The Existential Free Fall
There is one question that has been playing on my mind for a few months now:
“what exactly was it about altering my Christian beliefs that made it feel like such a free-fall?”
The simple, yet very layered answer is that fear deeply embeds itself in fundamentalist Christian beliefs and, in turn, becomes the bedrock of our being.
Growing up in the Evangelical Charismatic Movement of the late 1900’s and early 2000’s in Australia meant that fear was woven into the fabric of daily life and faith. Fear of missing the rapture, fear of eternal conscious torment, and fear of being left behind weren’t just abstract theological concepts; they were deeply rooted in every aspect of existence. These beliefs didn’t merely colour my perceptions of the world, they profoundly shaped my identity, relationships, and mental and emotional health.
Fear as a Constant Companion
The threat of hell and the vivid images of fiery pits, eternal isolation, and unrelenting torment haunted me from a young age. Church services were filled with sermons detailing the horrors awaiting anyone who strayed from "the truth." As a child I absorbed these messages like a sponge, feeling the weight of eternal punishment press down on me. As a teenager, watching films like “A Thief in the Night”, church performances that highlighted the torture that awaits anyone who fails to believe, and reading books like the Left Behind series only further solidified the fear that at any moment, the rapture could happen, and I might wake up to find my family gone, left to face the wrath of the world alone.
This fear wasn’t limited to a few moments of panic; it became a constant companion, one that shaped how I navigated the world. Curiosity felt dangerous. Questioning or even thinking about deviating from prescribed beliefs could have catastrophic, eternal consequences were very real in mind. Fear became the lens through which I viewed myself, others, and my way of being in the world.
Identity Under Siege
When identity is constructed around fear, especially the fear of eternal punishment and torment, exploration or intellectual independence feels like a direct threat to survival.
Growing up in this environment, I never allowed myself to question or doubt the beliefs handed to me. My thoughts were so tightly bound to the doctrines that promised safety from eternal suffering that I didn’t even consider exploring them. There was no tension between authenticity and conformity because I was completely immersed in conformity.
This suppression of any authentic questioning or exploration created a fragmented sense of self. My identity wasn’t mine at all; it was moulded entirely by the belief system I clung to for my own survival. Any thought of deviating from this framework felt not only like a betrayal of my faith but a threat to my very existence. This lack of freedom stifled any opportunity to discover who I truly was, leaving me disconnected from my own desires, thoughts, and emotions.
Emotional Health Eroded by Fear
Fear, when it’s at the core of a belief system, becomes a foundational emotional state.
The cognitive dissonance between being told that God was “love” but having that same “loving” God constantly threaten you with torment and separation if you didn’t love him back was too intense, and so I did the “right” thing and told myself that it’s just part of God’s mystery and justice. When in reality it was a belief that aligned more with a violent and abusive partner than with any kind of loving divine being.
The threat of eternal conscious torment wasn’t just a distant theological idea. It was something that loomed over everyday thoughts and actions. Missteps, whether moral, intellectual, or emotional, felt like they could lead to eternal punishment. This created a constant state of vigilance, where every thought and action was scrutinised, leaving little room for emotional exploration or vulnerability.
Some nights, I would wake up in terror because I had not said my nightly prayers, which always included some form of repentance for any wrongdoing I may have knowingly or unknowingly committed.
Living under such fear meant I couldn’t just "be"; I was always hyper-aware of whether I was doing, believing, or feeling the "right" things. This pressure extended to my emotions. If I was too happy, I worried that I wasn’t taking the suffering of the unsaved seriously enough. If I was sad, I feared that my faith wasn’t strong enough. If I was fearful, then I was concerned that my relationship with God wasn't personal enough.
My emotions weren’t mine, they were filtered through a belief system that prioritised compliance over authenticity; and the ammo for compliance was fear (even when shrouded in the language of love).
"Us vs. Them"
Another deeply ingrained belief was the idea that we were the "chosen" ones, the possessors of truth, and everyone else was lost, dangerous, or potentially leading us astray. This created a profound sense of isolation and fuelled an "us versus them" mentality that impacted every relationship I had. There was a constant fear of being separated from my loved ones in eternity, and this put the weight of others’ eternal destiny on my shoulders – yikes!!
Persecution and Hyper-Vigilance
Believing that persecution was always just around the corner added another layer of paranoia and defensiveness. The outside world became a place of potential threats, not just spiritual but physical and social as well. This hyper-vigilance, the constant anticipation of danger, took a toll on my mental health. I developed anxiety and a deep mistrust of anyone outside my own faith, always scanning for signs of persecution or spiritual danger.
Living in this heightened state of alertness mirrored the effects of trauma. Chronic stress, difficulty sleeping, and the inability to relax and just be present became my reality. The belief that my faith made me a target, both in this life and the next, was exhausting and isolating, cutting me off from the possibility of genuine, diverse relationships.
The Existential Free Fall
Stepping away from these deeply ingrained, fear-based beliefs felt like an existential free fall. So much of what shaped my identity, my understanding of God, the world, and myself, began to crumble. It was terrifying to let go of the safety net those beliefs had provided, even if that safety came at the cost of my mental, emotional, and spiritual well-being.
Without the rigid framework dictating who I was and how I should live, I felt untethered, vulnerable, and terrified of what this may mean for my future.
But this free fall, while painful, was necessary. It forced me to confront the fears that had dominated my life for so long. For the last 4 years I slowly began to ask the questions I had always been too afraid to ask, to explore a sense of self that wasn’t rooted in fear or the need for certainty.
The free fall for me was about unravelling long-held fears, rediscovering emotions I had buried, and rebuilding an identity grounded in authenticity and connection. While there are moments when I still feel like I’m falling, I’m held now by a sense of calm, a real connection with others, and a curiosity that makes space for our shared humanity.
For those still caught in the existential free fall, know that it’s okay to let go. It’s okay to question, to reach out for support, to doubt, to rebuild. On the other side of the fear is a life that’s more free, more whole, and more authentic than you can imagine.
Love never seeks to control but offers safety in the midst of uncertainty and a hand to hold when the free fall seems endless.
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