Content note: this post discusses coercive control, domestic abuse, and suicide.
Netflix's docuseries Death of the Pastor's Wife has put a painful spotlight on a form of abuse that rarely gets named out loud: spiritual abuse. The series follows the life and death of Mica Miller, a 30-year-old worship leader from Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, who was found dead in April 2024 after separating from her husband, pastor John-Paul "JP" Miller. The documentary examines allegations of coercive control, sexual coercion, and spiritual abuse in the couple's marriage, and details claims that Mica endured years of controlling behavior including financial control, surveillance, and attempts to isolate her from family and friends before serving her husband with divorce papers just two days before her death.
If any of that sounds familiar to you — not the specifics, but the shape of it — this post is for you.
What spiritual abuse actually looks like
Spiritual abuse is the misuse of religious authority, doctrine, or community to control, shame, or isolate another person. It's often harder to name than physical abuse because it hides inside language that sounds loving, biblical, or even protective. Some common patterns:
- Using scripture or doctrine as a control mechanism — telling someone that questioning, leaving, or disagreeing is a sin, a lack of faith, or an attack on God's authority.
- Isolating someone from outside support — discouraging relationships with family, friends, or anyone outside the church who might offer a different perspective.
- Monitoring and surveillance — framed as accountability or spiritual covering.
- Weaponizing forgiveness — demanding a victim reconcile with or stay silent about someone who has harmed them, in the name of grace.
- Threatening spiritual consequences for leaving — loss of community, reputation, or standing with God.
- Public shaming or "church discipline" used to punish someone for asserting a boundary.
None of these show up as bruises, that's exactly what makes them so disorienting to live through, and so hard to explain to people who haven't experienced it.
The mental health toll
Survivors of spiritual abuse often describe a specific kind of confusion that other forms of abuse don't always produce: their abuser and their faith community were often the same source of comfort and harm. That tangle can lead to:
- Chronic anxiety, hyper-vigilance, or a persistent sense of being watched or judged
- Depression, especially tied to feelings of guilt, shame, or spiritual failure
- Difficulty trusting your own judgment, since your perceptions were repeatedly overridden or reframed
- Complicated grief — grieving a community, an identity, or a version of faith you can no longer access
- Isolation, since the people closest to you may still be inside the system that caused harm
- In severe, sustained cases, the kind of despair and entrapment that can escalate to suicidal thinking
If you're noticing any of this in yourself, it doesn't mean something is wrong with you. It means you were responding, in a very human way, to something that was actually harmful — even if it was dressed up in language about God, family, or love.
What can help
Naming it. Simply having language for "spiritual abuse" or "coercive control" can be the first real relief many survivors feel. It moves the experience from "maybe I'm the problem" to "this was a pattern, and it has a name."
Finding a trauma-informed therapist. Not every therapist is equipped to understand religious trauma specifically. Look for clinicians who list "religious trauma," "spiritual abuse," or "high-control groups" among their specialties.
Rebuilding outside support slowly. If you've been isolated, reconnecting with people can feel unsafe even when it's good for you. Start small — one trusted person, one low-stakes conversation.
Separating faith from the system that harmed you, if that matters to you. Many survivors find that their relationship with faith itself doesn't have to end just because a specific church or leader caused harm. Others walk away from religion entirely. Both are valid outcomes, and neither is a moral failure.
Resources
- National Domestic Violence Hotline — 1-800-799-7233, or text "START" to 88788. They understand coercive control, financial abuse, and stalking, all patterns that show up in spiritually abusive relationships too.
- The Religious Trauma Institute and Reclamation Collective — organizations focused specifically on religious trauma and spiritual abuse recovery, with directories of trauma-informed therapists.
- RAINN (National Sexual Assault Hotline) — 1-800-656-4673, for support around sexual coercion within relationships.
- Pillars of Wellness— we would love to help you and have many therapists available with different backgrounds. https://www.pillarsinspires.com/clinicians
- 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, available 24/7, if you're struggling with thoughts of suicide or self-harm.
If you take one thing from this
Mica Miller's story resonated with so many people because it made visible something that usually stays hidden: that control can look like devotion, and that leaving a harmful situation — even a religious one — is not a betrayal of faith. It's an act of self-preservation.
If you're in a situation like this, you're allowed to ask for help. You're allowed to leave. And you're allowed to define your own relationship with faith on your own terms, without anyone else's permission.
*If you're personally struggling with your mental health right now, please know that support is available, please call Pillars of Wellness to set up mental health services (219) 323-3311. *
