If you’ve experienced religious abuse, putting your story into words can feel overwhelming. You may worry about saying too much, not saying enough, or revisiting painful memories. Please know this: your story matters, and you are not alone.
This guide, created by a member of our survivor community, is here to help you turn your experience into a written account—whether for your own healing or to share with others.
Take what helps you, leave what doesn’t, and move at your own pace.
1. Start with Safety
Before you begin, check in with yourself:
- Am I in a safe environment to write?
- Do I have support if I get triggered? (This could be a friend, counselor, or grounding practice.)
- Can I take breaks without guilt?
- Am I in the right head or heart space to tackle this topic?
2. Focus on What You Want to Share
You don’t need to tell every detail at once. Start small:
- A single memory or moment
- A feeling or realization you had
- A brief timeline of what happened
If it helps, consider a bulleted list where you can capture memories as they come. From here, you can begin to develop your thoughts as well as the through line of your narrative—the message you’re wanting others to hear or know.
3. Use Guiding Questions
If you’re stuck, these prompts might help:
- What first made you realize something was wrong?
- How did the situation impact you emotionally or spiritually?
- Who or what helped you begin healing?
- What memories are crystallized through the lens of trauma now that you’re aware?
- What do you want others to understand about your experience?
- What patterns have emerged since leaving the Stone?
- When did you realize you were protecting the system instead of yourself or others?
4. Give Yourself Permission to Write Messily
Your story does not have to be polished or perfect. Write first with your heart, then go back and edit with your head. Just let your voice be heard.
5. Take Breaks and Practice Care
Writing can be exhausting. At its core, it’s an excavation. If you notice yourself feeling overwhelmed:
- Pause and take a breath
- Step away and ground yourself (stretch, drink water, move your body)
- Return only when you’re ready
- Reach out to a close friend or family member to process verbally
6. Remember: You Are in Control
This is your story. You decide what to include, what to keep private, and how it is shared. There’s no right or wrong way to tell it.
One more thing:
Consider if you would like to form community through others contacting you in response to your story. If so, please add the contact information you feel comfortable sharing publicly through your post, and include that at the end of your story.
Don’t worry, if you don’t choose to share contact info, people can still “reach out” through the comments. You can also come back and add a comment later with contact information if you choose.
There is no pressure nor moral benefit or loss to sharing or not sharing contact info. There is no wrong choice, only options.
Example Story
Title: (Name)’s Story
Hello, My name is (name) and I was a (position/role held) at The Austin Stone for (length of time, or loose dates).
In my time there, I experienced/witnessed/participated in (type of abuse). I worked with (names or roles of leaders involved) doing (tasks/work/relationship) and (description of relevant events).
If you’d like to connect to discuss what happened, to receive care for the harm I caused, or just to be in each other’s orbits, you can contact me at (email, phone number).
Example Story 2
Hi, my name is Valerie and I was a partner and volunteer from about 2008-2015. One of the ways in which I volunteered was the green room hospitality. This meant that every month I had a few Sundays where I would prepare meals for the worship team and pastors. My husband and I did this for the downtown campus as well as the St Johns campus—usually the evening services.
One evening Matt was preaching about his standards. Meaning, he was sharing about how he valued his marriage to the extent that he would not be in any location with any woman for any amount of time if it was just them. Things happen when men and women are alone. I was in the audience, listening, and at the time thought nothing of his claims because at the time we were very new to the church and being partners.
But then once the worship team hit the stage at the end of the night, I exited quietly to begin breaking down the greenroom. I passed my husband in the hallway, and he told me that he was dropping a few things in the car and would be back soon. I needed to use the restroom, but decided to work on cleaning up the mess to expedite the process. I walked into the green room not thinking I would run into anyone, and started organizing what was left, cleaning the counters, packaging the leftovers for the band, etc.
And then I heard a throat clear.
I looked up, and froze. It was Matt. He’d been in the room the entire time, sitting in a chair, reading his bible. He never looked at me. Never acknowledged me outside of the cleared throat. My heart started racing in that moment, and even then I knew that reaction felt out of place for what was actually happening: a man sitting in a room reading when a woman walked in to start to clean. The only problem was that man had just stood on stage and told hundreds of people that he was never—ever—alone with a woman who wasn’t his wife and now here we were…alone.
I fled. I ran and hid in the bathroom next to the greenroom until I could hear my husband return, and while he and I laughed off that moment, the feeling of dismissal was so apparent and so strong.
At least, that’s how I felt. For the rest of the night, Matt said nothing to myself or my husband. He didn’t look at us. He just stayed rooted to his seat, reading his bible, until the band came in to collect their things and said their goodbyes.
I know this story feels inconsequential to some of the others shared, but it was a monumental moment for me in adjusting my mindset to Stone’s expectations. The elevated heart rate wasn’t indicative of the moment, but it was my body letting me know LOUDLY that I was not safe. I wish I would have had the foresight to know what was coming, or I would have taken that opportunity to leave the church and never look back.