Eyes Wide Open

Fear and Self-Loathing in Sunday School

When I was six years old, my Sunday school teacher told us that if we didn’t close our eyes when we prayed, our prayers wouldn’t count.

I remember freezing in my little chair, one eye barely open so I could peek around the room. I wasn’t trying to test God. I was just curious. I wanted to see if anyone else was brave enough to look.

But I still closed my eyes.

Not because I believed her, but because I was afraid to be wrong.

That memory has stuck with me—not because of the theology (I’ve long since abandoned the idea that God’s Wi-Fi signal gets interrupted by blinking), but because it’s one of the first moments I remember feeling religious fear. And not the big, capital-letter FEAR OF THE LORD kind. The small, quiet kind. The fear of messing up. The fear of not doing it right. The fear of it not “counting.”

Inherited Fear: Where Beliefs Begin

I’ve spent minimal energy trying to figure out why that teacher said what she said. Maybe she was repeating something she’d heard, without thinking it through. Maybe she liked the authority of being the adult in the room. Or maybe—though this seems unlikely—she was doing an absurd Andy Kaufman-style performance art piece. (My money’s still on Option A.)

But regardless of her motives, her words left a mark. Fear often does.

I see it every day in my counseling work. One client recently said to me, “I’m just so afraid I’m going to do life wrong.” That was the actual sentence. “Do life wrong.” As if there’s a checklist somewhere with points awarded for correct performance—prayers with closed eyes, marriages that last forever, sexuality that fits the mold, careers that never stall out. As if there's an answer key for all of it.

We inherit these fears. From pulpits and parents. From Sunday school and sitcoms. From well-meaning advice and not-so-meaningful threats.

Growing up, I was told that if you didn’t get baptized the “right” way, you’d go to Hell. That if you were gay, you were outside of God’s will—and therefore outside of love, community, heaven, safety. When I came out, I feared not just damnation but human rejection. Would the people who’d known me for years still see me the same way? Or would I become the sad cautionary tale in their next sermon?

Even outside of church, fear found a way in. My stepfather warned us that watching too much TV would 'wear it out'—a small lie that taught me how easily adults weaponize our trust. The lesson wasn't about television; it was about unquestioning obedience.

While I didn’t spend too much actual emotional energy worrying that I was going to ruin the television by watching GI-Joe, I am also terrified of birds. And heights. Those two, at least, seem reasonable.

The Variable of “It”

Here’s what I’ve noticed: everybody has an “it.” The thing they’re afraid of doing wrong.

For some people, it’s parenting. For others, it’s grieving. For many, it’s faith—especially after they start deconstructing the one they were handed. The “it” shifts depending on your life season, your community, your history. But the throughline is the same: a lurking fear that you’re screwing something up and the consequences will be dire.

That kind of fear is sticky. And often, it’s internalized so early that we don’t even realize we’re carrying it.

So we keep our eyes closed—figuratively or literally—just in case.

Fear as a Tool (And a Weapon)

I’ve stopped trying to make peace with fear. Not because I’m fearless. I’m not. (See again: birds and heights.) But because I’ve realized how often fear is used as a tool for control. Instead, I've learned to ask better questions: Who benefits from my compliance? What am I actually risking if I open my eyes? Usually, the only thing at stake is someone else's comfort with my conformity.

Fear increases power. And power increases wealth.

Which makes the old biblical phrase “the love of money is the root of all evil” feel more true to me now than ever—despite all the unpacking and unlearning I’ve done around faith. When fear is present, people can be manipulated. Systems can stay intact. Authority can go unchallenged. Eyes stay closed.

And look, some fears are understandable. It’s natural to worry about getting things wrong when the stakes are high. But fear should never be the foundation of love, community, or belief. Fear doesn’t invite connection; it demands compliance.

Open-Eyed Prayers

If I could go back and talk to that six-year-old version of me, I’d sit down beside him during prayer time, eyes wide open, and whisper, “It still counts. You still count.”

Because that’s the truth I’ve come to hold on to. It’s not about whether you follow the right script. It’s not about what the teacher said or the church expected or the culture demanded.

It means questioning the voice that says you're doing it wrong.
It means staying in relationships where curiosity is welcome and leaving ones where it isn't.
It means praying with your eyes open if that feels honest, or not praying at all if that feels true.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s the kind of prayer that counts the most.

This content is for educational and entertainment purposes and is not the same as therapy. If you need to talk to someone, go to PsychologyToday.com or one of the many online therapy platforms available and start treatment with a professional today.

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