October 26, 2020
My work here on this blog and in my book is about exploring the ways that a life spent within fundamentalist religion impacts many other crucial aspects of our lives—not only what we believe. Some of these effects still linger long after we have left the faith. Some Deconverted Men may wrestle their entire lives with unlearning these damaging teachings.
One of those key areas that life in fundamentalist religion damages is our social lives. In this article, I’ll discuss three key ways this occurs.
But first, I’d like to clarify that I consider your social life to be your friendships with other men. Romantic relationships is an entirely different area of your life that fundamentalist religion damages; I discuss that elsewhere. Additionally, friendships with women certainly have their place, but are not the topic of this article.
1. Your friend group is mostly homogenous
Think back to your old church community. Maybe it was your weekly Bible study small group. Maybe it was your entire youth group. Maybe it was your church’s entire congregation.
I’m willing to bet that, more or less, the people in your church were very similar.
Your church community was likely comprised of people of the same race, or the same social class, or the same income level. Perhaps all three.
This was definitely the case for me. Most of my friends were exactly like me in terms of upbringing, belief system, and lifestyle. A large portion of us even went to the same Christian school.
I don’t think most churches go out of their way to be like this (although some do). Church buildings are built in a certain location in a specific community and the people in that community, who are likely to be quite similar (especially in smaller cities or towns) will congregate to that particular church because it’s close to home.
But as I’ve grown, I’ve learned that there can be some negative ramifications if your social circle is comprised of people that are all exactly like you. That doesn’t mean your friends are bad people or that you’re wrong for being friends with them. Rather, it means you’re likely insulate yourself inside a bubble that prevents you from learning about and experiencing the wider world and the people in it.
2. You can’t learn much from your friends
If you’ve read my book, you know that I am a strong proponent of men actively and intentionally choosing friends that they can learn from.
With my church-based friend group, I was always looking to learn from my friends that were further ahead in their spiritual development. Because of this, I was learning things like how to be more like Jesus, how to read the Bible, and how to share the gospel.
As you can see, I spent a lot of time learning things that don’t have much value to me now.
After I deconverted, I made it a strong goal of mine to seek out friends that were different from me and learn about them, their pasts, and their beliefs. Doing this allowed me to see the world much more three-dimensionally and how we all fit into it in different (and valid) ways. Life and human experience made a lot more sense. Nothing was one size fits all.
This also allowed me to better practice things that the Church claims to teach, but really doesn’t: empathy, acceptance, and unconditional love.
3. You constantly compare yourself with your friends
In a friend group of men that all have similar religious beliefs, lifestyles, and goals, it is inevitable that there will be some comparison going on, no matter how many sermons you attend that tell you not to compare yourself with others.
Because when you’re seeking to grow in your spirituality, the tendency is to pick out individuals you believe are further along and eventually be like them, thus comparing yourself. When I chose my mentors in my friend group, I was constantly striving to be more like them.
This is bad because not only are you exerting effort to be someone that will no longer apply once you deconvert, but the comparison incites a lot of guilt and shame.
When you see friends that are “more spiritual” or “have their life together” or “never miss a quiet time” or “have a flourishing prayer life” or “never gossip” then it causes you to feel guilt and shame when you can’t say the same for yourself. That guilt and shame intensifies when you earnestly try to emulate these ideals and fail.
This also works the other way. Some established Christians look back on newer ones that are struggling with a certain sin pattern and just shake their heads and think “if only their faith were stronger, they’d break the cycle.”
When you have a healthy mix of friends with completely different lifestyles, backgrounds, beliefs, and unique goals for their lives, then you are better able to leave comparison at the door and let your friend be them while you’re busy being you. There’s a healthy level of acceptance there that allows for a far more sincere friendship.
Do any of these points describe you during your time in fundamentalism? Let me know in the comments!