TW: Religion, fundamentalism, homophobia, transphobia, mental health, abuse.

I’ve been advised this numerous times when I was telling loved ones I was converting to Christianity. I’ve also given this advice to loved ones as well when religion etc. is concerned: Don’t get sucked into anything.

When I first became a Christian, the first film I decided to watch with religious themes was Rose Glass’ Saint Maud.

An odd choice, you might think, if you’ve seen the film. Finding your faith and deciding to walk this path is a good thing, surely? So why on earth would I choose to watch a film so dark and disturbing? A chilling tale and character study into an isolated, traumatized young woman, who falls into the trap of when faith goes too far?

Aside from wanting to watch this film for a while after seeing a breakdown video by Ryan Hollinger, that’s exactly why: When faith goes too far.

Let me explain. In this film, it’s abundantly clear that Maud (spoiler alert) is very ill mentally, and in desperate need of medical help after experiencing a horrifying trauma. This same trauma is why she turns to her very dark interpretation of the Christian faith, which leads to equally horrifying, tragic consequences. It is a brilliantly made film that leaves you with a lot to think about. Especially so after its heart-jolting, sobering climax, which left me in stunned silence.

Studying different religions and cultures has always fascinated me, and still does. With that study comes discoveries of the good, the bad, the ugly, and the outright strange. Along with core teachings and scriptures and traditions, comes learning about those who will use their faith for harm, either to themselves, others, or both. There’s always that one, eh?

The fundamentalists, the hate-mongers, and the cults. The ones we’ve all seen on Netflix documentaries or trending YouTube videos. The cults that hide amongst everyday life and the horrendous abuse that goes on within. The abuses of power by predatory priests and pastors in plain sight and the cover-ups that follow. The con men and televangelists that demand money in exchange for salvation, then purchase luxury private jets while their vulnerable, often desperate patrons go without basic needs.

I don’t blame you if you’re reading this thinking, “But Violet, I’d never get sucked into that crap.” But the truth is, it can happen to anyone, as any former cult member or escapee from fundamentalism will tell you. And I learned that quickly as a convert in lockdown.

As a new convert to Christianity in March 2021, during one of the lockdowns in the UK, I didn’t really know where to start for resources outside of the Bible, which I was already reading. How will I practice my faith? What denomination am I? Would I have a denomination at all? As it was a lockdown, I couldn’t visit any church at all, let alone on a Sunday. So aside from the Bible and my Christian mother to talk to on the phone (a convert herself, and no two Christians are the same) my only other resource was the internet.

This is the main point of this post, friends. The internet can be a wonderful tool to connect with friends and build networks, as I have with my writing. But we all know too well how scary and dark a place the internet can be. A Wild West of the digital age, if you will. So you can imagine how wild that digital Wild West can get when religion becomes involved. Especially for new, green-around-the-gills religious converts trying to find a place to belong.

I knew religion and the internet was a mix of water and electricity. I experienced it firsthand from sharped-tongued usernames on a pro-choice Twitter post I made, more than happy to tell me how wrong I was about, well…everything. But when I started searching searching for resources? YIKES. I know I’ve said in the past it was a minefield, and I meant it. It was a minefield. Most of what I came across would seem ok in the beginning, and then…there it was.

Tirades about how progressives are all wrong, how the LGBTQ community is an evil organisation and “groomers” after your children. Being bisexual, and the victim of a grooming attempt when I was seventeen (by a former teacher who was cisgender and heterosexual, by the way) you can imagine how I took that one. Spoiler alert: not very well. Then there was how secular music was of the devil, Democrats were of the devil, rainbow flags were of the devil, women working was of the devil, secular therapy was of the devil, medication was of the devil, EVERYTHING was of the devil!

Other tenets were that women shouldn’t wear trousers (or pants, for my American friends). That the contraceptive pill causes abortions (it doesn’t), that abortion is child sacrifice to a deity mentioned in the Old Testament, and that Satanic rituals happen in clinics before the abortion takes place (I wish I was making this up). And don’t forget how you must, I repeat, must, be completely subservient to your husband in all ways, no matter how vile and abusive he becomes. And that if you didn’t follow any of the above, you would go to Hell.

So, uh…yeah…quite the rabbit hole overall!

It was exhausting, and that was just the tip of the iceberg I came across on the first few pages of YouTube alone. Also, it felt even further isolating to someone already, for all intents and purposes, in a form of isolation with the lockdown. Let’s also not forget the isolation of being queer in a religious space, where you could be excluded regardless of how pious (or pious in their eyes) you are. It definitely made me think “Is this what it means to be a Christian?” and being disgusted. What I saw in the Gospels, what I saw of Jesus, was nothing like this.

If you know me well enough, you can imagine how all of those extreme takes have never, nor would ever, fly with me, religious or not. So, you can imagine the sheer relief I felt when I found resources on Christianity, or fellow Christians online, where toxic theology wasn’t the order of the day. It felt like actually finding the needle in the haystack.

When lockdown restrictions were lifted, I was able to visit a proper, physical church. A while later, I actually plucked up the courage to actually go to a service and met with regular churchgoing folks, and my feet were planted firmly back on the ground. Looking back, I can see how easy it is for people to get sucked down conspiracy-laden rabbit holes. Amongst the physical and ultimately mental isolation that came from the pandemic, it is terrifyingly easy. Experts on cults, religious and political extremism often say organisations and conspiracies target the vulnerable and isolated. And let’s face it, how many of us were just that during the pandemic?

That’s why I watched Saint Maud immediately after choosing to be a Christian. It was a sorted of self-imposed, Artaud-esque shock treatment to remind myself to keep my feet firmly rooted in reality. Thar, and observing that while fictional, and that Maud didn’t get drawn into a cult or end times echo chamber, it showcased in a very real way how blind faith and when taken to real extremes, can inflict more pain on an already vulnerable person desperately seeking purpose.

The film expressed an isolation in Maud that so many of us related to with the isolation surrounding mental health and lockdown. Those words echoed in my head as I saw Maud’s grim, destructive interpretation of God which is reminiscent of the cults and fundamentalists I’ve seen on documentaries. Don’t get sucked into anything.

I’ll never forget the look of empathetic shock on a kind vicar’s face when I told him of my online findings. A new convert asking in a bewildered, “please tell me this isn’t true” tone, if it was really like that for your average, everyday Christian? The misogyny. The vicious homophobia and transphobia. The marginalization of pretty much every demographic you could think of, depending on who was talking. And of course, the emphasis on forcing religion down peoples’ throats, then claiming persecution when people, understandably, don’t like that.

It was a, “Oh God, you found those nutcases. I’m so sorry”, look. I gauged from his reaction that this wasn’t the first time he heard this, and certainly wouldn’t be the last. He advised me when looking for verifiable religious sources, online platforms like YouTube weren’t the best of places to start. His advice echoed and confirmed my first hand experience of trying to find a needle in a haystack, that there was a whole lot of vitriol and content verging on, or fully in, tin foil hat territory. It echoes advice I’ve heard from people of all religions, traditional and modern thinking alike. Online is a minefield. Go straight to the source material.

Being around regular people was a much-needed, healing balm for the distressing craziness I found online. They try to live the Gospel as much as they are able to (let’s face it, none of us a perfect) and are from very diverse backgrounds, which I’m very thankful for. They welcome all (and mean it) and I’ve found a good, supportive community and dear friends with them. They supported me in my baptism and confirmation, and continue to be a loving, supportive influence since then.

When you’re new, even if you’ve been observant for decades, but especially when you’re new, it’s imperative that you are vigilant. Not just with others who may be looking to take advantage, but with yourself as well. It’s easy when you’re so full of joy to jump head-first into your faith, and then find yourself subscribing to some very fringe ideas because of i.e. certain preachers on the God Channels, or a church acquaintance lending you a few books with some very problematic takes between the pages.

One thing I learned very quickly was that just because it says “Christian”, doesn’t necessarily mean it comes from a good place. There are good and bad people in every faith, and it’s all too easy to cast critical thinking to the side if you’re not careful.

So as I was given these words, I’ll now pass them on to you.

Don’t get sucked into anything.