Understanding Spiritual Abuse, When Faith Becomes a Weapon
Your faith was supposed to be a source of comfort. A place of safety, meaning, and connection.
But somewhere along the way, it became a weapon used against you.
Maybe your partner quotes scripture to justify controlling your every move. Maybe they tell you that leaving would damn you forever. Maybe they've convinced you that questioning them is the same as questioning God.
Or maybe your faith leader told you to stay, to forgive, to submit, even when you told them you weren't safe.
This is spiritual abuse, and it's one of the most insidious forms of control because it hijacks the very thing that should bring you peace.
When someone uses your beliefs to manipulate, shame, or trap you, the damage runs deep. You're not just questioning the relationship, you're questioning your faith, your worth, and sometimes even your right to safety.
If this feels familiar, I want you to know: your faith is not the problem. The person weaponising it is.
What Is Spiritual Abuse?
Spiritual abuse is the use of religious or spiritual beliefs to control, manipulate, or harm another person. It can happen in any faith tradition: Christianity, Islam, Judaism, Hinduism, Buddhism, or any other spiritual practice.
The tactics may look different across cultures and religions, but the goal is always the same: power and control.
It might sound like:
"God says wives must submit to their husbands—so you have no right to question me."
"Divorce is a sin. If you leave, you'll be damned."
"You're bringing dishonour to our family and our faith if you tell anyone what's happening."
"If you were a better [Christian/Muslim/Jew/Hindu], you wouldn't be struggling like this."
Sometimes the abuse comes directly from a partner. Sometimes it comes from faith leaders who pressure you to stay in a harmful relationship, dismiss your concerns, or tell you that forgiveness is more important than safety.
And sometimes, entire faith communities unintentionally reinforce the abuse by emphasising submission, male authority, or the sanctity of marriage above all else—including your wellbeing.
Spiritual abuse is coercive control dressed in religious language. And it's especially devastating because it attacks your sense of belonging, meaning, and connection to something larger than yourself.
Finding light in the darkness: Aasymbol of hope and healing.
What Spiritual Abuse Looks Like
Spiritual abuse can take many forms, but here are some of the most common patterns:
Preventing you from practising your faith. Your partner forbids you from attending religious services, praying at required times, or following dietary or spiritual practices important to you.
Ridiculing your beliefs. They mock you when you pray, belittle your faith, or call you names until you start questioning your own spirituality.
Using religious texts to justify abuse. They cherry-pick verses about obedience, submission, or male authority to validate controlling or violent behaviour. They might even use scripture to demand you do things you're uncomfortable with: sexually, financially, or otherwise.
Claiming divine authority. They position themselves as God's representative in your life, saying that questioning them is the same as questioning God.
Forcing religious practices on your children. They insist your children be raised in a faith you don't agree with, shutting you out of decisions about their spiritual upbringing.
Threatening spiritual consequences. They tell you that leaving will result in eternal damnation, that you'll be cursed, or that God will punish you for disobedience.
Cutting you off from faith communities. They isolate you from spiritual support networks, whether that's your church, mosque, temple, or other faith-based connections.
Using faith leaders against you. They manipulate clergy or spiritual advisors into pressuring you to stay, forgive, or submit—even when you've disclosed abuse.
Why Spiritual Abuse Hits So Hard
Spiritual abuse is especially damaging because it doesn't just harm your relationship, Cultural and Relationship Dynamics
Spiritual abuse is often compounded by cultural factors and relationship dynamics.
For migrant women, spiritual abuse can be especially isolating. If you moved to Australia through marriage, your partner might use your faith against you in ways that feel impossible to challenge. They might say, "That's not how we do things here," preventing you from practising your religion. Language barriers, lack of local faith communities, and fear of deportation can leave you feeling powerless.
In mixed-faith relationships, spiritual abuse might look like mockery, pressure to convert, or being forbidden from practising your beliefs. Someone who doesn't share your faith might ridicule you for praying, attending services, or raising your children in your tradition.
Even in same-faith relationships, spiritual abuse can thrive. A Muslim woman might be told her spiritual practices are meaningless unless she submits entirely to her husband's control. A Catholic partner might be told that leaving is a mortal sin, even when staying means enduring abuse.it attacks your core sense of self.
Faith often provides comfort, hope, a moral compass, and a sense of belonging. When someone manipulates that faith to control you, you're left questioning everything: your worth, your judgement, your relationship with the divine.
You might start believing you're "sinful" or "unworthy" based on what your abuser says. You might feel ashamed for struggling, guilty for wanting to leave, or terrified of what will happen to your soul if you do.
And if your faith community reinforces the abuse, by prioritising forgiveness over safety, submission over autonomy, or "keeping the peace" over protecting victims—the isolation becomes unbearable.
One woman told me: "My husband said if I left, I'd be damned forever. I felt trapped between my faith and my safety."
This internal conflict is devastating. And it's not your fault.
When Spiritual Abuse Escalates
Like other forms of abuse, spiritual abuse often escalates over time.
It might start with subtle manipulation, small comments about your faith, gentle pressure to conform. Over time, it becomes more overt: control over your religious practices, threats of damnation, using scripture to justify violence.
Abusers might quote religious texts to excuse their behaviour, insist that "God gave me authority over you," or threaten eternal consequences if you seek help or leave.
Even when physical violence isn't present, the emotional and psychological toll is devastating. Gaslighting, coercion, and constant manipulation erode your sense of self and leave you feeling trapped.
The Barriers to Leaving
Leaving any abusive relationship is difficult. Spiritual abuse creates unique obstacles:
Religious teachings used against you. You might be told that divorce violates your faith's laws, that marriage vows are unbreakable, or that leaving means you've failed spiritually.
Faith leaders who don't understand. Clergy may unintentionally side with the abuser, encourage reconciliation without understanding the risks, or prioritise the institution over your safety.
Cultural stigma. In some communities, divorce or separation brings shame not just to you, but to your entire family. The pressure to stay can feel insurmountable.
Immigration threats. In migrant marriages, abusers might threaten to revoke your visa or have you deported if you leave.
Fear of losing your faith community. If your spiritual community is your primary source of support, leaving the relationship might mean losing that entire network.
These barriers are real. And if you're facing them, please know: you are not trapped forever. You deserve safety, even if the path there is complicated.
Healing from Spiritual Abuse
Recovering from spiritual abuse is a deeply personal journey. There's no single path, and healing takes time. But here are some things that can help:
Acknowledge what happened. Recognising that the abuse wasn't your fault and naming your experiences is an important first step. One survivor shared: "Realising that my abuser twisted scripture to control me was liberating."
Seek support. Connect with people who understand—whether that's a trauma-informed therapist, a support group, or trusted friends. Finding someone who respects your faith while also validating your experience can be life-changing.
Reconnect with your faith on your terms. This might mean studying sacred texts with fresh eyes, free from an abuser's interpretation. It might mean seeking guidance from new spiritual leaders, or exploring alternative practices like meditation or connecting with nature. Your spirituality is yours to reclaim.
Set boundaries. Protect yourself from harmful people or environments, including faith communities that dismiss or minimise what you've been through.
Let go of harmful teachings. Reinterpret religious texts or traditions that were used against you. For example, reframing "submission" as mutual respect rather than blind obedience can be deeply healing.
Healing after abuse often involves rebuilding your sense of self, separate from what you were told you should be. It's about finding your own voice again, spiritually, emotionally, and relationally.
If You're Supporting Someone
If someone you care about is healing from spiritual abuse, here's how you can help:
Listen without judgement. Survivors often worry about being dismissed or misunderstood. Simply believing them and acknowledging their pain is powerful.
Be aware of cultural differences. Understanding how someone's cultural and religious background influences their experience helps you offer more effective support.
Provide resources. Connect them with support groups, trauma-informed therapists, or faith-based organisations that understand spiritual abuse.
Challenge harmful narratives. When you hear religious teachings being used to justify control or harm, speak up. Advocate for safety and dignity over compliance.
You Deserve Safety and Peace
Spiritual abuse is never acceptable, no matter what your faith tradition teaches. You have the right to leave a relationship where you're being harmed, spiritually, emotionally, or physically.
Your faith is not the problem. The person weaponising it is.
And if your faith community isn't supporting you, that doesn't mean you've failed. It means they've failed you.
You deserve relationships, spiritual and otherwise, that help you feel more like yourself, not less. You deserve to practise your faith in freedom, not fear.
If you're navigating the aftermath of spiritual abuse, or if you're trying to figure out whether what you're experiencing is abuse, you don't have to do it alone.
Contact
If you or someone you know has experienced spiritual abuse, I provide a compassionate, non-judgmental space where we can work together to process your experiences, rebuild your sense of self, and explore your path to healing.
Contact me today to book a session or learn more about how I can support you.
