“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?” — Jeremiah 17:9 (KJV)

This verse is commonly quoted in high-control religious environments to discourage trust in one’s own feelings, thoughts, or intuition. It’s often used to justify external control or authority, implying that people must not trust themselves and must instead rely entirely on religious leaders or teachings.

For much of my life, I wanted to trust myself. I longed to believe that my instincts, my thoughts, and my judgment were worthy of trust. But growing up in a high-demand religious environment, I was constantly told otherwise. I was taught that my heart was “desperately wicked,” that my desires and feelings were unreliable, and that the only path to righteousness was through unquestioning submission to external authority. I was taught to doubt myself, to suppress my own intuition in favor of what others dictated, and to believe that my worth was defined not by my own choices but by how well I adhered to a prescribed set of rules. It wasn’t just that I couldn’t trust myself; I was made to believe that to do so was wrong.

Slowly, quietly, and often painfully, I began to unlearn that lie. And in its place, a simple but radical truth emerged: I can trust myself.

Learning to trust myself didn’t happen overnight. It came with listening to the gut feelings I chose to honor, boundaries I dared to set, emotions I allowed myself to feel without shame. At first, it felt like betrayal. I had been conditioned to believe that to trust myself was to rebel against God, authority, or tradition. But I began to see that trusting myself was not an act of defiance, it was an act of integrity.

To trust myself is to believe that I am capable of making good decisions, even if they don’t look like what others expect. It’s believing that I know when something isn’t right, even if I can’t explain it in a way that satisfies everyone. It’s allowing myself to change, to grow, to evolve, even when others prefer the version of me that was easier to control.

Trusting myself means recognizing that my intuition is not a liability, it’s a compass. That my needs are not inconveniences, they’re signals. That my story matters, not just the polished version, but the messy, honest, human one.

I no longer outsource my truth to people who think they know me better than I know myself. I am not perfect, and I will make mistakes, but that doesn’t mean I’m untrustworthy. It means I’m human. And the more I’ve learned to listen to my own voice, the more I’ve discovered that it was never trying to lead me astray, it was trying to lead me home.

When a pastor or spiritual leader consistently uses your “heart is deceitful and desperately wicked” as a tool to discourage self-trust, question your instincts, or dismiss your emotions, that’s spiritual manipulation, not biblical teaching in good faith.

If every thought, emotion, or gut feeling is immediately suspect, then there’s no room for spiritual maturity or emotional intelligence to develop. Healthy spiritual leaders encourage you to grow in discernment and critical thinking, not silence your voice in the name of obedience. Even Scripture affirms the need to “test the spirits” (1 John 4:1) and that wisdom is available to those who ask (James 1:5). If a pastor discourages testing his spirit, if questioning him is equated with rebellion, that’s a red flag.

A spiritual leader who uses this verse repeatedly to shut down questions or enforce conformity is saying, “You can’t trust yourself, only me.” That’s not biblical authority, that’s authoritarianism.

Believing that your inner voice is inherently wicked can severely damage your relationship with both yourself and God. You may begin to mistrust your own experiences, dismiss legitimate concerns, and remain in harmful situations because you’ve been taught to confuse control with care. Over time, this mindset erodes your ability to distinguish between the voice of God and the voice of whoever claims to speak on His behalf, leaving you spiritually disoriented and emotionally disconnected.

When we are taught to distrust our own hearts, we are not being protected, we are being controlled. True spiritual growth does not come from silencing ourselves in fear, but from learning to discern wisely and walk in truth. A healthy relationship with God invites self-awareness, honesty, and the courage to listen inwardly with grace, not suspicion. Reclaiming trust in ourselves is not rebellion, it’s restoration. It’s the beginning of a faith that is lived, not imposed.

“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?”
— Jeremiah 17:9 (KJV)

This verse is frequently quoted in isolation. But when we look at the historical and literary context, we gain a clearer understanding of what it’s actually addressing. A healthier interpretation might say, “You can learn to trust yourself while also practicing discernment.”
If you are interested in learning more about what I have discovered about the historical and literary context you can check out this post from September 2023 by clicking HERE or below

Desperately Wicked!? Or Covered By 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 community, 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.

Finding Faith Following Fundamentalism

Just Because It Is Said About You Doesn’t Mean It Is True

May 13, 2025October 12, 2025 LauraJoli LookingJoliGood2 Comments

There is a quiet kind of violence in the words people speak about us. Sometimes it’s loud and obvious, labels hurled in anger or judgment. Other times, it’s subtle, passive-aggressive, cloaked in concern or advice, spoken from pulpits, whispered in passing, or passed down like family heirlooms. “You’re rebellious.” “You’re too sensitive.” “You’re not enough.” or sometimes it is that “You’re too much.” Over time, their words echo in the back of our minds, growing louder than our own thoughts, making it hard to determine what is true. But here’s the truth: just because it’s said about me doesn’t mean it’s true.

For those of us who grew up in high-control environments, whether religious, cultural, or familial, this lesson is hard-won. When your worth has been measured by how well you fit someone else’s mold, it’s easy to believe that their version of you is the only one that counts. It takes time, distance, and often a great deal of pain to realize that the stories others tell about you are not always rooted in truth, they’re rooted in their expectations, their fears, and quite often their need for control.

They may say I’m difficult because I ask questions. That doesn’t make it true.
They may say I’m ungodly because I left their version of faith. That doesn’t make it true.
They may say I’m demanding because I no longer let them manipulate me. That doesn’t make it true.
They may say I’m broken because I no longer perform the role they assigned me. That doesn’t make it true.

We do not owe our identity to those who benefit from our silence or compliance. And we are not required to carry the weight of someone else’s narrative simply because they say it with confidence or authority. Freedom comes when we stop handing people the pen and start writing our own story.

This is not about defiance for the sake of defiance. It’s about discernment, learning to recognize which voices are worth listening to and which ones were never speaking in love to begin with. It’s about drawing a sacred boundary around our worth and saying, “You don’t get to define me just because you’re louder.”

The more I shed the labels others gave me, the more clearly I see who I actually am. I am curious, compassionate, resilient, thoughtful, brave, and yes, still growing. But most importantly, I am who I say I am. I get to decide what is true about me.

Finding Faith Following Fundamentalism

Never Enough…

April 6, 2025April 6, 2025 LauraJoli LookingJoliGood5 Comments

For as long as I can remember, the message was clear, be more, do more, give more. And yet, no matter how much I did, it was never quite right, never enough. This phrase “never enough” echoed quietly beneath the surface of my life, a constant hum in the background of my thoughts, my choices, my identity. It took years before I realized that I had internalized a system that thrived on my inadequacy.

Growing up in an environment that prized perfection cloaked in piety, I learned early that love and acceptance were conditional. In church, the sermons urged us to be holy, to be separate, to be pure. Any failure to meet these expectations was met with disappointment or worse, silence. I didn’t question it. It was just the way things were. I just kept trying to be better, to be good enough.

I tried to be the best, the best Christian, the best example. I led Bible studies, dressed modestly, try to avoid anything deemed “worldly,” and offered apologies before anyone had a chance to be upset. Whenever I engaged in “worldly” activities like watching movies or listening to secular music, I was overwhelmed with guilt, not just because I was letting down my parents or church leaders, but because I believed I was disappointing Jesus Himself. No matter how holy I tried to be the target always moved. If I met one expectation, another would arise. It was as though the rules were designed for the goal to be just out of reach. If I were thinner, quieter, more agreeable, more submissive, then maybe I would be enough. But I never was.

The heartbreaking thing about being stuck in this cycle is that it doesn’t ask you to improve for your own growth or joy, it asks you to shrink. The more I conformed, the less of myself I became. I began to doubt my own instincts. I didn’t voice my opinions and when I did I saw the disapproving looks on the faces of those around me. I knew what I liked and wanted, only to feel I should avoid or suppress them. I lived in fear of disappointing people whose approval I was taught to need in order to be loved, not just loved by them, but loved and accepted by God.

It took years of unlearning to realize that “never enough” wasn’t the truth. It was a tool, one used to control, to manipulate, to keep people (especially women) small and dependent. It kept me chasing validation from systems and people who had no intention of ever giving it. Because if I ever did feel like I was enough, I might stop complying. I might stop serving. I might stop performing. I might realize that I didn’t need them.

Healing means reclaiming the parts of myself I was told to cut away. It means understanding that my worth isn’t rooted in how well I follow someone else’s script. It means saying no without guilt and resting without shame. Most importantly, it means rejecting the lie that I am only as valuable as my church attendance and performance.

“Never enough” was never the truth. I am enough, not because of what I do or how I appear, but because I exist. And that is finally enough for me.

Grace costs nothing and requires nothing of me!

Finding Faith Following Fundamentalism · Health/ Fitness

A Quiet Hunger

January 12, 2025October 12, 2025 LauraJoli LookingJoliGood2 Comments

The Connection Between High Control Religion and Women’s Disordered Eating

The new year often brings a surge of pressure to start dieting, driven by societal expectations and resolutions promising transformation. This focus on weight loss as a marker of success can overshadow the importance of mental and physical well-being, turning food into a source of stress rather than nourishment. While there is nothing wrong with wanting to be healthier and lose weight, dieting often stems from external pressures rather than personal health goals, leading to unsustainable habits and frustration. I have experienced this struggle in my own life.

The Independent Fundamental Baptist (IFB) church wasn’t just a place where I worshipped, it shaped how I saw the world, how I understood my role in it, and most critically, how I viewed myself. For years, I didn’t realize how much the environment I grew up in influenced my relationship with food, exercise, my body, and my self-worth. It’s only after stepping away that I’ve begun to connect the dots between the rigid expectations of the IFB and the subtle, yet pervasive, way they contributed to the disordered eating in my life and the lives of other women like me.

At first glance, it might not seem obvious how a religious community could fuel something like disordered eating. After all, the IFB didn’t preach diet plans from the pulpit or hand out weight-loss flyers during Sunday school. But what they did preach, and what they didn’t say, set the stage for a culture where women’s bodies were constantly under scrutiny, both explicitly and implicitly (1 Timothy 2:9-15 and 1 Peter 3:3-4). Messages about modesty, self-denial, and submission created an atmosphere where controlling one’s body became an act of spiritual devotion and self-worth often felt tied to outward appearance (Romans 12:1-2 and 2 Corinthians 10:5).

Modesty was a cornerstone of my upbringing. Women were taught to cover their bodies to avoid being a “stumbling block” for men (Luke 17:1-2, Romans 14:13, Ezekiel 14:3-7). Hemlines and necklines were policed with precision, and the unspoken message was clear: Your body is dangerous. It’s something to be hidden, controlled, and subdued. This idea planted the seeds of shame in many of us. We learned to view our bodies as a problem, something to fix or diminish, rather than something to embrace or celebrate.

Then came the relentless emphasis on self-denial (Matthew 16:24-26,Luke 9:23-24, Romans 12:1-2). The IFB held up sacrifice as the ultimate virtue, particularly for women. We were told to put others before ourselves, to be servants in our homes, and to carry our crosses daily (Philippians 2:3-4, Ephesians 6:4-9, Matthew 16:24-26, Galatians 5:13). Food and body control naturally became an outlet for this teaching. Skipping meals or dieting wasn’t just a matter of fitting into societal beauty standards, it became a subconscious way to live out the church’s doctrine of self-sacrifice. For many women, this manifested in extreme calorie restriction, bingeing and purging, fad diets, or obsessively exercising, all framed in their minds as acts of discipline and devotion. Prayer and fasting were often regarded as a pious and spiritual method of seeking divine intervention or demonstrating devotion, but they could also serve as a socially acceptable excuse for disordered eating.

In this environment, thinness often became an unspoken measure of holiness. While no one said it outright, there was an underlying belief that a thin, modestly dressed woman embodied discipline, self-control, and godliness. On the other hand, a woman who was overweight, or even just content in her body, was often viewed as lazy or lacking spiritual discipline. I remember how women who gained weight after having children would apologize for their appearance, as though they had failed not only themselves but God as well. This association between body size and spiritual worth created an impossible standard that many of us felt compelled to meet.

The IFB, like many high control religions, also had little room for emotions like anger, sadness, or frustration. Women were expected to be joyful, submissive, and quietly supportive at all times (Ephesians 5:22-24, 1 Peter 3:1-6, Titus 2:3-5). For some, food became the only place to process or numb those suppressed feelings. Emotional eating or food restriction often filled the void where emotional honesty should have been. In a church culture that prized silence over confrontation, controlling food became a way to deal with emotions that had no other outlet (Proverbs 10:19, Proverbs 17:27, James 1:19, Colossians 4:6).

Stepping away from the high control of the IFB has given me a new perspective on these patterns. It’s clear now that the disordered relationship I developed with food and my body wasn’t just about societal pressures or personal insecurities, it was deeply tied to the messages I absorbed in church. It took years to untangle the connection, and even now, I find myself unraveling layers of guilt and shame that I didn’t even know I was carrying.

What’s heartbreaking is how common this story is. In speaking with other women who left the IFB, and other high control religions, I’ve heard countless variations of the same struggle. We were taught to shrink ourselves, physically, emotionally, and spiritually, and that shrinking became second nature. Some have fought to reclaim their bodies and their worth, while others are still wrestling with the aftershocks of those teachings.

Reclaiming a healthy relationship with food and my body has been a slow and ongoing journey. It’s meant learning to listen to my body instead of punishing it. It’s meant dismantling the belief that my worth is tied to my appearance or my ability to control my physical self. And perhaps most importantly, it’s meant giving myself permission to take up space, in my body, in my emotions, and in my life.

The IFB’s teachings about women’s roles, modesty, and self-denial were never meant to cause harm, but the ripple effects have been profound (1 Timothy 2:9-15, 1 Peter 3:1-6, Ephesians 5:22-24, Colossians 3:18-24). For many women, they’ve resulted in a quiet hunger, not just for food, but for freedom, self-acceptance, and a life free from the constant pressure to shrink. By shedding those harmful beliefs, I’ve found a new kind of fullness, one that no diet or doctrine can ever take away.

If you or someone you know is struggling with an eating disorder or disordered eating, it’s important to reach out for support. Seeking assistance from friends, family, or mental health professionals can make a significant difference in navigating these challenges. Remember that you don’t have to face it alone, and there are resources available to help you on the path to recovery. Prioritize your well-being and take the first step toward seeking the support you need.

**I’ve included some resources and references below.**

Disclaimer: I am not an expert on eating disorders or disordered eating. The information provided is based on general knowledge and personal experience and should not be considered as a substitute for professional medical advice or treatment. While I am a registered nurse, I am not your personal healthcare provider. It is advisable for you to consult with your own designated healthcare professional to determine the best course of action for your specific situation for personalized guidance and recommendations tailored to your specific needs.

**Resources:

https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/help-support/contact-helpline

https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/eating-disorders/in-depth/eating-disorder-treatment/art-20046234

https://www.eatingdisorderhope.com/

https://anad.org/

https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/publications/eating-disorders

https://www.theprojectheal.org/

Finding Faith Following Fundamentalism · Health/ Fitness

The Allure and Danger of Weight Loss

January 5, 2025October 12, 2025 LauraJoli LookingJoliGoodLeave a comment

Content Warning: Eating disorders, disordered eating, anorexia, body image, mental health struggles, high control religion.

The start of a new year often brings resolutions centered on weight loss, promising transformation and self-improvement. Social media, advertisements, and societal norms amplify this message, equating thinness with success and happiness. The allure is powerful, shedding pounds seems like a quick fix for deeper insecurities or dissatisfaction.

Yet, this focus can be dangerous. The obsession with weight loss often leads to unhealthy habits, disordered eating, and a strained relationship with food and those around you. Instead of health and well-being, an obsession with thinness can overshadow mental health, self-acceptance and true inner happiness. True health comes from balance, not extremes.

During my freshman year of nursing school, I had a acute awakening to the devastating impact of anorexia, a lesson that didn’t come from textbooks or lectures, but from the lived experience of a close friend. Witnessing her battle with this relentless illness was something that I will never forget.

Prior to this encounter, I had only a superficial understanding of anorexia, viewing it as a distant affliction that affected Karen Carpenter but remained detached from my own reality. However, as I watched my friend’s gradual descent into the grips of this merciless disorder, the harsh reality of its consequences became painfully evident.

What struck me most was the insidious nature of anorexia, how it crept into every aspect of my friend’s life, consuming her thoughts, emotions, and physical well-being. It was a silent and invisible adversary, yet its presence loomed large, casting a shadow over our once carefree friendship. Mealtimes and food related outings with her were excruciating!

At first, I naively believed that I could offer support and encouragement, believing that my friend’s struggle was something she could simply overcome with enough willpower and determination. But as her condition worsened and her weight plummeted to dangerous levels, I realized the depth of her suffering and the gravity of her illness.

Despite my best intentions, I found myself unable to truly comprehend the magnitude of her struggle, unable to grasp the enormity of the challenges she faced on a daily basis. Instead of serving as a beacon of hope and inspiration for her recovery, I unwittingly became ensnared in the dangerous allure of her steady weight loss, as if it were a contagion spreading through our circle of friends.

In retrospect, I recognize the profound irony of my ignorance and the tragedy of my misguided perceptions. My friend’s struggle with anorexia should have served as a stark warning, an example of the devastating toll that this illness exacts on both mind and body. Instead, it became a twisted distortion of reality, blurring the lines between compassion and complicity, empathy and enablement.

It was a painful lesson, one that taught me that the impacts of anorexia are far-reaching and multifaceted, transcending the confines of individual suffering to touch the lives of those who bear witness to its destructive power.

And though I may never fully understand the depths of my friend’s anguish, I do understand the allure of weight loss being the reward. In a world that often equates thinness with worth and beauty, it’s easy to fall into the trap of believing that shedding pounds will bring happiness and acceptance.

While I have never suffered from or received a formal diagnosis of a full blown eating disorder, I have personally grappled with disordered eating patterns. Using food and exercise as a means of control was, at times, a coping mechanism for me. Recognizing these struggles was an essential step in creating a healthier relationship with food and seeking support when needed.

A significant aspect of my post-IFB growth has been centered around healing my connection with body image and food. It has been a lot of work to retrain my thinking towards self-compassion and a positive approach to overall well-being. It took me a long time to believe that I am not defined solely by the food I consume, how much I exercise, or the size of the clothes I wear. My identity encompasses a myriad of qualities beyond these external elements.

group of people making toast | lookingjoligood.blog

Eating is a fundamental part of human life, not only for sustenance but also for social and cultural reasons. However, for some people, the relationship with food can become complicated, leading to harmful behaviors and negative consequences for their physical and mental health.

**Resources:

https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/help-support/contact-helpline

https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/eating-disorders/in-depth/eating-disorder-treatment/art-20046234

https://www.eatingdisorderhope.com/

https://anad.org/

https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/publications/eating-disorders

Project HEAL. (2023, November 10). Project HEAL. https://www.theprojectheal.org/

**References:

Akrawi, D., Bartrop, R., Potter, U., & Touyz, S. (2015). Religiosity, spirituality in relation to disordered eating and body image concerns: A systematic review. Journal of Eating Disorders, 3(1). https://doi.org/10.1186/s40337-015-0064-0

Grenfell, J. W. (2006). Religion and Eating Disorders: Towards understanding a neglected perspective. Feminist Theology, 14(3), 367–387. https://doi.org/10.1177/0966735006063775

Kose, J., Paz‐Graniel, I., Péneau, S., Julia, C., Herçberg, S., Galán, P., Touvier, M., & Andreeva, V. A. (2022). A population-based study of macronutrient intake according to mental health status with a focus on pure and comorbid anxiety and eating disorders. European Journal of Nutrition, 61(7), 3685–3696. https://doi.org/10.1007/s00394-022-02923-x

Huline‐Dickens, S. (2000). Anorexia nervosa: Some connections with the religious attitude. British Journal of Medical Psychology, 73(1), 67–76. https://doi.org/10.1348/000711200160309

National Eating Disorders Association. (2021, July 14). Statistics & Research on eating disorders. https://www.nationaleatingdisorders.org/statistics-research-eating-disorders?gad_source=1&gclid=Cj0KCQiAgK2qBhCHARIsAGACuzn1KQjJps5k1v90ly1NNKbT6SafnV7CzQdvoNS1yasCL2KftzM7JlUaAtEyEALw_wcB

Project HEAL. (2023, November 10). Project HEAL. https://www.theprojectheal.org/

RCN Publishing. (n.d.). Research |. UCLan – University of Central Lancashire. https://clok.uclan.ac.uk/45420/

Riddle, D. R., Presseller, E. K., & Juarascio, A. S. (2023). Latent profiles of emotion dysregulation among individuals with binge‐spectrum eating disorders: Associations with eating disorder pathology. European Eating Disorders Review, 31(6), 793–801. https://doi.org/10.1002/erv.3009

Sigel, E. (2009). DISORDERED EATING BEHAVIORS. In Elsevier eBooks. https://doi.org/10.1016/b978-1-4160-3370-7.00059-6

Thomas, J., O’Hara, L., Tahboub-Schulte, S., Grey, I., & Chowdhury, N. (2018). Holy anorexia: Eating disorders symptomatology and religiosity among Muslim women in the United Arab Emirates. Psychiatry Research, 260, 495–499. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.psychres.2017.11.082

Thorne, R. (2022, September 14). Everything you need to know about disordered eating, according to experts. Healthline. https://www.healthline.com/health/disordered-eating-vs-eating-disorder

What are eating disorders? – Project HEAL. (n.d.). Project HEAL. https://www.theprojectheal.org/what-are-eating-disorders

Why do people become anorexic? | Transformations mending fences. (n.d.). Transformations Mending Fences. https://ttcmendingfences.com/blog/why-do-people-become-anorexic-disordered-eating-explained/?gclid=Cj0KCQiAgK2qBhCHARIsAGACuzlbnVzfVfu64Zwj5BfqF8zYQ8LpFfm1VpmVXhbWXsQE56Klo-QUFaoaAtO0EALw_wcB

Finding Faith Following Fundamentalism

Celebrating Christmas Without the Community I Once Knew and Loved

December 1, 2024December 1, 2024 LauraJoli LookingJoliGood4 Comments

Christmas has always been one of my favorite times of the year because it’s a season filled with warmth, connection, and traditions that bring people together. From the twinkling lights and festive decorations to the joy of giving and reflecting on the year, the Christmas music and cookies, get togethers and gift exchanges, it’s a time that feels both magical and meaningful.

Growing up as part of the Independent Fundamental Baptist (IFB) church, the holiday season was packed with traditions that filled every corner of my life. From the moment Thanksgiving ended, the church sprang into a whirlwind of festive activities, each designed to foster connection, celebrate the season, and, of course, glorify God. For years, these moments were not just traditions—they were my foundation for what Christmas was supposed to look and feel like.

I loved decorating the church. It was a group effort, a tradition that kicked off the holiday season. Members of the congregation gathered together to hang garlands, string lights, and place nativity scenes just so. The sanctuary, usually simple and bare, transformed into a glowing reflection of the holiday spirit, and the work itself was as much a joy as the finished product. It wasn’t just about the decorations; it was the fellowship, the laughter, and the shared excitement for the season.

Each year there was a Christmas cantata. Whether I was performing as a character in the play portion, singing in the choir or helping behind the scenes, they always brought a sense of purpose and joy. The cantata had a special way of connecting the church body, weaving together stories that aimed to remind us of the true meaning of Christmas and songs that were fun to sing and listen to. From memorizing lines to rehearsing songs, the entire process felt sacred, like we were preparing a gift not just for the congregation but for God Himself.

And then there was caroling as a child . Every December, groups from the church would bundle up and head to local nursing homes to sing Christmas hymns. It was a humbling, heartwarming experience to see the smiles of residents who often didn’t have visitors. The songs were simple, but their impact was profound, and there was something deeply fulfilling about spreading a little joy during what could otherwise be a lonely season for some.

Christmas Eve services were a big part of our Christmas tradition. The stillness, the reverence, the candle lit service of the familiar readings of the Christmas story from the book of Luke—it all felt so important. I can still picture the warm glow of candlelight filling the sanctuary during the singing of the Christmas hymns. It was a moment of awe and connection, a reminder of why we celebrated in the first place. We were all about to go off and celebrate with our separate families, but for that moment with our voices rising together in unison we were all a close community celebrating together.

But now, for me, all of that is gone. Leaving the IFB community changed the way I experience Christmas. It’s not that I don’t still find joy in the holiday season—I absolutely do—but there’s an undeniable gap where those traditions used to be. Decorating my home with my family is enjoyable, but it is not the same as the camaraderie of decorating the church with dozens of others. Watching holiday movies or singing along to Christmas carols is one of my favorite things to do. And while I still attend Christmas Eve services at a different church, the experience feels different from what I knew all of those years. The people around me are kind and welcoming, but it’s not the same deep-rooted community I grew up with.

Over time, I’ve started creating new traditions. I’ve discovered the beauty of a quiet Christmas morning, sipping coffee by the tree while reflecting on the year. I’ve found joy in hosting small gatherings with friends, making space for authentic connection without the pressure of perfection. And while it’s taken time, I’m beginning to see that Christmas isn’t about where or how you celebrate—it’s about the love, peace, and joy you carry with you, no matter where life takes you.

Still, there are moments when the ache of what’s been lost resurfaces. I think that’s part of the process—learning to hold space for both gratitude and grief. While the traditions I once knew may no longer be part of my life, they shaped who I am and how I celebrate today. And as I continue to navigate this new chapter, I’m reminded that Christmas, at its core, is about hope—a hope that remains, even as the seasons of life change.

This gap is more than just nostalgia—it’s a reminder of the relationships and shared experiences that were intertwined with my faith. It’s not just about missing the activities; it’s about missing the sense of belonging, the feeling that I was part of something bigger. For years, Christmas was inseparable from the church, and without that framework, I’ve had to learn how to rebuild my holiday traditions in a way that feels meaningful to me without the church.

Finding Faith Following Fundamentalism · Lifestyle

It Was Never About “Her” But Always About Me

July 25, 2024January 26, 2025 LauraJoli LookingJoliGood2 Comments

Why Her? 6 Truths We Need to Hear When Measuring Up Leaves Us Falling Behind by Nicki Koziarz | lookingjoligood.blog

Several years ago, I participated in a Bible study using the book Why Her by Nicki Koziarz. The book focuses on the often painful struggle of comparison and provides insights to help women overcome this challenge. While I am generally a content person, different circumstances at that time made me particularly vulnerable to comparison, and I found myself constantly measuring my life against those around me.

At the time, the book was helpful. It offered valuable perspectives and practical advice that provided temporary relief and moments of clarity. However, I have come to realize that the real turning point in my struggle with comparison was not just the insights from a book but removing myself from the environment that was causing so much turmoil in my life.

The high-demand community I was part of created a culture of scrutiny and judgment, which significantly contributed to my feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt. I have written in a previous post that you cannot get well in the same toxic environment that was making you sick. Removing myself from that environment was a crucial first step in my healing process. It allowed me to gain perspective and start prioritizing my own well-being.

Reading my posts it may sound as if I am blaming all my problems on the religious community I was a part of, and while the environment was a factor, it was merely a catalyst for deeper issues. To begin healing, I had to confront and address these underlying problems and take responsibility.

WhyHer Nicki Koziarz | lookingjoligood.blog

Comparison is an internal issue that cannot be fixed with external solutions. True contentment comes from within and requires addressing the underlying insecurities and beliefs that fuel comparison. No amount of external validation or changes in circumstances can fully resolve this internal struggle. It takes introspection, self-compassion, and a shift in perspective to overcome the habit of comparing ourselves to others and find genuine peace and satisfaction in who we are.

Wherever you go, there you are—and if comparison is rooted within you, it will follow. Changing your surroundings won’t silence it; only shifting your mindset and finding contentment in your own journey can truly set you free.

Now, I am content not only with the choices I have made to create a healthier, more positive life, but also with who I am internally and externally, flaws and all. Looking back, I realize that the struggle was never about “her” or anyone else I compared myself to—it was always about me. By focusing on my own choices and well-being, I have found a sense of peace and fulfillment that comparison could never bring.

Finding Faith Following Fundamentalism

Top Ten Lessons I Have Learned In Finding Faith Following Fundamentalism

July 18, 2024July 9, 2024 LauraJoli LookingJoliGood2 Comments

Last year on July 18, 2023, I posted my first installment in my series called Finding Faith Following Fundamentalism. To be honest, I was so nervous about opening up and posting about my personal growth and decision to leave the church and beliefs that I held for my entire life. At the time I had no idea what the perception or push back might be. Don’t get me wrong, I am not delusional enough to think that this blog would have any major reach, but it still took courage for me to be vulnerable enough to put my thoughts and feelings out into the ether of the internet. Opening up about personal struggles and growth isn’t easy, especially knowing that my words could potentially be seen and judged by others. However, the act of sharing my story, no matter how small the audience, was important to me.

I realize some of you may be new to this blog and wondering what exactly I mean by “Find Faith Following Fundamentalism.” Or maybe you’re interested but don’t want to read a year’s worth of posts. To save you time, I’ve summarized all the posts I’ve shared over the past year into the top ten lessons I’ve learned. (Links are included at the end if your interest is piqued and you want to read more in-depth.)

1. Healing Takes Time

Healing from the scars of fundamentalism is a gradual process. I’ve realized that time and distance are essential for healing wounds. Speaking from a place of healing, rather than raw pain, has allowed me to share my story with more clarity and compassion.

2. Faith is Fluid

Faith, I’ve learned, is not static but dynamic and evolving. This past few years have shown me that it’s okay for my beliefs to change and adapt as I grow and learn. Embracing this fluidity has allowed me to develop a more nuanced, deeper, and resilient faith. Life is not black and white and my faith based beliefs don’t have to be either.

3. The Power of Questioning

question everything | lookingjoligood.blog

One of the easiest parts of being in a Fundamentalist religion is not having to think for yourself. The rigid views tell you what you are supposed to believe and how you are supposed to think. Questioning long-held beliefs was daunting at first, but it has proven to be incredibly liberating. I’ve come to understand that questioning is not a sign of weak faith but rather a path to deeper understanding and growth. Embracing curiosity and critical thinking has enriched my spiritual journey.

4. Embracing Authenticity

I’ve learned the importance of being true to myself. Breaking free from fundamentalism allowed me to explore and define my own beliefs, independent of rigid doctrines. My growth has been about discovering what truly resonates with my own beliefs and morals, leading to a more true and fulfilling spiritual life.

5. The Importance of Grace

Grace Requires Nothing Of Me | lookingjoligood.blog

Grace has been a recurring theme in my reflections through out this process. Extending grace to myself during moments of doubt and uncertainty has been essential. Grace requires nothing of me! Recognizing that I am a work in progress and allowing myself the space to grow and evolve has been a significant lesson. Extending grace to myself in turn has caused me to be more gracious to those around me.

6. Finding Community

Navigating this path alone would have been challenging. I’ve learned the value of finding and connecting with a supportive community that understands and respects my journey. Whether through online communities, podcasts, books, or in person conversations, sharing experiences with others who have undergone similar transformations has been incredibly validating and comforting.

7. The Beauty of Empathy

Empathy has been an important aspect. Understanding that others may have different perspectives and respecting their view point, even if they diverge from mine, has been important. I have discovered the beauty of letting go of judgment, which has been important in building connections and creating mutual respect.

8. Strength in Vulnerability

Sharing my journey has required vulnerability, which I’ve come to see as a strength rather than a weakness. Fundamentalism often promises certainty, but true faith allows for growth and questioning. Opening up and admitting when I’m struggling was (and still is) a big step for me. It shows that I am strong enough to face my doubts and open up to new opportunities and possibilities.

9. Growth

I’ve learned that every struggle and every moment of doubt is an opportunity for growth. Though I will always continue to grow and learn, I am now trying to see challenges as stepping stones toward a deeper faith and fuller life.

10. Gratitude for the Process

Above all, I’ve learned to be grateful. Every step, whether joyful or painful, has contributed to my growth. Embracing change and seeking truth has a transformative power!

And here is one extra lesson for free. Time and Distance Makes a Big Difference!

Over time and with some distance from difficult situations, I’ve personally found that things do get easier. The weight of emotions lessen, and healing begins. Stepping away physically and emotionally and gaining perspective plays an important role in finding relief and strength. While everyone’s situation is unique, the saying “it gets easier with time and distance” holds some truth.

I shared this poem in my first Finding Faith Following Fundamentalism post. I would like to share it again today because it is still just as true today as when I first shared it.

Growth Lies In Discomfort

In breaking free, I found my voice,
Leaving fundamentalism, my choice.
Some may be upset, emotions may rise,
I share my truth, despite the cries.

For growth lies in discomfort, in open debate,
I embrace the challenge, I will not hesitate.
With understanding, to shed light.
With empathy, I seek to unite,

In sharing my story, my purpose is found.
Though reactions may vary, I hold my ground,
I now speak from a place of relief
My wounds have healed with renewed belief.

Here are links to some of my favorite posts from the last year:

Finding Faith Following Fundamentalism

Speak from the Scars Not the Wound

The Consequences of Being Forced to Make Black and White Choices in a World of Filled with Gray Nuancen

Question Everything!

You Just Want Freedom to Sin…

The Pressure of Perfection Growing Up Fundamentalist (Grace requires nothing of me!)

You Cannot Heal In The Same Toxic Environment That Made You Sick: Ten Tips To Go From Merely Surviving To Thriving

Sure, If That’s What You Want To Believe, Go For It…

Kindness Doesn’t Mean Weakness and Being Rude Doesn’t Imply Strength

The Power Of Taking Responsibly For Yourself

Unraveling the Impact

Does It Ever Get Easier? Do Time and Distance Make a Difference?

What is Behind the Façade?

It’s Not Me, It’s You! What’s The Deal With Hyper-critical People?!

For God Hath Not Given Us the Spirit of Fear, But The Church Definitely Has (Part 1)

For God Hath Not Given Us the Spirit of Fear, But The Church Definitely Has (Part 2)

Finding Faith Following Fundamentalism

What If Churches Did Exit Interviews

July 14, 2024July 9, 2024 LauraJoli LookingJoliGood3 Comments

What if churches treated departing members as valued stakeholders in their community rather than as a lost cause?

What if exit interviews would become a standard practice, much like they are in the corporate world. When a member decides to leave, they would have the opportunity to sit down with church leadership to discuss their reasons openly and honestly. This could encompass a wide range of topics, from theological differences and personal spiritual growth to issues related to community dynamics or dissatisfaction with the church’s direction.

What if the church would approach these interviews not as a mere formality but as a chance for genuine reflection and improvement. Actively listening, seeking to understand the departing member’s perspective and experiences. The goal wouldn’t be to convince them to stay but to learn from their insights.

Imagine if churches took this feedback to heart, using it as a catalyst for positive change. If patterns of discontent or issues with church culture were identified through exit interviews, leadership could address them proactively. Doctrinal concerns could be discussed openly, leading to more inclusive and understanding theology. If people were leaving due to feeling marginalized or unsupported, the church could work on creating a more compassionate and inclusive environment.

Ultimately, such a practice could help churches evolve and adapt to the changing needs of their congregation. It could encourage a culture of accountability and transparency, where the voices of both current and former members are heard and respected. It would be a powerful step towards ensuring that the church remains a place where people’s spiritual journeys are nurtured and respected, even if they choose a different path.

I have heard more than once from the pulpit, “If you don’t like it, there’s the door.” Perhaps if instead churches had the attitude of embracing departing members as valued stakeholders in their community rather than dismissing them as a lost cause, there wouldn’t be a need for many exit interviews after all.

Disclaimer:It’s important to acknowledge that this is my opinion based on my own life experiences. I fully understand that there are individuals who find genuine fulfillment and happiness within religion and the IFB community. People have diverse experiences and perceptions, and some may genuinely enjoy and benefit from their involvement in the IFB. I may disagree, but unlike what I experienced while in the IFB I do not intend to diminish or invalidate those positive experiences but rather seeks to highlight the complexities of personal perspectives and their role in shaping our understanding of the world.

Finding Faith Following Fundamentalism

The Shape of My Body is Not a Moral Failing

July 8, 2024 LauraJoli LookingJoliGood4 Comments

While working on a different post, my mind kept coming back to the thought that the shape of my body is not a moral failing. Let me explain… For years, I internalized the belief that my worth was tied to my appearance, influenced by societal standards and the rigid expectations of the religious community I was once part of. This led to constant self-criticism, punishing myself with excessive exercise for my perceived flaws, and a relentless pursuit of an unattainable ideal.

I fully believe that had I remained in the Independent Fundamental Baptist (IFB) community I was a part of, I never would have made these positive changes in my way of thinking. The rigid expectations and constant scrutiny would have continued to shape my self-perception, trapping me in a cycle of self-criticism and shame.

Being part of a high-demand fundamentalist religion, such as the IFB, profoundly shaped my perspective on beauty standards and my body. In these types of religious circles, strict and often unrealistic ideals about physical appearance are enforced, rooted in rigid interpretations of modesty and morality. This environment can create a deeply ingrained sense of body shame, judgment, and self-criticism.

Within these high-demand communities, the shape and appearance of one’s body can be scrutinized as a reflection of moral and spiritual standing. Adherence to specific dress codes and behaviors is seen as evidence of one’s piety and commitment to religious principles. This can create an oppressive atmosphere where any deviation from the norm is judged harshly, leading to a persistent internalization of body shame.

Stepping away from the high-demand religion has allowed me to see that the shape of my body is not a moral failing. Our bodies are diverse, influenced by genetics, health, and a host of other factors that have nothing to do with our character or spiritual worth. Equating body shape with moral value is a flawed perspective that only perpetuates harmful judgment and exclusion.

Rejecting these restrictive beauty standards and embracing body positivity has been crucial for my healing and self-acceptance. It involved challenging deeply ingrained beliefs, celebrating the diversity of human bodies, and learning to love myself as I am. By shifting the focus from rigid conformity to appreciating the uniqueness of each individual, I have learned I can combat the damaging effects of body shaming and promote a more inclusive and compassionate way of thinking.

This mental change hasn’t been easy. It involved unlearning deeply ingrained beliefs and confronting the internalized shame that stemmed from years of conforming to external expectations. But with each step, I’ve grown stronger and more compassionate toward myself. I’ve come to realize that my value isn’t determined by my appearance but by who I am as a person. Our bodies, in all their diversity, deserve respect and kindness.

No act of Kindness is ever wasted | lookingjoligood.wordpress.com

Learning to accept my own body’s perceived flaws has made it easier for me to be kind to myself and, in turn, others. By embracing my imperfections, I’ve cultivated an internal empathy, allowing me to appreciate the uniqueness of myself and others without judgment. This shift in perspective has made me a more compassionate and supportive person, which everyone around me benefits from.

True beauty comes from authenticity and self-acceptance, not from adhering to an unrealistic and narrow set of standards. Everyone deserves to feel confident and valued, regardless of their physical appearance. The shape of my body is not a moral failing; it is a natural and unique expression of who I am. By recognizing this, I have been able to let go of the guilt and shame imposed by unrealistic beauty standards. Embracing my body as it is has allowed me to focus on what truly matters: my health, my happiness, and my overall well-being.

Looking Joli Good

Kindness is beautiful!

Category: Finding Faith Following Fundamentalism

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