Becoming a Critical Thinker: A Journey Through Faith and Fear
by Andrew Ecker
I grew up in the Pentecostal and Non-denominational Charismatic branches of Evangelicalism. Even though we were not overtly dogmatic in certain ways, our subculture and its unspoken assumptions quietly and covertly shaped my beliefs. I had friends from diverse religious backgrounds, so I understood a broad spectrum of Christian experience existed. Still, I didn’t realize my own perspective was limited—like an ant walking across an elephant, thinking the little patch under foot was all there was, unaware of the vast complexity, edges and contours of the beast beneath me.
It wasn’t until my early thirties, after becoming a social worker, that I began to truly develop healthy critical thinking skills. Therapy, lots of reading, and the heartbreak of leaving my church community became catalysts in this growth. Reflecting on our departure, we could finally see all the emotional costs of the darker sides of our upbringing. Understanding this transformation meant reckoning with the lack of critical thought in our environment—a kind of myopic apologetic that offered ready-made answers for everything.
The focus was always on defending “the truth”—as if truth itself were some blanket, catch-all category. Circular reasoning abounded, especially in the downplaying of the messy, human process of scriptural canonicity, cherry-picking of Bible passages, and an alignment with political partisanship and consumer culture. Eventually, I started to ask whether the “facts” I’d accepted were factual at all.
Codependency became a theme in my life—fed by years of black-and-white thinking, internalized scripts, and a compulsion to please others that kept me both silent and narrow. My journey into critical thinking began within the small context of my faith, then expanded outward into broader conversations, new perspectives, and, most importantly, a growing sense of self-confidence to question. It took nurturing a sense of safety in the midst of uncertainty. What began as cognitive dissonance, born out of moral crises, became a motivation to build a safe haven for curiosity.
It started by confronting how certain beliefs were cherry-picked and imposed onto scripture, recognizing logical inconsistency, and observing the elevation of arbitrary “rules.” Then, during the political and cultural storm of Covid and the rise of politically driven religious extremism, I saw even more clearly how my tradition’s theology wasn’t just unhealthy for me—it was causing real harm around the world.
Healing came as I moved beyond the internal guilt and shame cultivated by those cherry-picked, punishment-based beliefs. I learned to recognize and reject the “us vs. them” mindset and either/or interpretations, gaining the confidence to challenge not just myself, but also the external environment that perpetuated these ideas. I began to see the difference between love bombing and authentic belonging, and started to value intellectual honesty as a spiritual necessity.
Challenging harmful beliefs was essential. As a child, I’d internalized a deep fear—not just of danger, but of fear itself, seeing it as a spiritual enemy. Fear was never normalized or reframed as curiosity, until a therapist taught me otherwise. When I realized my fears were both normal and a vital part of imagination, the cycle of magical thinking was interrupted, and my trauma response softened. Giving myself permission to feel—even “negative” feelings—freed me to challenge the system and, ultimately, the subculture itself. Breaking away from our church allowed us to trace toxic patterns through every system we’d been part of, all the way to the “final straw” that fueled our physical separation.
Growing up, reason and rationality were not prioritized as valid epistemological tools. Allowing reason, logic, and facts to become integrated into my belief system changed everything. My faith became more enriched by uncertainty, the embrace of mystery, and a willingness to let go of unspoken assumptions and circular logic. I could explore theological ideas that valued reason as part of divine revelation and became less intolerant of other worldviews, more empathetic, more compassionate—the person I always imagined I could be. Rather than defending ideology and rules, my passion shifted toward genuine engagement and spiritual integrity.
Of course, this has been a long and arduous process. It started with questioning a strand of belief within my subculture and grew to questioning my entire faith tradition. For some, this kind of process leads to a complete shift in worldview. For me, I still hold to a Christian identity, but with a faith that’s far more integrated and thoughtful; I retain what’s good while being honest about what’s harmful. I see this as a process of maturing, and it’s helped me understand the subtle, unspoken inconsistencies in religious culture that can take years to unearth and heal from.
It’s not the obviously narcissistic leaders or Netflix-worthy cult stories that are always the most damaging—though those exist. It’s the subtle habits of mind, the lack of nurtured critical thinking, that does the deepest work. For me, it took healing, deep reading, questioning, and literal distance from the subculture to weigh the evidence and understand why so much of my tradition’s approach was unhealthy. Fear became curiosity—my deepest well of strength.
Ironically, it’s by questioning and thinking critically that I found myself becoming the kind of person I was always told I could be—but not in the way it was modeled. In choosing careful logic and honest questioning, the immaterial aspects of my faith actually deepened. Choice, consent, confidentiality, dignity, and humanity became more tangible, freeing me to see and love more clearly.
So, for those of us who long to change the world and nurture safety after religious trauma, it’s the gentle, persistent questions and empathetic challenges that open the door to greater integrity, dignity, and humanity—both within ourselves and in our communities.
About the Guest Author:
Andrew Ecker (BSW, RSW) is a social worker in the mental health field. He has worked for a mobile crisis unit, inpatient psychiatry, and currently works in single session therapy. He is also an alumni of the cult-adjacent Master's Commission program and spent time as a youth pastor. He has Bachelor's degrees in Criminology and Social Work. He enjoys reading and spending time with his family and many animals.
Disclaimer:
The views, thoughts, and opinions expressed in guest blog posts are those of the individual authors and do not necessarily reflect the positions of the Religious Trauma Network. We recognize that each person’s healing journey is unique, personal, and courageous. The stories shared here belong solely to the contributors, and their experiences, perspectives, and advice may not apply to everyone. We encourage readers to honor their own paths and seek professional support as needed.