Religious Trauma and the False Holiness of Pain

There’s a silent agreement many of us made without realizing it. Not because we were weak. Not because we were wrong. But because somewhere—often in the early shaping of our spiritual lives—we were taught:

“If it hurts, it’s holy.”

“If you suffer, it means you’re devoted.”

“If you endure enough, you’ll be worthy.”

Pain As Redemption

These ideas didn’t always come as threats. Sometimes they came as stories: A savior on a cross, a prophet in exile, a mystic in a cave. We watched the faithful suffer and believed that suffering was the evidence of their faith.

And so many of us, especially those with deep devotion, began to carry that pattern. Not consciously. Not eagerly. But deeply. We began to equate pain with goodness, struggle with meaning, sacrifice with sacredness.

Suffering As A Badge of Honor

Pain as holiness is not the only face of religious trauma. Another version involves being constantly told we are bad and wrong and sinful and that we must earn everything: love, peace, heaven, God’s approval, our family or society’s approval. In this case, suffering is punishment and we may come to wear it like a badge of honor—proof of our rebellion when we finally walk away.

So let’s explore the false holiness of pain—not to dishonor any path to the Divine, but to liberate those who are still hurting in Its name. Because what if your suffering isn’t required? What if your pain is not proof? What if the Divine doesn’t need you to endure—but to live?

Understanding Religious Trauma

Religious trauma isn’t always fire-and-brimstone or overt abuse—though for some, it is. It can be subtle, systemic, a pattern whispered into your nervous system before you knew how to resist it.

Religious trauma refers to the physical, emotional, or psychological response to religious beliefs, practices, or structures that overwhelm an individual’s ability to cope and return to a sense of safety. Religious trauma includes experiences within religious communities that are stressful, degrading, dangerous, abusive, or dis-empowering.

While not yet recognized in the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, mental health professionals increasingly acknowledge religious trauma syndrome (RTS) as a form of complex post-traumatic stress disorder that emerges from prolonged exposure to harmful religious environments.

Religious trauma is often shaped by:

• Fear-based teachings and environments
• Authoritarian leadership and control
• Rigid doctrine and black-and-white thinking
• Rejection of the body, pleasure, or individuality
• Internalized shame, guilt, and chronic feelings of unworthiness
• Sexual dysfunction resulting from unhealthy sexual views
• Compromised decision-making skills and critical thinking abilities

These traumatic religious experiences can manifest as:

• Persistent anxiety or panic around doing things “right”
• Chronic self-doubt or fear of divine punishment
• Deep discomfort around rest, joy, or abundance
• Difficulty trusting your intuition or making independent decisions
• A nervous system stuck in fight-or-flight around spiritual concepts
• Recurring nightmares, sleep issues, or eating disorders
• Compulsive perfectionism and lack of healthy boundaries

This isn’t about one religious tradition. This pattern appears across many religions and spiritual systems, including:

• Mormonism – which often equates worthiness with moral perfection
• Judaism – where ancestral suffering can become part of spiritual identity
• Islam – where trials are sometimes framed as proof of Allah’s testing
• Buddhism – where renunciation and asceticism can distort embodiment
• Christianity – where the crucifixion is often misinterpreted as proof that pain is redemptive

Even outside organized religion, we find similar patterns in New Age or spiritual communities that glorify shadow work, enslavement-as-discipleship, and “lessons through suffering.” According to recent research, around one-third of adults in the United States have experienced religious trauma at some point in their lives.

The False Holiness of Suffering

How did pain become sacred? Across generations, cultures, and traditions, we’ve been told that to draw close to the Divine, we must suffer. That to be pure, we must sacrifice. That to be holy, we must deny ourselves.

While many of these teachings were originally meant to convey devotion, humility, or surrender, something dangerous grew in their shadow: a belief that pain is the path, that suffering is the offering, that the more you hurt, the more you’re seen by God.

This belief—often unspoken but deeply lived—has shaped millions of lives. We see it in the Christian ideal of martyrdom, where sainthood was achieved through physical torment or brutal sacrifice. We see it in Mormon teachings of perfection and worthiness, where even small missteps could lead to spiritual exile.

It is present in Jewish historical memory, where generations of persecution became intertwined with spiritual identity and destiny. We also witness it in Islamic narratives of divine testing, where difficulty has been framed as a measure of devotion. In Buddhist asceticism, nearly everything to do with the body, the world, and the terrestrial, is renounced to transcend desire.

None of these traditions are inherently wrong. They each carry profound truth and beauty. But the problem arises when suffering becomes the standard by which we measure devotion. When pain is equated with purity. When joy or self-care or fulfillment are viewed as indulgent. When ease feels like failure.

Naming the Distortion Behind Religious Trauma

This is the distortion: Suffering is not sacred by default. Pain is not proof of your love. And the Divine does not need you to bleed to be beloved.

And yet, for many of us—especially those with mystical, devotional, or highly empathic souls—this lie lodged itself early. It became a way of life:

• The helper who never rests
• The healer who absorbs everyone else’s pain
• The parent who sacrifices their needs to be “good”
• The mystic who rejects pleasure in the name of purity

These aren’t just personal choices. They are cultural echoes, religious trauma patterns, internalized vows we may not even remember making. And until they are named—they cannot be healed.

But once we bring this distortion into the light, we can begin to walk a new path—a path where devotion doesn’t mean denial, where wholeness doesn’t require wounds, where the Divine is not a test to survive but a presence to return to.

Martha’s Story: When Suffering Isn’t Holy

Martha came to me exhausted—not just from her symptoms, though they were many: multiple sclerosis, arthritis, chronic pain, nervous system collapse. But from the invisible weight of enduring all of it with grace because something in her believed she had to.

In a psychic healing session, I saw it immediately:

“Her system is trying to prove something with enduring the pain so valiantly,” I wrote in my session notes as I navigated the energies her spirit was showing me.

Her pain wasn’t just physical. It was spiritual performance, a subconscious attempt to earn love through suffering.

As we moved deeper, an old vow revealed itself. In another life, Martha had lived in a convent—devout, sincere, aching to be good. She had prayed, night after night, for God to give her a cross to bear. Not out of self-hate, but out of longing. “If I suffer,” she believed, “I will be worthy. I will be loved. I will be close to the Divine.”

And so, lifetime after lifetime, her soul answered that prayer through illness, attack, and disempowerment. Her current incarnation was simply the latest version of the same story.

But here’s the miracle: As soon as we named the pattern, as soon as her body heard the truth, as soon as she said, “I revoke that vow”—everything changed. We cleared the entities feeding on the vow. We dissolved the contract. We restored her nervous system with gentleness, not force. We called her soul home through wholeness, not hardship.

And in that moment, she realized: “The Divine doesn’t want my pain. It wants my presence.”

Since that session, her healing has been unfolding—not through struggle, but through safety. Not through proving, but through permission. For the first time in lifetimes, she says she feels free.

How Religious Trauma Patterns Show Up in Modern Lives

You may never have taken vows in a convent. You may not consciously believe that pain is holy. But if you were raised in—or even brushed against—spiritual systems that taught self-denial, sacrifice, or unworthiness, you may still be carrying these imprints.

Here are some ways the pain-equals-worth pattern can show up in daily life:

You feel guilty when things are good. When you finally rest, laugh, or receive—some part of you tenses, as if ease is indulgent, as if joy is suspicious. You may feel like the “real work” only happens when it hurts.

You attract chronic difficulty and don’t know why. No matter how much healing you do, life feels heavy. You find yourself in repeating patterns of illness, loss, or spiritual trial. It’s possible your system still equates struggle with significance.

You sabotage ease and success. The moment something flows—money, love, healing—you unconsciously pull away. Not because you don’t want it, but because part of you believes it shouldn’t be this simple.

You reject your body, pleasure, or desire. Even in spiritual practice, you may feel more “pure” when you’re fasting, denying, or transcending. You may see your needs as weakness, your longings as temptation, your flesh as something to escape.

You fear divine judgment more than you trust divine love. Even if you believe in a loving God, you might still flinch when things go wrong—as if you’re being punished, as if there’s some invisible test you’re failing.

If any of this feels familiar, you are not broken. You are not behind. And you are not the only one. These patterns are ancient, but they are not eternal. They can be named. They can be healed. And you can return to the truth that was always yours:

The Divine does not demand your suffering. It invites your becoming.

Reclaiming Sacredness Without Suffering

If you’ve been carrying the pain-equals-worth story, know this: You likely didn’t choose it consciously. It also can’t control you once you take your power back.

This is where healing begins—not in fixing, but in remembering what was always true. Here are a few ways you can begin to shift the pattern, even today:

1. Speak a New Devotion

Words hold power. Say aloud, now or in your own time: “I release the belief that suffering makes me worthy.” “I am no less sacred when I feel joy, rest, or pleasure.” “I am loved without having to prove it.”

Let these be prayers of reclamation. Not to beg the Divine—but to align with it.

2. Invite Ease into the Sacred

Wherever you’ve practiced devotion through discipline, try adding gentleness. If you meditate—try lying down. If you pray—try whispering softly to your own heart. If you journal—write with your favorite pen, wrapped in a warm blanket.

Spirituality doesn’t have to hurt to be real. Your joy is sacred. Your comfort is sacred. Your pleasure is sacred.

3. Honor Aliveness as Worship

Begin to explore how the Divine expresses itself through your being, not just your striving. Let beauty move you. Let your senses wake up again. Let yourself feel the sun on your skin, the laughter in your chest, the way your body still wants to dance—even after all this.

This is not spiritual bypass. This is embodied devotion. You are not leaving God behind. You are meeting God in the world, in yourself, in your breath, in the permission to be alive and well. Because the Divine doesn’t want a martyr. It wants you—to be whole, radiant, and free.

The Path to Healing Religious Trauma

Healing from religious trauma can benefit from professional support, especially when symptoms are severe or persistent. Trauma-informed therapy approaches that can be effective for religious trauma include:

• Trauma-focused cognitive behavioral therapy
• Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR)
• Somatic experiencing and other body-based therapies
• Group therapy with others who have similar experiences
• Spiritual counseling with trauma-informed practitioners

When seeking help for religious trauma, look for mental health professionals who understand both trauma and religious contexts. Some practitioners specialize specifically in religious trauma syndrome and can provide targeted support.

The journey of healing from religious trauma is not about rejecting spirituality altogether. Many survivors find that separating harmful religious practices from authentic spiritual connection allows them to reclaim a relationship with the Divine that feels safe, nourishing, and life-affirming.

You Are Already Worthy

If you’ve carried suffering like a badge, like a cross, like proof—this is your permission to lay it down.

You don’t have to earn your right to joy. You don’t have to prove your goodness through exhaustion. You don’t have to bleed to be blessed. Because you were never meant to be sacrificed. You were meant to be seen. Held. Loved. Alive.

The Divine you came from is not waiting to test you. It’s waiting to meet you—in your breath, in your softness, in your wild and wondrous aliveness.

You are already sacred. You are already worthy. And you are already home. You don’t have to hurt to be holy. You never did.

If you’re struggling with religious trauma, please know that help is available. Connect with qualified mental health professionals who understand the unique challenges of recovering from harmful religious experiences. Your journey to healing is valid, and a life free from religious trauma is possible.