Looking back, I had what I would describe as an ideal childhood! Two parents who loved me and each other. A home where I felt safe, loved, and free to be myself. I spent hours playing outside, exploring the world around me, and letting my imagination turn ordinary spaces into magical places. I was able to have a childhood that gave me confidence, joy, and the foundation to grow into who I am today.

A large part of my childhood was surrounded by the church we attended. I loved going to church, memorizing verses in Sunday School, singing hymns in the services, and being part of a close-knit community where everyone seemed to care about one another. We had all kinds of fun activities and traditions that I always looked forward to. Whether it was Vacation Bible Time in the summer or Christmas programs in the winter, there was always something exciting going on. I interacted with kind people who loved and cared about me. Our Pastor was a gentle, meek, kind man who exuded the love of Christ. Church was the center of my world, and at the time, it felt safe and familiar.

It wasn’t until I was older and the church leadership changed, that I started to struggle. I began to recognize how deeply the teachings of the high control religion I was born into had shaped my view of myself and the world around me. What once felt like a loving, faith-filled environment had quietly molded my personality around fear, guilt, and the constant need for perfection and approval, both from both God and those who claimed to speak for Him.

For children born into and raised in high control religions like the Independent Fundamental Baptist (IFB) churches, the idea of God is often presented through a lens of high stakes and conditional love. God is portrayed as watching every thought and action, keeping a record of failures, and ready to withdraw His blessing at the first sign of disobedience. This version of faith teaches children that the world is divided into two categories: the righteous and the wicked, the obedient and the rebellious. They are taught that one misstep could place them on the wrong side of God’s favor. The pressure to please an all-seeing, easily angered deity can quietly shape every part of a child’s development, leading to anxiety, perfectionism, and a lifelong struggle trying to feel “good enough.”

Verses like Romans 3:23, “For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God,” and Jeremiah 17:9, “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?” were often used to remind us of our unworthiness. We were told that our hearts could not be trusted, that our own instincts would lead us astray, and that obedience, no matter how uncomfortable, was the only path to righteousness. Isaiah 64:6 was another commonly cited verse: “But we are all as an unclean thing, and all our righteousnesses are as filthy rags.” (read more about what I have to say about this by clicking HERE) This teaching instilled the belief that even our best efforts were worthless in God’s eyes, leaving little room for grace or self-compassion.

This kind of theology makes it nearly impossible for children to develop a healthy sense of self. Instead of learning that God’s love is constant and unconditional, many grow up believing that His affection must be earned through fear, submission, and perfection. Being taught that we’re saved by grace through faith, not works, but then told our “fruit” must prove it, leaving many of us feeling like grace is never quite enough. It’s a worldview that can warp how the children relate to others as well: teaching them to equate authority with truth, to suppress doubt, and to see failure as moral weakness rather than part of being human.

The emotional consequences of this run deep. Many adults who grew up in high control religions now struggle with chronic guilt, spiritual anxiety, and difficulty trusting their own intuition. When you are taught that questioning is rebellion and that your own thoughts cannot be trusted, you learn to silence your inner voice, the very voice that helps you discern right from wrong, safety from danger, and love from manipulation! It also creates a warped image of God. An image that is more like a harsh taskmaster than a loving creator.

Children raised under this high-stakes faith often become adults who either live in constant fear of disappointing God or walk away from faith altogether, unsure if the God they were taught about is worth knowing. A theology built on fear can produce temporary obedience, but it rarely nurtures true love. When the foundation of faith is fear rather than trust, it leaves lasting scars on the soul.

True faith, the kind that brings peace and healing, does not thrive in an atmosphere of control or shame. It grows in the freedom to question, to wrestle, and to learn that being loved by God does not depend on perfection. Breaking free from the high-stakes view of God isn’t rebellion, it’s recovery! It’s rediscovering that a relationship with God was never meant to be about fear, but about love, compassion, and grace.

Disclaimer: The personal experiences shared in this post are based on my personal perspective. While I chose to leave the IFB to find a more gracious and loving faith, it is important to acknowledge that individuals may have different experiences and find happiness within the IFB or any other religious institution. The decision to leave the IFB does not imply a loss of faith, as faith is a deeply personal and subjective matter. It is essential to respect and recognize the diversity of experiences and perspectives within religious communities. The content shared is for informational purposes only and should not be construed as professional advice, guidance, or a universal representation of the IFB or any religious organization. It is recommended to seek guidance, conduct research, and consider multiple perspectives when making personal decisions or exploring matters of faith.