Forced belief denies the free will God gifted us.
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When people walk away from a religious group, tired of the weight of leadership’s flaws, they often find themselves on a winding and perplexing road. The desire for connection pulls them toward new communities, ones that seem to promise a refuge from the burdens they left behind. At first, there’s relief—a lightness in escaping the rigid expectations and disillusionment. But as they settle into these new groups, they begin to notice something unsettling: familiar patterns emerging, like shadows they thought they had escaped.
Rules creep in, subtle at first but growing, expectations of conformity tighten, and leaders claim authority that begins to feel uncomfortably similar to the very structure they fled. Financial appeals, unyielding doctrines, and a sense of déjà vu bring the realization—they’ve traded one set of chains for another.
The journey of leaving a group is no small feat. It carves out a void, a cavernous space where identity and purpose once resided. Filling that emptiness can be an overwhelming task. The hope placed in new connections often blinds people to warning signs. Red flags become pink in the glow of belonging, and initial misgivings are smoothed over by rationalizations. “This time,” they tell themselves, “It’s different.” But gradually, like a well-worn script, the same story begins to play out again.
Ironically, many who move on find themselves still tethered to their past, their focus shifting from faith to fury. Instead of embracing new paths, they become fixated on dismantling the old. Their lives can turn into a relentless campaign to prove their departure was justified, an endless retelling of grievances. The energy spent tearing down what was left behind traps them, a Sisyphean cycle of rolling the same stone uphill, only to see it tumble back into resentment.
The psalmist’s wisdom in Psalm 146:3 offers a striking reflection: “Do not put your trust in princes, in human beings, who cannot save.” It’s a reminder that human leadership—whether from old groups or new—is fraught with imperfection. Jesus, too, warned against relying on flawed authority. His invitation was clear: seek God directly. “And do not call anyone on earth ‘father,’ for you have one Father, and he is in heaven” (Matthew 23:9). This call challenges us to anchor our faith not in institutions or leaders, but in a personal relationship with God.
Too often, the yearning to belong leads people to compromise their own convictions, bending their conscience to fit into the mold of a group. Yet true belonging doesn’t require this sacrifice. It springs from a deep connection with God, one that equips us to engage in community without losing ourselves. It’s a belonging rooted not in conformity but in authenticity.
Perhaps the way forward isn’t to avoid groups altogether but to approach them with an open and discerning heart. To recognize the value of shared faith and fellowship while remaining vigilant against placing too much trust in human structures. Trusting God above all frees us to participate in community without the chains of dependency, allowing our faith to remain steadfast, even when human leaders falter.
The liberation lies in breaking free from the need for human mediators and rediscovering the simplicity of walking with God. It’s here that peace is found—not in proving the past wrong, but in embracing a future rooted in grace and truth. No longer shadowboxing with old beliefs, we can move forward with confidence, knowing that our ultimate guide is not a person or a group, but God Himself