EvanGENITALS: The Purity Culture Movement

I was twelve years old when my parents sat me down in their room, disgust etched on their faces. I still remember the palpable tension in the air as I waited for them to speak. "You're the only one in the family who looks at this stuff." They declared matter-of-factly. The weight of those words was overwhelming to me. "Pornography has no place in this home, nor in the life of a Christian. You're disgusting. I can't believe you would look at this." they continued. They promised to let everyone in the family and our church community know about my "dirty little secret" if I proceeded down this path. In their eyes, my innocent curiosity was not normal behavior for a boy my age. According to them, it was a sin that would lead to humiliation and judgment. So, I did what any pubescent boy would do. From that moment on, I went to extreme lengths to hide my "extracurricular activities".

Growing up in the evangelical world, my life was a mixture of deep spirituality and profoundly stifling legalism. I grew up during the peak of evangelical "Purity Culture," a movement that instilled guilt and shame around all things relating to sex and sexuality. As I reflect on those formative years of my life, only now do I realize how these beliefs shaped my understanding of relationships & sex, leaving me with a deep sense of guilt and fear for years.

The Evangelical Church taught that sex was sacred. It was designed to be enjoyed between one man and one woman, and solely within the context of marriage. Anything outside of this context was considered sin, and unrepentant sin would ultimately lead to eternal separation from God and loved ones, and conscious torment forever in hell. And for most, there was no safe place to be transparent or receive guidance in light of these teachings. This was especially true if you worked for or served at church. In those cases, an ongoing habit of sexual "sin" would disqualify you from ministry. As a result, purity culture left myself and countless others, isolated and ashamed with the threat of hell looming overhead.

I can’t even remember how many times I went forward during altar calls at Christian conferences and camps over the years. The speakers at these events often provided a chance to recommit to following Jesus if you felt you had strayed from the path. I can't recall a single occasion when I didn't wholeheartedly embrace that opportunity, seeking prayer and forgiveness for my transgressions. I loved the Jesus I learned about growing up. I wanted to follow him with my whole heart. I was terrified of going to hell. But I also really enjoyed sex and everything I was discovering about myself. It became a relentless cycle of guilt and shame, as predictably, I would "fall" back into my sin within a few weeks or sometimes days after the spiritual experience.

Purity Culture robbed us of our humanity. It took what ought to have been a natural process of curiosity and sexual development, something to be celebrated, and painted it as perversion, an urge to suppress, and a temptation to flee at, literally, all cost. I remember these words of Jesus being cited in sermons about sexual sin, "If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. And if your right hand causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to go into hell." (Matthew 5:29-30). So...did this mean castration was on the table as a means to stop masturbating? No wonder these teachings bred so much trauma.

Purity culture made a lot of empty promises. It said that God had predestined one person for you to spend the rest of your life with. It said that, when you found this person, you would know beyond a shadow of a doubt. It promised that if you kept yourself "pure," your marriage and sex life would be blessed by God. It guaranteed that you're wedding night and all the sex you'd ever have with your spouse, would be "mind-blowing" and that you'd never be tempted to look for sexual gratification outside your marriage.

One insight I've gained in life is that harmful teachings, when given enough time, always manifest in harmful ways. We've witnessed this repeatedly in the aftermath of the purity culture movement. In purity culture, religion was prioritized over emotional or sexual connection. Many couples entered marriages based on societal expectations and norms, rather than authentic love and connection. This has contributed to high divorce rates among evangelicals. Among those who stay married, unsatisfactory sex lives are commonly reported. Additionally, many gay men and lesbian women were required to marry someone of the opposite sex to conform to the standards of purity culture. Then, there are the countless stories of Evangelical leaders' fall from grace due to sexual misconduct and infidelity. The harm of purity culture seems endless. Even Joshua Harris, the author of the influential book on purity culture, has distanced himself from Christianity and renounced his bestseller, "I Kissed Dating Goodbye" as harmful.

In hindsight, I'm grateful for the challenges I faced growing up. I'm grateful that I never could live up to purity culture's expectations. I don't mean to downplay the pain and difficulty of my journey, or anyone else's. For so many years, I felt like a failure, believing I would never be good enough for my family, the church, my future wife, or God. However, since stepping away from the church, I've gained a whole new perspective. I've come to understand that what were perceived as moral shortcomings in my sexual journey, were actually opportunities for me to explore my sexuality and grow in ways that my more "self-controlled" peers were closed off to. In a way, it kept me humble. It made me less judgmental of other people because I knew I had my own issues. It kept the door cracked open to the possibility that purity culture had got it wrong. And ultimately, it led to my rejection of the teachings altogether. Since then, my spiritual life, and my sex life, have never been more embodied, interconnected, and all-around better!

If any of this rings true with you, if you were guilted and shamed for your sexuality, you've got a place here. The American Heretics is deeply committed to building a community of open-minded people who fight for positive change while striving to live lives of love over fear and shame. Join our mailing list below! We won’t spam you, but we will keep you in the loop on new music, more of my writing, merchandise, events, and happenings within the community. Don't forget to sign up today!

American Heretic: Why I Left the Evangelical Church

For all of my life, the Church was my home. As a child of evangelicalism, I learned about the love of Jesus, showing kindness to others, and the value of community. My family was deeply involved in the local church, and faith was not something we merely practiced, but our identity. My grandpa was a pastor, my uncles followed in his footsteps, and my dad served as an elder in our local church.

I loved singing together in church. Music always moved me like no sermon ever could. Congregational worship music was a time in which the church embodied unity in a tangible way. There was something so powerful about a room full of individuals all lifting their voices in unison. For those 20 to 30 minutes each week, we were one.

I always had a love for music, though no one else in my family was musically inclined. I always loved to sing. By the time I was in junior high school, I was determined to learn guitar. In high school, our church's youth ministry became a place for me to spread my musical wings. I sang and played guitar as a part of the high school worship band every week. I loved it so much. I had found my calling.

For over a decade, I led worship music as a career. I was signed to a Christian record label where my songs were played on national radio and even reached the Billboard charts. But, just as my dreams were being realized, the weight of life was also setting in. There was a heaviness in the world, and I couldn't help but start thinking more critically about my faith in light of it all. I also began to notice changes in the Church environment. What once was a place of love and acceptance, had become a space of division and political fervor.

As I continued leading worship and engaging with the Evangelical community, I noticed a shift taking place. Sermons were no longer focused on the teachings of Jesus and often included political rhetoric. Evangelicals began to celebrate patriotism more than spirituality. Church leaders professed their support for political candidates, and I found it troubling that my faith tradition was being intertwined with political figures rather than the teachings of Jesus.

Church was no longer a place where the marginalized were cared for. Church was no longer a safe space to ask questions. It had become a place that championed power, status and money. And any pushback was seen as a threat to that power, status, and money. One specific instance stands out in my mind, in which I found this to be true. It became the catalyst that set me on a path to question everything I'd ever believed.

During the summer of 2018, I was at a weekly lunch meeting with three pastors. Every week we prayed for each other. This week I asked for prayer that God would give me peace and understanding. I shared with them about something I was wrestling with, something I didn't understand. I was brokenhearted because of a story that was circulating on the news. A volunteer rescue diver, in another part of the world, lost his life attempting to rescue a group of young boys who were trapped in a cave that flooded during a hurricane.

This selfless man was, statistically, probably not a Christian. Christianity is not widely practiced in his country. And I could not wrap my head around the teaching that he would be damned to hell for not believing the right thing. It seemed to me that he possessed an inner understanding of the message of Christianity, even if he'd never learned about Jesus. Most Christians in our country will never be in a position where they're asked to display such a self-sacrificial act of love. Many are content to warm a church pew on Sunday, give their ten percent, and go on about life week to week without allowing Jesus' words to make a real impact or change on them. "But Christians are saved because they believe the right idea and prayed the right prayer?" I asked.

When I shared these concerns that day and asked for prayer, one of the pastors responded, "Are you saying that there's another way to heaven apart from Jesus?" It's clear now that the real question was, "Are you saying that there's another way to heaven apart from our American Evangelical interpretation of The Bible?" But at the time, all I knew was that this was not a safe place to wrestle with doubts and questions. But the Pandora's box was already open and there was no stopping the questions. So, I wrestled with them alone, afraid of losing my job and my family's well-being if anyone found out.

A lot became clear throughout the journey of deconstructing my evangelical belief system. The walls the church builds, the lines they draw in the sand, the black-and-white theology, and the mindset of us vs. them are all branches of the same dying tree: powerful, wealthy, white church leaders whose main objective is holding on to their position of privilege & power.

White Christian nationalism is a belief system. It merges the Christian faith with a specific cultural and political identity. It emphasizes one particular version of Christianity. It prioritizes the interests of white, conservative Christians at the expense of others. This ideology leads to the exclusion of marginalized groups and a distorted understanding of Jesus' message of love, grace, and acceptance.

This nationalism had seeped into evangelicalism in a way that was imperceivable to most. Even many pastors were unaware of how deep-rooted the problem was. Nevertheless, it was eroding the foundation that held the church together. The Evangelical Church had aligned itself with a political ideology that stands in opposition to Jesus’ core teachings. As the Church continued to gather each week, singing the same old songs of unity in Christ, a deep divide had grown just beneath the surface, a divide between a majority who placed their national and political identity over the clear teachings of Jesus and a minority who would not conform. And it reached a major breaking point during the 2016 elections and the ascension of Donald Trump to the presidency.

Suddenly, this hidden darkness that had wormed its way into the Church was brought to light. "For there is nothing hidden that will not be disclosed, and nothing concealed that will not be known or brought out into the open." (Luke 8:17). How could Evangelicals unwaveringly support an egotistical, race-baiting, hate spewing, mysogynistic, billionaire who claimed to be a Christian, but couldn't quote a favorite bible verse and misstated the names of books of the bible? The answer: he promised to uphold and increase white Evangelical Christian power and status.

White Christian Nationalism is the "Original Sin" of America. Its seeds can be traced back to the colonial period. Settlers believed they were establishing a "City upon a Hill". They based this idea on their particular interpretation of scripture. And this worldview led to a sense of superiority regarding indigenous peoples and others who looked differently. Throughout American history, white Christian nationalism has resulted in exclusionary practices and policies. It has reinforced racial hierarchies and marginalized non-white and non-Christian people groups.

The Ideology of Manifest Destiny and the expansion of the United States in the 19th century saw a fusion of nationalism and Christianity. Protestant denominations played a significant role in justifying westward expansion, often framing it as a divine mission to spread the message of Christianity.

During the Civil war, both sides invoked Christian rhetoric to justify their causes. After the war, white Southerners use Christianity to promote the idea of a "Lost Cause," claiming that their fight was divinely sanctioned. This period also saw the rise of various Christian nationalist groups, such as the KKK, who sought to maintain white supremacy.

In the 1980s, organizations like the Moral Majority played crucial roles in integrating Christian values into the political sphere, emphasizing issues like abortion and same-sex marriage. It was upon these issues, and a promise to "make America great again," that the political right saw significant mobilization of white Evangelical Christians, culminating in the election of Ronald Reagan whose "tough on crime" policies and "war on drugs" had a disproportionately negative impact on non-white communities.

In 2016, Donald Trump ran his campaign, with great success, on the same promise to "make America great again". For many, this rhetoric did not hearken back to a golden age, but was seen as a nostalgic longing for a whiter, more Christian America and a cause for much concern. But the Evangelical Church at large, would hear nothing of this concern. The election of Donald Trump highlighted the influence of white Christian nationalists in American politics. The majority of Evangelicals supported him with much enthusiasm, seeing him as a champion of their values.

Here is my brokenhearted confession: I voted for Donald Trump in the 2016 elections. I was blinded by that same nostalgic longing for "simpler times" when things were "better" and when America was "the greatest country in the world". This vision of American exceptionalism had been spoon-fed to me from birth, through family, close friends, and the Church. I was unable to think critically. I was blind to the truth that America had never been great for everyone, and that there were always groups on the margins of society that America had not cared for or valued. However, when the time came, diving headfirst into the unknown became my act of repentance and an opportunity to make restitution for the way my blindness had negatively impacted others.

There is a reason the Church does not allow for space to process doubts and questions. For all the harm white Christian nationalism has wrought, it is unsustainable. It is a dying ideology. However, when so much power and financial gain is at stake, you can bet that the church leaders who stand to lose the most, will not go down without a vicious fight. Doubts and questions are the biggest threat to them losing that fight.

As I leaned into the unknown and earnestly sought answers about my faith, something unexpected happened. I found that so much of what the Evangelical Church deems "salvation issues" determining who is in and who is out, are not so black and white. For example, heaven and hell are concepts that are not clearly defined by scripture and that have historically been disagreed upon within Christianity. The same goes for atonement theories, sexual ethics, and so much more. In fact, the doctrine of the innerrancy of scripture is a very recent innovation and its affirmation has, historically, never been used as a benchmark of what it means to be a true follower of Jesus.

In other words, There is no historical or scriptural basis for the division the Evangelical Church has sown and the lines it has drawn in the sand. The intent is to propagate fear of the "other" and the ultimate goal is control. Vast amounts of money, status, and power will be lost without the ability to maintain that control.

But this stands in complete contrast with the Jesus of scripture. Jesus was poor. Jesus gave up power. Jesus was unconcerned with political and economic status. Jesus spent time with the marginalized, the tax collecters, prostitutes, drunks, and sinners. His heart was for the "least of these" and he taught and embodied unity. He said, "whatever you do to the least of these, you do to me." And the core message of Christianity is the concept of "enemy love," that Jesus willingly laid down his life for those who hated him.

This was the Jesus I learned to follow from my childhood, but he had gradually been replaced with the idols of power, status, and money. My heart was broken for a Church that had lost its way. I felt deep pain for those who were being marginalized, silenced, or excluded. And the more I engaged with that pain, the more I began to identify with the marginalized myself. The Church that I loved was no longer home. It had no place for someone like me.

In 2021, I made the difficult decision to leave the Church and a career I loved, a career that gave me a sense of meaning and purpose, that was my passion and my dream. I didn't make this choice lightly, but I could no longer align myself with a community that worshipped Trump and America over the teachings of Jesus. I could not find belonging in a community where questions were discouraged and dissent was seen as a threat. It was clear that my shifts in perspective and evolving beliefs would make me unfit to lead worship in the eyes of the Church. Most wouldn't even have considered me a Christian anymore.

In Evangelicalism, questioning beliefs or straying from traditional teachings will earn you the label of "heretic". But, I have come to understand that questioning and truth-seeking are vital parts of spiritual growth. Heresy is a refusal to accept the status quo—an invitation to explore faith more deeply. For me, leaving the Evangelical Church was not a rejection of faith but a step towards finding a more authentic expression of my beliefs.

As I moved away from evangelicalism, I began to explore different expressions of faith. I sought out voices and communities that emphasized love, justice, and inclusivity. I read books, engaged in conversations, and listened to voices that challenged the narrative I had known for so long.

It has been a journey of rediscovery—a chance to reconnect with the essence of faith apart from the chains of nationalism and political rhetoric. I have found solace in a faith that values compassion over division, and love over fear.

And when it comes to my love and passion for music, I have channeled my creative energy into what I call "Heretical Punk Rock". I've fully embraced the label of Heretic as the lead singer & songwriter for the band The American Heretics. Through blistering drum beats, larger-than-life guitars, and lyrics exploring the topics of white Christian Nationalism, politics, religious deconstruction, sexuality and more, I have rediscovered my musical and spiritual roots.

I hope to inspire others who feel lost or disillusioned within the evangelical community to seek authenticity in their faith journey. If any of my experience resonates with you, if you have felt marginalized and ignored by the Church, or by any group, whether political, religious, friend, or family, know that you are not alone. If you'd like to read more of my writing, listen to The American Heretics, and connect with a community of open-minded people who place love and unity over fear and division, please join the mailing list below. We won't spam you. I promise!

My journey out of evangelicalism has been filled with challenges, but it has also been a journey of growth and understanding. White Christian nationalism has had a profound impact on the church, altering its mission and message in ways that are truly disturbing for the future of our country and the world.

As I continue to navigate my faith, I hold on to the core teachings of Jesus—love, acceptance, and compassion. I believe that a faith embodying these teachings can change the world and reverse the harm of ideologies like white Christian nationalism. In the end, faith is not about political allegiance, nor is it about holding on to a false sense of certainty about a specific set of ideas or doctrines, but it is about embodying love in our everyday lives. If we do that, together we will create a more inclusive and loving world. And THAT is what Jesus taught.