My Reaction to the Documentary ‘Death of the Pastor’s Wife’ on Netflix

Last night, my husband and I watched the new Netflix documentary, “Death of the Pastor’s Wife.” It brought up many thoughts and feelings from my time being raised in a high-control religious organization that Rolling Stone once called a cult.

So today, as I sat down to write this blog post, part of me wanted to share something that happened in a church 18 years after I left the high-control org…something that made me run for the hills from a different church I’d started to deeply love. Because of how I was raised, I’ve become very alert to red flags of religious abuse—direct or indirect—and the sad truth is that it’s everywhere.

As someone who loves Jesus, watching the amount of distortion applied to his teachings and other Biblical passages in order to wield power, channel hate, and tap into greed is devastating.

So I sat down thinking I’d write the story of what happened not too long ago.

Maybe the world should know.

And maybe they should.

But I’m not going to tell that story today. Mostly because as I sit in this chair, in the wake of watching that documentary, I feel worked up about the events that happened in my own life—the events which I felt the urge to share about. A little angry. Indignant. And writing something about a specific person/organization in a state of anger and indigence usually isn’t a wise choice, even if the topic at hand is true or important or worthy of these emotions.

Which then got me thinking…maybe that’s the truth I want to write about today. That we live in a world where everyone can have their voice heard—which, in some ways, is wildly important. But we also live in a world where because everyone can have their voice heard, words are put into the universe without the necessary thought behind them…and that’s not always such a great thing.

Maybe at some point I’ll tell my story of the somewhat recent church situation, but I need to give it more thought.

I need to figure out what my goal is. Why would I be telling it? It’s easy to say I’m telling it as a warning to others! To keep pointing toward to the truth of Jesus’ teachings by exposing the modern Pharisees!

But when I pause and really consider why I felt like writing today, it was simply to vent. To tell the world what happened because it’s been a burden of hurt in my life, of frustration about the state of Western Christianity, of fear for my kids’ understanding of God…and maybe putting it out there would somehow vindicate me from those burdens.

Of course, it wouldn’t. And my own vindication is not an honorable or productive reason to do much of anything. It certainly wouldn’t produce peace.

Now, I’m not going to say that the only path toward peace is forgiveness alone—though I do deeply believe in forgiveness—because there’s also peace to be found in justice and advocation. I don’t want to silently harbor pain, which could result in other people experiencing the same thing because I refused to do anything about it in the name of forgiveness.

At the same time, I do think it’s more powerful to speak out when the motive can be separated from self-satisfaction. There are plenty of circumstances where this isn’t possible, or perhaps isn’t the right move. However, there are plenty of circumstances where it is. And that’s the thing I wanted to shed light on today.

With communication now at our fingertips, how much more often are we compromising relationships and even important messages because we don’t give space to our thoughts?

We’ve all seen a message get lost in the delivery, which is a tremendous pitfall of instant transmission. (As would be the case if I delivered an essay about the church situation right now.)

No less a pitfall is the way we’ve lost the gift of truly letting things go. (Again, not saying that certain things need to be let go…but in some cases, yes.) I read this line in Whistler by Ann Patchett this morning:

“It’s a luxury not to know what happened to the people you were once in love with.”

How much easier would heartbreak be if we didn’t see their photos on social media or hold the ability to text them? In the same realm, what a luxury would it be to not be able to tell someone (or the world) what you’re thinking the second you think it? Or if you had to communicate with a handwritten letter that would be delivered outside the apex of the emotional storm?

In many cases, I think we’d just let the emotions and the words along with them drift away. Not because of sweeping things under the rug, but simply because part of being human means experiencing conflict…and there are times it’s wiser to simply accept that part of life and just move on.

Even if plenty of time has passed, there’s still the matter of taking emotional inventory before publishing any words. Unfortunately, I see a lack of this all the time, be it in social media posts, personal texts, or highly-broadcasted essays and videos. Not only does it cause extreme discomfort for readers, but it doesn’t produce anything productive. Is the relationship better? Is the message clearer? Is the cause more compelling?

Emotions are a wonderful thing. They can also be a tremendous tool for writing and speaking. But they can’t be the crux of the message.

No matter how well we think we’re hiding them or how inspiring they’ll be, our deeper intent for personal vindication will be on display to everyone but ourselves…and the impact will be lost in the weeds of emotion.

Highly emotional reflections are best saved for private journals where writing through the feelings does produce helpful insights…and also potentially saves a lot of regret.

I want to reiterate that this isn’t my appeal to stuff down our feelings or never get to the root of pain we’ve experienced. Nor is it a vote for silence over championing what’s right, even at the risk of our reputations.

On the contrary, I hope we can recognize the power of our words. That we can use our emotions to make positive change. That we can use our emotions to create camaraderie and understanding and exposition. We can use them for compelling stories, profound writing, and life-changing revelations. But timing matters. Not only because of the literal timing, but because giving space to our thoughts allow them to grow deeper, more nuanced, and deliberate.

It’s in the wake of that space that we can have confidence that what we’re saying really matters.