Escaping Purity Culture Without Abandoning Christ Part 1

When Good Intentions Become Heavy Burdens

Mennonite Roots and Early Lessons

My wife and I both grew up in a strict Mennonite church culture. Her dad was an Old Colony pastor, deeply sincere and earnest in his desire to help people find assurance of salvation in Christ. The church itself was highly traditional: men and women sat on opposite sides, women wore dark dresses with kerchiefs and no jewelry, men wore dark clothing, and services were held entirely in High German with Low German mixed in. Women were expected to avoid makeup, keep long hair, and wear dresses instead of pants.

My father‑in‑law genuinely loved Jesus. He cared deeply about people and wanted them to know the peace of salvation. Yet he was also a staunch supporter of church directives on external holiness. How one looked often seemed as important as—if not more important than—the condition of the heart. Early in our marriage, my wife and I wrestled with this emphasis, especially around women’s dress codes. We had many difficult conversations with her parents as we tried to reconcile what we saw in Scripture with what we saw in church culture.

Over time, we agreed to disagree and chose to prioritize relationship. As the years passed, I saw more clearly that both of my wife’s parents truly loved Jesus. Their kindness and genuine care for others became increasingly evident. The external expectations remained, but their hearts shone brighter.

Those early experiences planted seeds—good ones and challenging ones—that shaped how we later approached holiness, parenting, and purity culture.

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Regrets from Purity Culture

My wife and I often watch escape stories from legalistic cultures. It’s easy to identify with the struggles of people trying to leave ultra‑legalistic environments. Many end up deconstructing from Christianity altogether, unable to separate the Christ of Scripture from the harshness of their church experience. They associate God with the judgmental leaders who shaped their early faith. Instead of seeing a God who walks with us toward holiness, they see a God who demands asceticism and self‑abasement.

One of my regrets as a parent is how we got caught up in the purity culture movement. We meant well. We wanted holiness. We wanted to protect our kids. Most of the parents, pastors, and leaders we knew wanted the same. Their intentions were sincere.

But fear quietly shaped much of it—fear of sin, fear of failure, fear of dishonoring God. And fear cannot produce holiness.

“The law can expose sin, but it cannot empower obedience.”

Since then, we’ve realized that purity—better understood as holiness—flows out of relationship with Jesus. It grows from a transformed mind, not from rules. The law can expose sin, but it cannot change the heart.

This is exactly what Paul confronted in Galatians 3:3 when he asked, “After beginning by means of the Spirit, are you now trying to finish by means of the flesh?” It’s the same trap purity culture fell into: trying to produce spiritual fruit through human effort.

The problem was never the desire for holiness.

The problem was believing holiness could be produced through asceticism.

And when rules become the primary focus, something else often follows: shame, hidden sin, and eventually disillusionment.

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Where This Series Goes Next

If good intentions can still produce heavy burdens, then we need to ask: what actually produces holiness? And why do movements built on strict rules so often collapse under the weight of their own contradictions?

In the next article, we’ll look at why some of the most visible purity culture movements fell apart—and why legalism often produces the very things it promises to prevent.