Editor’s Note: This article is part of an ongoing series with The Outpatient Chaplain about religious trauma and profiles Marcy’s journey through—and ultimately out of—a high-demand religious system. Each chapter builds on the next, tracing the seeds of discontent, the grief of “losing religion,” and the courage of rebuilding life on new ground. To follow along and ensure you don’t miss the next installment, subscribe to the blog today. (Note: check your spam folder to ensure your subscription is confirmed).
The Search for Belonging: How Vulnerability Opened the Door to a High-Demand Religious System.
From loneliness and family struggles to a newfound sense of being “seen” by God, Marcy’s college years marked the beginning of her journey into a rigid faith system.
It all began rather innocently. Marcy’s upbringing was unstable and difficult. She wasn’t raised in a religious home, and her earliest recollections of her mother were of her always being sad. Her mother—who had endured her own childhood suffering—also struggled with a substance use disorder that created isolation and pain for Marcy.
To cope, Marcy, now 75 years old and a grandmother, put on the mask of “Miss Congeniality.” While she was popular in school, she still felt very lonely and like she never belonged.
So, when Marcy went to college, still seeking a place to belong, she pledged a sorority. One day, a sorority sister noticed her sadness. Marcy recalls that her new friend not only really saw her but also presented a way out of her pain:
“She shared the Four Spiritual Laws, which is a little booklet—I assume they are still out there—published by Campus Crusade for Christ. And it very clearly lays out the steps to salvation, beginning with, ‘God loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life.’”
Marcy lights up even now when remembering that revelation: “I still remember the feeling that I was somehow known by God! This was out of my realm of knowledge or understanding,” she said, pointing back to her family system, where she hadn’t experienced being seen or belonging to a place or a people.
That was the beginning of Marcy’s journey into a high-demand religious system. She soon joined the Baptist Student Union, met Don (a kind and wonderful man who shared her growing religious interest), and eventually married him. They settled in a small Southern town. At first, Don couldn’t match Marcy’s religious fervor, but that changed when they attended their first Gothard Seminar (at Marcy’s nudging). “That changed everything for our lives,” Marcy explained. “Because Don heard his role explained in great detail.”
She went on to share that Don, a natural leader and rule-follower, thrived within that paradigm. As for herself, Marcy admitted: “I wanted a list of how to be the right kind of mother, the right kind of Christian. So, we fell into that.”
Marcy was committed to giving her children what she and her sister did not have growing up: a mother who could be emotionally present for and attentive to her children. The Gothard system presented an illusory roadmap for just that and so much more—at an expense Marcy could not imagine in those earlier years.
Belonging and Control: Life Inside the Gothard System and High-Demand Religion
How promises of certainty and community came at the cost of Marcy’s voice
Sidebar: The Gothard Seminars: Understanding IBLP and High-Demand Religion
The Gothard Seminars, created by Bill Gothard and taught through the Institute in Basic Life Principles (IBLP), rose to prominence from the 1970s through the 1990s. Marketed as “Biblical life training,” these seminars drew hundreds of thousands of attendees across the U.S. and heavily influenced the Christian homeschooling movement.
Core Teachings:
- Strict umbrella of authority hierarchy: God → men → women → children
- Comprehensive “rules” for Christian living, covering everything from finances to music
- Rigid gender roles, with wives and daughters expected to submit to male authority
- Warnings that breaking these principles could bring disaster or God’s disfavor
Why Families Joined:
The seminars offered structure, certainty, and belonging for those seeking a clear roadmap for family and spiritual life.
Why They’re Problematic:
Over time, the system was revealed to foster authoritarian religious control, fear, and even spiritual abuse. In 2014, Gothard resigned after numerous allegations of sexual harassment and abuse. Today, IBLP is cited as an example of how high-demand religious systems can cause deep and lasting harm.
Back to Marcy’s Story
If the name “Gothard” sounds familiar, it may be because of the docuseries Shiny Happy People: Duggar Family Secrets (2023), which exposes in painful detail the religious trauma created by Gothard’s teachings.
Though Marcy and Don had by this time found a wonderful community of faith who shared their Biblical beliefs, they really found their stride within the teachings of the IBLP. For years, they thrived under its rigid framework: defined gender roles, clear expectations, belonging in a faith community, and absolute certainty about salvation: “I took away there’s only one right way to be Christian, and this is it.”
As important as salvific certitude were the themes of belonging, feeling safe, and spiritually bypassing pain. And especially for Marcy, one of the most appealing aspects of IBLP was the invitation to leave her painful past behind:
“I felt a freedom, sadly, to really try to forget my past—forgetting what lies behind, and pressing on, you know. It’s [the apostle] Paul’s words about forgetting what lies behind, pressing on toward the goal. It’s the idea that all that’s happened before—it’s washed away.”
And as someone who never really experienced a sense of belonging, the Gothard-inspired community provided this emotional need for Marcy, too. She still lights up when talking about the ways the community genuinely cared for one another and the friendships that she made. She is quick to affirm the positive communal aspects of this way of life. To this day, Marcy is still connected to some members of this community, a testament to Marcy’s character as well as to the value of relationships within such systems.
Marcy also recalls the sense of safety and predictability she felt within this structured system, both in the church and the homeschooling group, and she names it as something that is appealing to congregants who are struggling with an identity or lack of direction
“A lot of it had to do, I think, with how capable one felt. I did not feel capable of leading or making decisions. I did not. And so the idea of being under some kind of authority—that I understood at the time was my husband and the church—felt safe. It felt predictable.”
But eventually, a moment arrived in Marcy’s life that accentuated the absence of something she hadn’t even realized was missing.
The Weight of Authority: Marcy’s Struggle in a High-Demand Religious Faith System
Homeschooling, strict gender roles, and Gothard teachings revealed cracks in her obedience and sparked quiet resentment
It became one of those quietly sown “seeds of discontent” that Marcy would reflect on later in life. Her own voice—what she felt, what she wanted—felt subdued. The realization hit her one day when Don, after listening to a popular fundamentalist Christian radio program on his commute, came home and declared that if their children were to become “godly human beings,” they must be homeschooled. In a very real sense, as a stay-at-home mom, this responsibility would fall squarely on Marcy’s shoulders.
In Gothard’s authoritarian paradigm, what Don said went. Within this prescribed umbrella of authority, the husband stood under Christ, the wife under her husband, and the children under both. Don was charged with protecting and providing, Marcy with submitting and supporting, and the children with obedience.
And so, she did it—though very begrudgingly. For Marcy, this meant expanding her role as a devoted homesteader to include teaching their children full time. She recalls: “I was astonished when he came home and made the announcement, which is what it feels like in hindsight. No real discussion, again, because it’s his job to decide for the good of the family.”
While she complied, she began quietly sowing resentment toward Don, a grief she still carries today.
Marcy and Don’s world was already insular. They attended a small Bible-based church, though not everyone in the church chose to homeschool, and even fewer adhered to Bill Gothard’s teaching. It seemed that tighter, more insular circles formed, often defined by stricter adherence to fundamentalist ideals—the “only right way to live.” Though she had her doubts about becoming a homeschooling mother, Marcy wonders now if she and others who chose this path may have conveyed an air of Christian “fundamentalist elitism” within their church community.
Marcy would say now that she struggled in her new role as homeschool teacher. She resented it from the start and soon felt overwhelmed: managing homesteading chores, raising the children in the “right” way, fulfilling her duties as Don’s wife, and now coordinating daily homeschooling lessons. She worried she could not keep up with the fervor and energy of the other mothers in their homeschooling circle. Eventually, she confided her struggle and deep discontent to Don, who, perhaps surprisingly, sympathized with Marcy about abandoning this ideal. Subsequently, they placed their oldest child in public school.
Cracks in the Illusion: Marcy’s Awakening Within a High-Demand Religious System
Exclusive faith, spiritual disillusionment, and a breaking point that changed everything.
For the most part, Marcy thrived within her high-demand religious system, which provided for her a sense of community and belonging, a concrete guidebook on how to be the “right” mother for her children and dutiful wife for her husband, and a circle of friends. All of these roles gave Marcy’s life meaning and purpose. On the surface, they substituted for her identity, as Marcy had yet to find her own internal sense of self within a system that told her who to be and how to act.
But along the way and over the decades, she quietly inventoried things that were said and beliefs that were unsettling within her spirit. Eventually, these would culminate in a literal life-or-death decision for Marcy. (Subscribe to ensure you receive Part Three to hear the rest of Marcy’s story).
When asked about the fraying of the tapestry of her belief system and community, Marcy recalls one moment with piercing clarity:
“I think [it was] when I realized that people in my church used the language of, ‘We’re the only saved people in town.’ Some would talk about the Methodist Church down the street as being, ‘the frozen chosen,’ or the sort of derogatory ways we began to talk. I think I fell into that in a way because it’s back to being ‘chosen’—this idea that I’m part of this. I’m part of this exclusive bunch of people who have this corner on ‘the Truth.’”
But she noticed that even though part of her felt comforted and secure in belonging to such an elite group, there was also a deep uneasiness within her spirit about it: “I guess I began to question, Are we really the only chosen people? I did know other people outside that circle—not many—but some, and I kind of went, Does this mean they’re not going to make it [to heaven]?”
And then the unimaginable happened. Don—Marcy’s beloved sweetheart, esteemed deacon of the church, and devoted family man—was diagnosed with lymphoma. Despite the fervent prayers of their church and an unflinching belief that their prayers would be answered, Don died at 38 years old, leaving Marcy widowed with four children.
But shortly before Don’s death, Marcy recalls a moment with him that tore the fabric of their tightly woven worldview. Don shared something of a deathbed confessional with his wife: “Do you think this is it? This life—do you think this is it? Stalwart members of the church, the nice house, the cars, my advancement at work. Is this all?”
Unable to fully process this moment and what Don could be implying about the paradigm to which they had fully committed, Marcy now reflects upon Don’s confessional words: “You know, there’s just no telling what was going on in his mind. But there was something. He was realizing things long before the rest of us.”
Questions for Reflection
- Have you ever felt those quiet “seeds of discontent” in your own faith journey?
- Where have you noticed authority shaping your choices or silencing your voice?
- How do you listen for that inner voice, even when it feels uncertain or small?
- What might one step toward freedom or authenticity look like for you?
A Gentle Invitation to Connect
Marcy’s story reminds us of the inner courage we possess and just how strong we are. If her journey resonates with you, I invite you to share your reflections, comment below, or reach out. Sometimes the first step is simply naming what you’re carrying.
If you’re longing for a safe place to explore your own story and reimagine what spirituality looks like after leaving church or a high-demand faith system, I welcome you to connect with me personally, Chaplain Brynn White of The Outpatient Chaplain. Visit my website and schedule a consultation call—I’d be honored to journey with you on your path toward freedom, healing, and wholeness.
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