Spiritual Gaslighting in the Chapel: Why Institutional Loyalty Is Not the Same as Discipleship
Written by: Evelyn B.
There’s a subtle but powerful form of spiritual manipulation in many faith communities—it is called devotion, but feels more like control. It’s the unspoken message that loyalty to the institution matters more than loyalty to Christ. The idea is not to question leadership because that would mean you are questioning God. What kind of person questions God? A bad person. Therefore, questioning leadership is wrong. Any type of spiritual bravery that reaches beyond institutional policy is out of bounds. Devotion is expected to look like apologies, silence and submission.
This type of devotion isn’t Christ’s culture, it is a form of spiritual gaslighting—and it stifles growth, honesty, and real relationship with the Divine.
When Loyalty Becomes a Red Flag
In Episode 243 of Latter Day Struggles, Valerie reminds us: When calls for loyalty are louder than invitations to grow, we’re standing in institutional anxiety—not spiritual expansion.
Historically, religious institutions have used loyalty tests to maintain control—from ancient ecclesial councils to modern church handbooks. Yet Jesus’ ministry was counter to institutional compliance—He prioritized compassion, authenticity, and individual conscience over rigid obedience. Anyone remember the harvesting of corn for a sabbath snack?
Institutional Loyalty ≠ Discipleship
Here’s what’s at stake:
| Institutional Loyalty | Christlike Discipleship |
| Does what is expected | Follows where the Spirit leads |
| Fears questioning doctrine/policy | Trusts God’s whispers of personal conviction |
| Seeks approval, avoids conflict | Speaks truth in love |
| Obeys rules, even when harmful | Holds systems accountable with courage |
Institutional loyalty asks you to stay in line. Christ’s way invites you to walk a path of integrity—even when it challenges authority.
Autonomy in Personal Spiritual Journeys
The autonomy over my spiritual journey led me to examine my relationship with the temple garment. On moving to Texas from Nebraska, the change of climate from cold and dry to hot and humid was stressful to my body. I did the best I could, taking breaks from garment wearing here and there, but still trying to wear them night and day as per the temple recommend interview questions asked by my male leaders. Despite my continuous efforts, once I became pregnant and the hormones and blood flow changed, the extra layering of fabric felt suffocating.
When the air conditioner broke in the house we were renting and it was going to take days to fix, it no longer became a matter of faith, it became impractical. Wearing garments in a hot and humid climate without air conditioning on a female pregnant body was unsafe. My middle-class American privilege became exposed and I started to ask some questions. What did people who lived in hot climates and could not afford air conditioning do?
The church was global, and while I certainly lived in a hot and humid climate, there were hotter and more humid climates with far less air conditioning. The temple garment shifted in my mind from a sign of my temple covenants to a sign of my economic privilege. The garment didn’t feel like a protection, it felt like oppression. I thought of how we need to ask God when we have questions, so I did.
I needed to take this to God.
“Dear Heavenly Father, is it OK with you if I don’t wear garments?”
“I don’t care what you wear, I care about you.” I felt how large and loving God was, and this love encompassed everything. While this is not the messaging from the institution of the church, my personal revelation was clear. God cared about me outside of rules. If I wanted to wear garments, fine. If I didn’t want to wear them, that is also fine. God could hold it all.
Spiritual Bravery in Transition
Disengaging from loyalty isn’t easy. It’s often met by pushback: alleged betrayal, increasing scrutiny, threats of disapproval. Yet it’s precisely in these moments we may be called to discipleship.
- Bravery looks like asking hard questions when discomfort surfaces.
- Faithfulness looks like compassionately engaging institutions, but not at the cost of personal integrity.
- Trust looks like following Christ’s voice—even if it diverges from the status quo.
The choice to not wear garments when it didn’t feel right to me wasn’t met without pushback. I learned that I was pushing up against a cultural identity marker and by not having them on, I was unintentionally signaling that I was not part of the fold. Then I was asked by my bishop about wearing my garments, and not in a scripted temple recommended interview. I had to have the courage to tell him I would not be discussing my underwear with him. It was uncomfortable and unsettling to do this, and it went against all the conditioning I’d received to trust my leaders. I had to take steps to trust myself. Trust my authentic discipleship. And trust that I can tolerate others choosing not to agree with me.
Jesus Didn’t Care About Checkboxes
Look back at Jesus—He ignored purity laws to heal, dismissed Sabbath rituals to feed, and loved the groups of people the rules said to hate. He wasn’t anti-institution, but He didn’t let institutions limit His compassion, rebellion, or courage.
It is our greatest call to love God with all our heart, and to love others as ourselves. If there is a rule that gets in the way of self-love, compassion to others, and knowing the Divine, what is the point of the rule? Shouldn’t religion help us become more loving? We each have the capacity to know what love feels like.
Living with Integrity
- Notice “loyalty prompts” that sound controlling or shame-based.
- Breathe, and remember your worth isn’t earned through compliance.
- Recalibrate: What does discipleship look like for you—not just what institutions demand?
Build both courage and community so you aren’t isolated in your truth.
Final Thought
Institutional loyalty keeps us at a distance from Christ. Discipleship draws us close. Spiritual growth demands both courage and vulnerability—it’s the journey of listening to Christ more than rulebooks, to your own soul more than approval. It’s messy. It’s brave. And it’s sacred.
