A God Complex

One of the easiest ways to spot a spiritual abuser is to recognize in him or her a certain "God complex." That is, like any toxic individual, they will want to have a measure of power and control over you and your life (and your faith and your fellowship), and they will exercise this power in subtle and sometimes not-so-subtle ways. 

They may start by suggesting to you that certain things going on in the church really aren't your kind of things - you shouldn't try to get involved. You shouldn't try to volunteer. You shouldn't really be interested in those things because hey, they know you, and it's just "not a good fit." 

This can be anything from a certain small group, a community service project, a ministry within the church, a volunteer role, even something as simple as a friendship with someone you've identified as a possible point of contact within the church - someone who you know would make you feel less lonely there. 

In doing this, the spiritual abuser sets himself up as someone you're supposed to trust, someone who knows you and knows your life better than anyone and is using his discernment to keep you from making big mistakes that might blow everything up. Because hey, you've blown some things up in the past all by yourself, haven't you? 

Bam. He's now your confidant. He's your best friend. He's the one you turn to to help you make your decisions so that you don't make those mistakes. And once he's got you coming to him first, then it's not a big step before he has you coming to him exclusively. And now, you're his. 

He can guide you however he wants. 

He'll usually start with this: by telling you what kinds of things you can bring to either him or the church and which kinds of things you can't. 

Maybe you're a person who believes in the power of prayer. Maybe you're someone who reads the bulletin every week and faithfully prays for the things listed there, even the things you think are the small things. Or sometimes, the silly things. Then, something big happens in your life, and you think - I want us to pray over this. I believe in prayer, and I believe God is the one who can answer this. 

So you ask for prayer. 

But the spiritual abuser won't let you have prayer. It's misguided, he tells you, to ask for prayer for this. You don't need to ask for prayer for this. You, he says, are just trying to draw attention to yourself. But hey, he'll pray with you. Yes, that's a good idea. The two of you can pray together and not have to put your life on public blast. 

So you pray. And the next time you ask for prayer, it's the same story. But a time or two after that, he stops praying with you, too. Your life, he says, is such a wreck. It makes his head spin. It's clear that you don't have the kind of faith you need to have to turn your life around or truly give it to God, and if you aren't praying powerful prayers for your own self, then it's foolish to think that anyone else could pray powerful prayers for you. 

All of a sudden, your confidant, your savior, your friend has shattered your faith. Your life is a mess. It's too big of a mess for God. It's only by the goodness of the spiritual abuser's heart that he even puts up with you. And it's a good thing he does because if it wasn't for him, you'd really be making an embarrassment of yourself. He's doing you a favor. 

Except...he's built a wall between you and God and told you that there's no way you can cross it. There's no way you can get back to God. You're going to need another savior. 

And...surprise...it's him. 

Just like that, with all the plaster of "good intentions" smeared all over it, you belong to your spiritual abuser. (So he thinks.)