Bible verses or spiritual language. Not by their spiritual narcissism.
By their fruit.
By what they give, and what they leave behind in people’s hearts.
If what they gave you—and what they left you with—was confusion, self-doubt, guilt, fear, or unworthiness, despite the truth your soul, in its discernment, was screaming to you from the void, then it’s okay to let that tree be chopped down. Even if they swore it bore the name of God.
How to Know You’re Free Now
Freedom doesn’t always feel like fireworks. Sometimes it’s just the absence of fear. The silence where anxiety used to live. The ability to breathe. The space in your chest that doesn’t tighten anymore when their presence—and their judgment—crosses your mind.
You’ll know you’re free when you stop replaying the story to find a different ending. You stop needing them to explain what you already understand. You can sit in stillness without waiting for the next emotional hit. You choose peace over closure. You remember what joy feels like without guilt. You catch yourself smiling and realize it’s not because of—or in spite of—them.
You’re free when it’s just you, and God, and that’s all you need. You’re free when you can finally breathe.
Freedom, like faith, isn’t loud: it’s steady, and it stays.
What to Do with the Shame That Creeps In
Shame is a liar that shows up wearing the voices of those who judge you—and sometimes, your own voice telling you: “You should’ve left sooner.” “You should’ve known better.” “You let them do this to you.”
But here’s the truth, if you were truly following God:
You did know, you did try—and when the moment was right for you, you left. If it was God leading you to leave, then you gave all your time and effort to Him—not to the church and meeting its requirements. You allowed yourself to be shown by Him who He was, and where He needed you to be. Despite what others may think they see in you or believe to be true, you’ve worked really, really hard to heal what broke you down and the damage that was caused. You became the clay and allowed God to mold you and shape you.
Spoiler alert for those pointing out your splinters while ignoring their beams: Jesus is still with you—because He is not who or what you left. Jesus did not abandon you because you left a place that made it feel like He was far away. He’s closer now than He’s ever been.
You don’t owe yourself anger. You owe yourself compassion. God, your angels and guides, and you carried you through what others didn’t yet have words for. The lot of you held the line and waited for the window. When it opened, you ran—and all the spirits, including the Holy One, cheered you on.
So when shame whispers, remind yourself, “I was not in denial. I was discerning. I was not weak. I was wise. And I left when leaving meant I could live, not just survive.”
Closing Thoughts
The truth will set you free. (John 8:32)
But first, it will burn through every lie you called home. It will ask you to leave what you once swore was sacred. It will invite you to rebuild—not with performance, but with presence. With love and knowing,
If any part of this post/message resonates with you, you are already in the process of, or on the other side of, accepting this truth. To the ones still sitting in silence, still second-guessing their scars—
You don’t have to justify how long you stayed. You don’t have to explain the way you left. You don’t have to defend the part of you that needed to wait until it was safe.
I see you. I’ve been there, and you’re not alone. You’re not broken. You’re not crazy.
You’re free.
The Twin Tree Project 