Easter After Evangelicalism: Holding Grief and Beauty on Holy Weekend
When Holy Days Hurt and Heal
For many exvangelicals and those who’ve left high-control religious environments, Easter weekend—especially Good Friday—can feel heavy and complicated. It’s a time full of familiar language, songs, and stories, many of which were once deeply meaningful… and also deeply painful.
For those healing from religious trauma or seeking support for spiritual abuse recovery, this time of year can stir unresolved grief, trauma responses, or even confusion about identity and belief. These trauma responses might look like emotional numbness, sudden irritability, intrusive memories, fatigue, anxiety, trouble sleeping, physical pain or illness, or a deep sense of dread you can’t quite place. You might find yourself avoiding certain music, images, or gatherings—or being unexpectedly overwhelmed by them. You might notice the ache before you even realize what day it is. The memory of dimly lit churches, whispered prayers, or being told to thank a God who demanded suffering. Maybe you remember being told your worth was found only in sacrifice or obedience. Maybe you internalized shame disguised as “salvation.”
And yet, maybe there’s still something in you that longs to honor this time. To hold space for sorrow. To name death. To celebrate life. To believe in resurrection—not as a doctrine, but as a lived experience of healing.
What Gets Grieved
If you're feeling grief this time of year, you're not alone. What we grieve during Holy Week might include:
The loss of a spiritual home or faith community
Being excluded or erased by the very spaces that taught you about love
Years spent fearing punishment rather than experiencing peace
The disconnect from ritual, even when it was meaningful
A God who once felt close, but now feels complicated
As a trauma-informed therapist who supports individuals healing from spiritual abuse and high-demand religious groups, I see how deeply this grief lives in the body. This grief is sacred. It’s not petty or bitter. It’s the body remembering. It’s the heart acknowledging loss. And it’s the soul making room for truth.
What Can Be Celebrated
Even outside of traditional church structures, many exvangelicals and those healing from religious trauma still find ways to honor Easter’s deeper meaning:
Resting on Good Friday as an act of resistance to performance and productivity
Naming and lamenting what has been lost or broken
Creating new rituals that feel embodied, safe, and self-honoring
Gathering with chosen family for meals, music, or reflection
Celebrating personal resurrection stories—moments of healing, liberation, or return to self
For some, this Easter marks a quiet, courageous turning point—a step away from the places that once told them who they had to be in order to belong. It might look like gently leaving the spaces that once shaped your faith but also caused you harm. It might sound like saying no to the narratives that made you small. The story of Jesus—one marked by rejection, grief, and an unexpected rising—reminds us that sacred things often unfold far from the spotlight. When you begin to loosen the grip of fear, shame, or obligation—that, too, is a resurrection. And it’s just as sacred as any sermon or song.
Easter doesn’t have to be what it was to still mean something now. Many people in the deconstruction and spiritual healing community are learning to hold both grief and beauty at once—to mourn what we lost, and still rise into something more whole.
A New Kind of Resurrection
The story of Easter is ultimately about what lives on. What rises again. What refuses to be extinguished by fear or control or death. And maybe that’s the story you’re living, too.
Maybe this is the weekend you begin to return to yourself. Not in a loud or showy way, but in the quiet places where you finally say: I’m allowed to feel whole. I’m allowed to feel free. You no longer have to live a life that asks you to disappear. This season can be about choosing tenderness instead of punishment, presence instead of performance. That might feel unfamiliar or even a little defiant—but perhaps that’s what resurrection is all about: rising into something more true.
You don’t have to explain why this weekend feels tender. You don’t have to justify why you still light a candle or cry at a hymn or avoid the whole thing entirely. There is no right way to move through this season.
If you are honoring your grief, reclaiming joy, resting your body, or simply breathing a little deeper this weekend—that, too, is sacred. That, too, is resurrection.
If you're seeking support in making sense of these layered feelings or want to work with a therapist for religious trauma and spiritual abuse, know that there is space for you, and you're not alone. In therapy, we can explore what healing, grief, and celebration might look like for you—on your terms.