Scrupulosity may be the most fascinating way in which my mental illnesses have manifested in my persona. Throughout the last year, I have worked closely on the underlying mental issues that led me to drink. One of these is obsessive-compulsive disorder or OCD. When my therapist suggested I may have OCD, I scoffed. I don’t spend twenty minutes washing my hands or making sure I touch each step on a flight of stairs. These are stereotypical ways we conceptualize OCD—and while there may be some truth in them, there is something much deeper and darker at its core.
I have two general subtypes of OCD- scrupulosity and relationships. Both have tragically affected my life in numerous ways, especially contributing to my inability to keep and foster healthy relationships. It’s devastating, and the results have impacted me in heartbreaking ways; it contributed greatly to my deconversion from Christianity, something I held near and dear to my heart since birth. But while I may no longer have faith, I still have my life. And scrupulosity helped me to keep it.
So, what is ‘Scrupulosity?’
You’ve probably heard the word at least once before, but what does it mean? To me, it sounds like a Willy Wonka flavor. Rather, it “manifests as an inordinate concern with having troublesome blasphemous or sacrilegious thoughts, as well as an excessive preoccupation with moral rectitude.”1 Scrupulosity has also been defined as “an overly obsessive fear of sinning and disappointing God.”2 In more simplistic terms, I would define it as the action of one fearing God’s punishments to the extreme that they strive for perfection, even if it drags them down. And I speak from experience on this.
We cannot deny that the Bible fuels scrupulosity. After all, Jesus told his audience, “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matt. 5:48, NRSVue). Many of us would be quick to say, “Well, it all depends on what Jesus defined as ‘perfect.’” That is a purely rational way to look at the text, but sadly, pastors do not understand this. And so they teach that we must be perfect; we must never have lustful thoughts, sinful intentions, or swear. We then strive to live up to these standards, as our faith is the core of our identity. And when we do not live up to them, we suffer.
OCD is not just an obsession with having clean hands. It is a disorder that gives people “a greater tendency toward obsessionality, especially religious obsessions and scrupulosity, and more guilt.”3 It is a disorder in which you feel as though you will never be deserving enough of God’s grace and forgiveness, one in which you are always both a sinner and a failure. It is not easy to cope with, especially when your entire life is built on a religious foundation, and religion guides your every decision.
So, how did this awful disorder save anything?
Can anything good come from a disorder in which you understand yourself as undeserving of divine love? In my experience, yes. The same cannot be said for everyone, which I understand and respect, but for me, it saved me. As you know by now, I am no longer religious. The cat who lost his faith in the title—that’s me. But I cannot deny that a life apart from faith has done more good for me and my struggles than I could have ever imagined.
If not for my scrupulosity, I would have never asked the question of suffering. I would not have a bachelor’s in biblical theology, nor would I be working on a master’s in the same field. And, in an alternate universe, I can imagine that I am still a devout Christian, attending church each Sunday and praying throughout the day. But I also know that in such a universe, I would be completely miserable. Each little bad thing I did would remind me that God cannot forgive me because I’d have a rotten heart.
My scrupulosity led me to ask the bigger questions in life. Not only to ask them, but also driving my energy to seek out the answers. As a suicide survivor and recovering alcoholic, I can see that religion played a tremendous role in my crises. I felt that I was undeserving of God’s love, therefore I deserved to die. I was undeserving of eternal life, so I should spend my earthly life drowning my emotions in booze. All of these things, in some sense, stem from bad religious experiences.
Making sense of it all
So, religion nearly killed me. I allowed it to kill me because I saw no other way except to disavow my faith, which my former Christian self would never do. Finally, in my last crisis, the narrative changed. Whereas in previous psychotic episodes, I saw demons, the one I experienced last spring was far different. I saw nothing. But I heard everything. I heard God’s voice commanding me to end my life.
Once I was stable, clearly, I had some questions. Now, I can recognize that I was not hearing the literal voice of God. It was all in my head; I was in psychosis. But that does not change the fact that my mind, haywire, decided to tell the rest of me that God wanted me dead. My psychotic mind placed God in such a high position that if I thought he told me to end it all, I would. That’s a scary thought—but it did cause me to
I should add that it was just prior to ending my medications that I had enough of religion. I could no longer identify as a Christian. At the time, I was working in a church and for a Christian health insurance company; I had just received my Bachelor of Science in theology, and I was about 18 months sober at that point. Sure, I believed God was real, but God was a monster in whom I could not put my faith. Just weeks later, I went to my appointment to have my meds changed.
And just a few months later, I was calling the suicide hotline.
Healing through questioning
I can only imagine what would have happened if I never questioned my faith. Suffering from scrupulosity is brutal, but I see it as beautiful, too. For the overwhelming majority of my life, I feared that I was too much of a sinner ever to enter heaven. Feared to the extent that I would sacrifice my identity to do anything and everything an ancient collection of writings told me to do. Feared that I would never be good enough for a God who is both vengeful and jealous. But that fear no longer guides my life.
The church made me feel as though I could never receive God’s grace. I would have to literally pluck out my eye and cut off my right arm ever to meet God’s expectations. Through therapy, personal growth, and studying, I have turned the scrupulosity that once made me feel so lost and unworthy into strength. I challenged the fundamentalist approach to the Bible that was ingrained in me throughout my life and determined that it would not guide my life any longer.
It was far from an easy process. It took several years of school, two terrible battles with alcoholism, and a psychotic episode that nearly led me to complete suicide, to see the effects religion had on me.
What about dualism?
Dualism is especially prominent in Christian theology. Dualism, in a nutshell, is “either-or;” there is no in between. You either go to heaven or hell. You’re either saved or not. You can only be good or evil. There is no gray; everything, and I mean everything, is black and white. Scrupulosity, in a nutshell, is the overwhelming fear of being such a sinner who is bound for hell and/or God’s wrathful judgement. That fear of failing ignited my quest for answers. Although it has been a long, dark, and lonely road, I am grateful that I turned my crippling fear into motivation.
While dualism may be prevalent in Christian theology, is it the same in biblical theology? It certainly has a place throughout the Bible (especially the apocalyptic literature); however, like most things I discuss here, there is not only one answer. Psalm 37 is an excellent example of this. From a general overview, dualism is prevalent throughout this psalm. But consider the following verses:
“Our steps are made firm by the Lord
when he delights in our way;
though we stumble, we shall not fall headlong,
for the Lord holds us by the hand.” (Psalm 37:23-24, NRSVue)
The psalm is supposedly written by King David. We know that David was perhaps the most important king of Israel throughout the Bible, that Jesus himself revered David, and that David exhibited both wisdom and the fear of God. But we also know that David was not perfect. David had issues, such as having Bathsheba’s husband murdered after he committed adultery with her. In Psalms 13 and 22, also allegedly written by David, he expresses doubt God’s use of suffering and his obvious silence and estrangement.
Concluding thoughts
Scrupulosity is a scary thing to deal with. To those of you currently wrestling with it, I genuinely hope that you do not lose your faith. Deconversion is a brutal process, one that I would not wish on my worst enemy. But, it is important to be challenged, and that is my goal here, whether you accept the Bible or not. At the end of the day, we can at least agree that there are valuable lessons for living a good life within it. The lesson for today, we cannot and never will be perfect; and that is okay. It is okay to fall short.
While scrupulosity brutally murdered my faith, it saved my life. I know the same cannot be said for everyone, but it is my hope that wherever your faith currently lies, you find a way to keep both your life and your faith.
- Peter Cefalu, “The Doubting Disease: Religious Scrupulosity and Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder in Historical Context” Chicago Review 66, no. 3-4 (2010): 113, https://link-springer-com.proxy.library.emory.edu/content/pdf/10.1007/s10912-010-9107-3.pdf
- Wang, Kenneth T, G. E. Kawika Allen, Hannah I Stokes, and Han Na Suh. “Perceived Perfectionism from God Scale: Development and Initial Evidence.” Journal of Religion and Health 57, no. 6 (2018): 2208, https://doi.org/10.1007/s10943-017-0405-1.
- Ibid.