From Fear To Freedom: How Shin Buddhism Healed My Traumatic Religious Past
Note: This is, for me at least, the most important post I have made to date on this blog. More important even than successfully getting off benzos. It is also the most raw, as in really putting my deepest and personal thoughts out there to the whole world. That’s not easy for me to do. I usually hold something back, but not in this post. This post is me, nothing held back. As I stated at the beginning of this blog, it’s for me. I don’t expect to have a huge readership. I’m doing it for me. Still, it’s not easy for me to put stuff this personal out there.
A lot has happened since my last 2 posts. This isn’t going to be an easy post to write, not because I’m ashamed of what I have to say, but because I know it will upset some friends and family who might read it. But it’s way past time that I say what I need to say. Hopefully, it will help someone who may be struggling with something similar.
Back on February 3rd of this year, I published a post called “Thanks Be To God”. I need to come clean, so to speak, regarding that…
A Bit Of Background
I was raised in a small town in Texas, an extremely conservative town. Even more conservative than the town itself was the church my family attended. It was a non-denominational Church of Christ, they didn’t even believe mainstream Churches of Christ were “right” and perhaps not even going to heaven. The other Church of Christ in town, a mainstream church, were always referred to as “the liberals”, not Christians, and there were public spats between the church we attended and the mainstream Church of Christ in the local newspaper’s editorial or “letters” section. This was during the 70s and early 80s. The church we attended was very small. I don’t remember a time when there were more than 8 or ten members, including us.
I always found going to church there, every single Wednesday and twice on Sundays, extremely depressing. To me it was like going to a funeral 3 times a week. I mentioned that once (and only once) and got scolded for it so I never mentioned it again. I cannot remember one single message of hope in that church. It was always about “sin” and how rotten people are by nature and “God’s wrath” and “eternal hell”. Basically it was all fire-and-brimstone teachings, fear of damnation, and rigid moralism (in Christian terms “legalism”). I can’t remember a single time I felt what my Baptist and Catholic friends described as “God’s love”. This left me with a lasting mental image of a wrathful, vengeful god ready to pounce on people at the moment of death. A god completely devoid of real love. A god who’s “love” was completely conditional. That mental image lasted far into my adulthood and, if I’m being honest, something I still struggle with from time to time even at 59 years old. Religious trauma doesn’t just disappear simply because you’re far removed from the sources of it and able to reason better than a child hearing terrible teachings every week.
Effects Of Those Early Religious Teachings
Those early teachings caused me such strong feelings of anxiety, guilt, and unworthiness. I was already an anxious child, but the fear of hell caused me to fear death so much it interfered with my ability to enjoy life. I feared death beyond what any words could adequately describe because from what I had learned from that church an extremely angry god waited at the moment of death and would summarily toss one straight into an eternal lake of fire to be tormented forever and ever.
These feelings of anxiety turned into a deep depression that lasted right up to the time I moved to New Mexico almost 5 years ago. The depression wrecked my physical health. For decades, I carried a spiritual burden that I simply could not shake—including the fear and feeling that I could never ‘good enough’ for God’s love. The turning point for me was when I encountered Shin Buddhism. I had studied Buddhism years ago, but after much effort I figured out that I wasn’t going to reach “enlightenment” because, like fundamental/radical Christian teachings, one had to adhere to very strict codes, giving up all human “vices” (natural urges, actually) like anger, lust, and basically every natural human emotions. Show me someone who claims they have overcome all lust, anger, and wanting and I’ll show you a liar. No priest, pastor, monk, or nun in all of human history has ever overcome all those things. How do I know this? Because people are people regardless of time or place. I have known enough hucksters to know that the more “holy” or “pure” someone tries to come across as, the more corrupt they are.
Discovering Shin Buddhism—A Radical Shift
I have always been a spiritual, if not religious, person. I have always longed for a “spiritual home”. I found that in Shin Buddhism. It wasn’t until I found Shin Buddhism that I realized that grace wasn’t something I had to earn—it was already mine all along. My early religious upbringing framed God as punitive and salvation as a fragile reward for perfection. The cycle of guilt seemed unending in the religious teachings of my youth… confession, shame, and the exhausting pursuit of “holiness.” I grew up believing God’s love was a transaction: If I obeyed, I might be spared from hell. But no matter how hard I tried, I never felt truly saved—only afraid.
Shin Buddhism deeply resonated with me and the more I studied it, and continue to study it, the more I found/find that it is my spiritual home. It took a spiritual crisis (which I was in when I wrote the post “Thanks Be To God”) to acknowledge what I truly believe. In Shin Buddhism I found relief and rest in relying on Amida’s vow, not my own ‘perfection’. Notice I chose the word “rest”. That is what it feels like… Rest from decades of futile efforts of trying to be ‘perfect’ like Jesus told his followers to be (Matthew 5:48). In Shin Buddhism, I could finally embrace my imperfections without shame. That doesn’t mean not trying to be a good person and better myself, just that I don’t have to be something that is impossible, ‘perfect’. The practice of gratitude (“Namo Amida Butsu”) as a reminder of grace brings me more comfort than I can express in words. In contrast with Christian teachings, there is no eternal hell or wrathful judgment. In Shin Buddhism, “salvation” is a gift, not a test. For the very first time, I heard a spiritual truth that didn’t demand my worthiness: ‘Just as you are, you are embraced.’ It felt like finally being able to exhale after a lifetime of holding my breath. It was, and is, a release from a feeling of spiritual performance anxiety. I am free now from the feeling that I have to “prove” my faith i.e. constantly having to confess the “sins” of being human, trying (and failing) to not have normal human responses/emotions and so on. Shin Buddhism also helped me heal the shame that came from old wounds.Saying the Name, the nembutsu, replaced fear with gratitude. Shin Buddhism didn’t ask me to renounce my past—it helped me reinterpret it. My trauma wasn’t a sign of failure; it was the very reason the Dharma resonated so deeply.
Now, leaving the teachings of my upbringing (wrathful god, hell, punishment) isn’t about rejection as much as it is about healing. I can now view Christian teachings, even the harsh ones I learned, through a lens of compassion instead of anger and pain. I now understand that sometimes people need to explore what truly nourishes their spirit even if that means venturing beyond the traditions one was raised with. I don’t resent my Christian past anymore. It led me here—to a path where love isn’t conditional, and grace isn’t a prize you win, but a truth you remember. I think it’s important that people, and societies as a whole, begin to normalize the struggle of questioning or leaving oppressive religious systems.
Shin Buddhism and Christian Teachings and Differences
At first glance, the idea of “grace” in Shin Buddhism might sound similar to Christianity—both traditions speak of being saved through a power beyond oneself. But the nature of this grace, how it works, and what it asks of us differ profoundly. Here’s how:
1. The Source of Grace
– Christianity: Grace flows from a personal God who *chooses* to bestow it (e.g., Ephesians 2:8: “By grace you have been saved”). It’s often framed as divine mercy overcoming human sinfulness.
– Shin Buddhism: Grace is the natural, unconditional activity of Amida Buddha’s primal vow—not a “decision” but a cosmic promise that predates our efforts. It’s like sunlight; it doesn’t pick who to shine on.
Christian grace felt like a pardon from a judge. Shin grace feels like oxygen—already here, already sustaining me, before I even knew to ask.
2. The Role of Human Effort
Christianity: While grace is unmerited, many traditions still emphasize human cooperation (e.g., repentance, faith, sacraments, moral striving). The tension between “faith vs. works” has sparked centuries of debate.
Shin Buddhism: Liberation comes solely through Amida’s vow (tariki). Even our faith (shinjin) is understood as Amida’s gift, not our achievement. We don’t “accept” grace—we awaken to what’s already given.
In my old faith, I prayed and tried to be worthy of grace. In Shin Buddhism, I whisper Namu Amida Butsu to remember I was never outside of it in the first place.
3. The Problem Grace Solves
Christianity: Grace remedies “sin”—a separation from God caused by human rebellion (Adam and Eve’s fall). Salvation often means reconciliation with a divine parent.
Shin Buddhism: Grace remedies “ignorance”—the illusion that we’re separate, self-sufficient beings. Liberation isn’t about atonement but awakening to interconnectedness (what Shinran called jinen, “naturalness”).
4. The Outcome of Grace
Christianity: Eternal life with God (heaven), always contingent on sustaining faith/repentance. Some Christians even warn grace can be lost.
Shin Buddhism: Birth in the Pure Land—a realm of perfect awakening—not as a reward, but as the natural result of entrusting to Amida’s vow. No fear of losing grace because the vow is irrevocable.
5. The Emotional Experience
Christianity: For many like myself, grace brings a temporary feeling of relief but also lingering anxiety (“Am I really saved?”). Love feels given despite unworthiness.
Shin Buddhism: Grace brings quiet joy—not because we’re “forgiven,” but because we realize we were never condemned to begin with! Love feels given because of our very brokenness.
This isn’t about which grace is “better”—it’s about which resonates with your heart. Some, like me, need the radical non-dualism of Shin Buddhism to heal from punitive theology. Others find comfort in Christian grace’s intimacy. Both paths can be doors to peace.
Grace Beyond Dogma
For those open to interfaith reflection, it’s striking how mystics across traditions—whether Shin Buddhist or Christian—point to a grace that transcends dogma. Their words might not align perfectly, but they resonate in their depth.
Shinran on Amida’s Unconditional Embrace
– “Even a good person attains birth in the Pure Land, how much more so the evil person!”
(This flips the script: Grace isn’t for the “worthy”—it’s most evident in our brokenness.)
-“When I consider the compassion of Amida’s vow, established over countless aeons, I realize it was for me alone.” – Shinran
(Grace isn’t abstract—it’s intimate, immediate.)
Christian Mystics on the Ground of Being
– Meister Eckhart (a 14th c. German Christian mystic):
“God is not found in the soul by adding anything, but by a process of subtraction.”
(Compare to Shin Buddhism’s “letting go of self-power.” Both point beyond effort to surrender.)
– Julian of Norwich (a 14th c. English Christian mystic):
“All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.”
(Her vision of divine love echoes the “unhindered light” of Amida’s compassion.)
Eckhart and Shinran never met, but both knew this: Grace isn’t earned—it’s ‘the air the soul breathes when it stops struggling.’
Addressing Common Christian Misconceptions About Buddhism
A lot Christians (especially those from conservative backgrounds) misunderstand Buddhism. Here’s just a few points for clarification:
1. “Isn’t Amida just a substitute God?”
No, Amida isn’t a creator God who judges or intervenes in the world. Some see Amida Buddha as a sort of symbol of boundless compassion—more like the sun’s light than a person. Shin Buddhism rejects theism; it’s about ‘awakening to reality as it is’, not worshiping a deity. Others, however, do see Amida Buddha as something more like a “real being”, but not a creator god.
2. “Isn’t Buddhism pessimistic or nihilistic?”
– The Buddha didn’t teach that life is meaningless—he taught that suffering/dissatisfaction (dukkha) arises from clinging to illusions (like permanence or a separate “self”). Shin Buddhism goes further: Even our suffering becomes the raw material of awakening, like mud nourishing a lotus. The Buddha taught against both nihilism and eternal-ism.
3. “Doesn’t grace without moral effort lead to laziness?”
– Shinran was asked this too! But tariki (other power, external power, Amida’s vow) isn’t passive—it’s a shift from “I have to be good to be saved” to “Because I am held, I respond with natural gratitude.” Like a child who, feeling loved, wants to hug their parent back.
4. “Isn’t the Pure Land just Buddhist heaven?”
– Most Shin Buddhists see the Pure Land as not a literal paradise but a metaphor for the mind free from delusion. As Shinran said, “The Pure Land is in the entrusting heart.” It’s not a reward—it’s the already-present reality, obscured by our fear. Others seem to see it as a sort of literal “paradise” but not in the Christian sense because there is no eternal “self” to spend an “eternity” in said paradise.
Shin Buddhism is a path where spiritual rest (not having to constantly struggle to “earn” or “keep” grace) isn’t a sin and love isn’t a test.
Where I Am Now
For most of my life, I carried the weight of fear—fear of death, fear of hell, and fear of never being good enough. Raised in a strict and unforgiving form of Christianity, I was taught that salvation was conditional, always just out of reach, and that God’s judgment loomed heavy over every misstep. Even long after leaving that church, the fear never fully left me. It echoed in my body as anxiety and panic, and it haunted my thoughts, especially at night.
I discovered Buddhism later in life—specifically, the path of Shin (Jodo Shinshu) Buddhism—and it was like a door quietly opened in my heart. Here was a teaching that didn’t demand perfection. Here was Amida Buddha, whose Vow was not for the pure or strong, but for people like me—flawed, anxious, doubtful, and weary. I didn’t have to earn grace. I only had to receive it.
Through the simple yet profound practice of nembutsu—reciting Namu Amida Butsu—and the quiet stillness of Soto Zen-style meditation, I began to feel something I never really had before: peace. Not a perfect peace, but a real one. A peace that doesn’t erase pain but embraces me in it. A peace that tells me, even in my deepest fear, “You are not alone.”
The nembutsu now comes naturally to me—on walks, in stillness, even in anxious moments. And over time, it has helped soften the rigid fear I was raised with. I no longer try to “believe hard enough” because belief has become something simpler and more organic—it just is.
I’m still healing, still learning to trust this path. But Shinran’s teaching—that we are embraced just as we are, without needing to “fix” ourselves first—has changed my life. And so I walk each day with my beads in hand, whispering the name of Amida, not as a plea, but as a recognition that I am held. I am accepted. I am free.
Namu Amida Butsu!