My grandmother died in 1989. If there were ever a person of strong faith and conviction, it was Nany. All alone she reared her three children, including my mother, after the suicide of my grandfather. She never gave up, never stopped believing, never lost faith. For her, death was merely a step into a better place. She didn’t fear it. Her faith kept her at peace, motivated her to care, and provided constant hope. She was always actively doing her part while she trusted God to do his. God’s love seeped through every pore of that marvelous woman, who cheered up just about everyone she touched. Much of my own faith came from watching her and hearing her talk about a loving God who loves his children.
At Nany’s funeral, the minister told of one of the frustrations my grandmother had to endure: an audit by the Internal Revenue Service. The IRS went to a lot of trouble to make sure that someone who made every bit of eight thousand dollars a year paid her fair share of income taxes. While others were hiding millions of dollars from the federal government, special agents were hard at work on the case of Pearl Russell, making sure the country would not be shorted a few hundred dollars by a sweet old lady in Athens, Texas.
At issue was Nany’s large deduction for charitable contributions. The government could not believe that a woman making so little could give 35, and some years 40, percent to the church and still have enough money left over to pay her bills. The IRS finally backed off when she dug out of the attic all the canceled checks to television ministers, radio preachers, and her local church. Agents did not understand it, but they were convinced that she had given every penny she deducted.
My grandmother not only gave away almost half of her income, she paid off her car loans early, paid off her mortgage, and still had enough money left over to bake her special pies for hurting people. Nany was an amazing woman of faith; it seemed that no matter how much she gave away, she still was provided with enough to live comfortably. What little she could do for God, she did. She did it because of a real faith in God, not a faith motivated by the idea that if she gave she would become rich. She knew she would never have a lot of money. Neither did she give because she hoped to buy her way to heaven. She had taken care of her place in eternity years ago. No, she gave because she wanted to give back to God a portion of all he had given her. Her pure motives set a great example for all who had the privilege to watch her.
There was nothing toxic about Nany’s faith. She never gave to a particular minister, but always to the ministry, such as to a children’s home or to a project to feed the homeless. When she gave a dollar, she knew how that minister was going to spend it.
At least she thought she did.
Some of the individuals to whom she gave her money were not so admirable. Their toxic faith robbed my grandmother of the great blessing of knowing her money had been used to further the kingdom of God. They took her money and spent it on themselves and their big plans, schemes that had nothing to do with my grandmother’s desire to tell the world about God’s love or to feed and clothe orphans. Some of those ministers that she so faithfully supported wound up in jail, divorced their wives, were arrested for indecent exposure, or fell into other public sin. They proclaimed a faith on television or over the radio, but they lived something else. They didn’t shrink from asking my grandmother and others like her to sacrifice their food money so they could buy jet fuel to fly to Palm Springs for a weekend getaway. What they did was dishonest, unfair—and very human. The kind of faith they lived looked radically different from the one they proclaimed on the public airwaves.
These unfaithful men and women who spent Nany’s money put more faith in themselves than they did in God. They relied more on their manipulations than on God’s providence. They were more concerned about their own comforts than they were for the people who gave them money or for those whom the donations were intended to help. They built big empires for themselves while my grandmother turned off her heater at night so she might be able to save a few dollars and therefore give more. Their faith was toxic. It poisoned many who trusted them, and it distorted the view of God held by many who watched as these media ministers fell from grace. As a result, many today believe all ministers are charlatans and out to fleece the flock. These cynics have derived a toxic, unhealthy view of faith from the toxic examples they saw in the media.
Unfortunately, media ministers are not the only ones who poison faith. Faith can be tainted from many other sources. Perhaps the loss of a child causes a mother to abandon her trust in God, since she thought he would protect her baby from the evils of the world. Maybe the early loss of a parent left someone feeling abandoned and desperately searching for the care and nurture they believe an uncaring God robbed from them. A business failure, a broken relationship, the death of a wonderful friend—all can change the way hurting people view God. Roots of bitterness and unresolved anger are allowed to poison their faith, causing them to turn away from God and never return.
Still others manifest their toxic faith in more obvious ways. Feeling unloved by God—maybe due to an early incident of child abuse—they try to earn God’s love. They believe that if they work hard and put in enough effort so that everyone notices their dedication, they might win favor with God. Of course, it is not a conscious effort to win God’s favor. They believe they are doing what any godly person would do. When the church doors open, they are there—not because they want to be there, but because they are driven and feel extreme guilt if they don’t sacrifice family, friends, and themselves in service of the church. Their faith is toxic, poisoned by trauma or a desire to work their way to heaven. And so what should be a source of strength and hope becomes an addiction, trapping the toxic believer in painful obsessions and compulsions.
The toxic faith of others is used to avoid the realities of life. These individuals expect God to work miracles at their beck and call, as if he were a genie. They seek a personal magician, not the Creator of the universe. Rather than face up to the needs of a sick child who needs extensive (and expensive) medical care, they insist on healing prayer alone … and allow the child to die. Others spend long hours in prayer for a failing marriage, while steadfastly refusing to seek counseling aimed at mending marital wounds. They expect God to do for them what God may be waiting for them to do for themselves. In fact, they are not looking for God, but rather are searching for relief and a means to avoid the pain they need to face. They are addicted to a toxic religion that allows them to live in a fantasy world of quick fixes and easy solutions. Rather than growing deep in their faith, they grow weak in their ability to cope. Always looking for the religious high, these wounded faithful are not far from functioning like heroin addicts searching frantically for their next fix.
Those who possess a toxic faith have stepped across the line from a balanced perspective of God to an unbalanced faith in a weak, powerless, or uncaring God. They seek a God to fix every mess, prevent every hurt, and mend every conflict. They and others like them need to answer the following questions:
These are the issues for Toxic Faith. Most likely, you have dealt with at least one of these issues in your search for truth about life and the God who created it. You may have grown frustrated in your search and now claim there is no God. Your faith may have become so poisoned that you felt you had to get away from it altogether just to survive. You may be left wondering if God exists, and if he does, what real faith in a real God would be like. It is my desire that you find answers here. I want you to find hope for a return to faith that can add meaning to your life. I especially hope that you will find the reality of true faith and be able to separate that from those who model only a caricature of faith. I want to help you throw out that toxic faith and bring you back to the real thing.
My grandmother had the real thing. I’m grateful for her example of trust in God through the tough times and the good times. She exemplified God’s love, not just when it was convenient, but when she did anything. The moment she died, Pearl Russell was able to walk through the Pearly Gates because of a faith that would not be distorted by events, circumstances, pain, or false teaching. She made it to a place where toxic faith does not exist.
I pray that, like her, you will be able to sift through your pain, circumstances, and our cruel world to find the God who meant so much to my grandmother and now to me.
Good and Bad Spirituality
If I were asked for a yardstick to discern good from bad spirituality, I would suggest three criteria to be detached from: material gain, self-importance, and the urge to dominate others. Unfortunately, much of what is labeled spirituality in America today moves in the opposite direction. It means using the names of God and Christ to promote one’s own importance, material gain, and right to oppress others.1
—ROSEMARY RADFORD RUETHER, PROFESSOR OF THEOLOGY