Part 1: “please don’t take this public”
Part 2: never trust a church with a fog machine

So my initial impression of Freedom Church was “I’m not impressed.” It felt like a show, contrived, fake. I wanted something real.

However. My husband and daughters liked it, and that was a really big deal to me. My husband wasn’t easy to please when it came to church, and my daughters wanted (and needed) friends. They had left all their friends from church and The Hard Places Community back in Phnom Penh when we moved to Siem Reap four months earlier.

There were a lot of Cambodian teens at Freedom, and they welcomed my girls warmly. As young blond foreigners who spoke Khmer fluently, our kids were a novelty and got a lot of attention. They didn’t blend in, but they fit in, and it made my mama heart so happy.

And the same vibe (loud music, jumping, fog) that made me uncomfortable was one that my husband was a fan of. We had been to several Christian rock concerts over the years, and it wasn’t as big and dramatic as that, but, unlike me, he liked that kind of thing.

“Marla, you can put up with some ‘fake’ worship and fog,” I told myself. I didn’t want my sensibilities to get in the way of my family finding community and enjoying church.

And the people did seem really nice. There were just a handful of foreigners, and I liked that about it. And it wasn’t just the girls who were welcomed warmly. My husband and I were also invited to a “Cell Group” that met in someone’s home every Tuesday.

By the time we got home that afternoon, I decided I would adjust my attitude and give the church a chance.

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Two days after our first visit to Freedom, my husband and I found ourselves crammed in a tiny apartment living room with eight other people—three Americans, two Australians, one Irishwoman, two Cambodians. (I haven’t decided yet whether to change people’s names or just not give them names in my story.)

In my journal the next morning, I wrote: “[Hostess] was so hospitable, welcoming, down to earth. I loved her immediately.” We played an ice breaker game, prayed, read Scripture, and “discussed our identity in Christ and what’s holding us back from pursuing God’s dreams.”

Host Couple asked for prayer requests and I told them about our upcoming trip to the States and trusting God that everything would work out here while we were gone. “[They] prayed the most perfect, anointed prayers, pinpointing my exact concerns, and prayed for everything I hadn’t dared to ask God for. Wow. This all just feels right. I can’t believe it.”

Later I wrote: “I can’t believe we get to live in Cambodia. And Freedom Church will make it much easier to come back home [after our visit to America].”

The month of May flew by. We worked at the center, went to church, went to Cell Group, and packed suitcases for our two-month trip.

Then, on May 30, there was an accident in Siem Reap involving a moto and a pedestrian. The pedestrian was an American on a mission trip. He didn’t survive.

(to be continued)

So I Google “Freedom Church UK” two days ago and quickly realize that we weren’t the only ones (or the first ones) to recognize them for what they are: a cult.

“Freedom Church has faced severe ‘cult’ accusations in the UK due to aggressive recruitment tactics, especially targeting young adults and university students.”

They were banned from two universities “following concerns raised by student services and parents regarding the indoctrination of vulnerable students.”

Former members “have accused the church’s leadership of cult-like behaviors including dictating personal relationships… and discouraging followers from listening to their own families.”

The Wikipedia page for the church names Freedom Church Siem Reap specifically and says they’ve been accused of “preying on the poor” in Cambodia.

I’ll be looking into these allegations further, but for now, my story:

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Let’s back up to January 2015. We (me, now-ex-husband, three daughters who are 14, 12, and 9) move to Phnom Penh, Cambodia. We go to language school for a few months. In the fall, we start working with an organization called The Hard Places Community. They fight human trafficking of children.

At the end of 2015, we’ve committed to starting a new drop-in center in Siem Reap for vulnerable kids.

We move to Siem Reap in January 2016. We open the center in March.

We try two different churches. They are both very Baptist-y and boring and sad. The only thing worse than sitting through a Baptist-y church service in the US is sitting through a Baptist-y church service in a language you aren’t fluent in where it’s clear that these people have been taught (colonized) to do things exactly like the Baptist-y missionaries who converted them to their specific brand of conservative white Christianity.

We find a church online—Freedom Church—that seems pretty cool. But one of our Cambodian co-workers at the center warns us: “Freedom Church is full of rich people who don’t welcome poor people.”

I write about her warning in my journal on March 16, 2016. A church full of rich people who don’t welcome poor people is my nightmare. Then I write, “Ugh. Help us, Jesus.”

On April 24, I write in my journal: “God, help us find a church here. It feels so hard.”

Our girls are miserable every Sunday. I copy down one daughter’s words in my journal on April 26: “I feel closer to God on the balcony [at our house] than I do in that creepy church.” ME TOO, I write.

We are out of options. Maybe we’ll try Freedom Church after all. Maybe our co-worker was wrong. She hadn’t actually been to the church herself. A friend had told her that poor people weren’t welcome. Maybe she was mistaken? We would go see for ourselves.

On May 1, we visit Freedom Church. It’s definitely not Baptist-y, I’ll give it that. But it’s giving scaled-down version of American mega church.

The worship team is all Khmer (Cambodian) but they sing in English. The songs are contemporary. They have guitars. It’s loud and boisterous. There is jumping. People in the seats are waving their hands.

There’s a fog machine.

The pastor and his wife are Belgian, but a young Cambodian guy is preaching. He preaches in Khmer while another (younger) Cambodian guy translates into perfect English.

I bring my journal to take notes on “the preach” (their word for “sermon”). At “9 something a.m.” I write:

“Sitting in Freedom Church. Don’t think I want to come back. So contrived, such a show.”

(to be continued)

But when I got journal #37, I decided to take a little detour and explore/share about another toxic evangelical institution: a church.

In May 2016, my family and I started attending Freedom Church in Siem Reap, Cambodia. According to Wikipedia, “Freedom Church is a global non-denominational evangelical church” headquartered in the UK. They have 20 locations on 4 continents.

We went to Freedom a couple times in May, then spent June and July in the US. Back to the church in August. Then, in October, our family started the Freedom Community Outreach program, where we invited kids from the neighborhood to play games, sing songs, and learn English.

The pastor of Freedom (a man from Belgium) handpicked us for the volunteer assignment after “God gave him a vision of our family leading the program.”

We had recently been fired from a Christian NGO (non-government organization) for “losing confidence” in our director (that’s a story for another time), so being offered another opportunity to love and help the poor felt like a dream come true.

And you can’t argue with a vision from God, right?

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We worked hard at community outreach and had much “success,” but it didn’t take long for red flags to start popping up left and right. Lots of things being said and done that were definitely not Jesus-approved. Other people saw it too. We know this because they told us.

Eventually, we spoke up about the things we were seeing that we knew weren’t right. The pastor did not like that one little bit.

In March 2017, we were fired. All those kids and families we had grown to love? They cut us off from them. And they told us not to tell our daughters we were fired. They wanted us to tell them that we quit. And that they were still welcome to volunteer.

IT WAS A WHOLE THING. So much unfairness, so much pain. And I wrote about every single bit of it in my journals.

When the pastor told the church that “the Tavianos are listening to the devil,” we took our complaints to the Freedom Church leadership in the UK.

We got nowhere.

Their final words to us: “Please don’t take this public. Think of new Christians at Freedom and how this will impact them.”

We didn’t take it public. What good would it have done? It hurt for a really long time.

Fast forward to 2026 when I’m reading all of this in my journals—and remembering the pain all over again—and I think to myself, “You know what? I think it’s time to take this public. I know there are a whole lot of people who have experienced spiritual abuse in churches and are afraid to speak up. Maybe they’ll recognize themselves in my story. Maybe I can help them be brave.”

THEN. Just now I googled “Freedom Church UK” to find their website, and Google offered me another option in the drop-down box: “Freedom Church UK cult.”

My jaw literally fell open. Stay tuned for Part 2.

Whew.

I’ve done a lot of podcast interviews over the past few years, and I’ve talked openly about my marriage and divorce. But this is the first one I’ve done since I read back through all the letters we wrote to each other while we were dating and the journals I filled while we were married (I’m currently on #35—December 25, 2015—just 30 more to go!)

I’m also re-re-reading a book called Growing Gills by Jessica Abel that’s all about actually getting your creative projects completed in the midst of a busy life. And I just read this today:

“The knowledge required to make the next step is in me, somewhere. I know it is. I can feel it in there, trying to get out. But I just can’t grasp it.” (226)

She goes on to say that you need to find someone to talk through your ideas/problem with.

“The second I sit down with someone to talk things through, that knowledge starts to bubble up. I talk through what I’m thinking, what I’m struggling with, and before I know it, I’ve got clarity… I just need to put myself in a situation in which I have to clearly explain my problem to someone else.” (227)

That’s what this podcast interview did for me. (Thanks, Jason.) It didn’t solve everything. I still have to write the damn book. But I feel like I just got over a really big hump.

I copied/pasted some of the transcript to give you an idea of what I mean.

*

(12:35) I’m writing a memoir about my marriage. And I have, in my possession, 165 letters that the two of us wrote back and forth to each other… and I’m seeing a whole lot of red flags that I ignored or didn’t see before I got married.

(14:15) I thought he was very attractive, but I knew that he was not for me because he was not spiritually mature. Like I could pick up on that right away, but… he liked me, and I found this irresistible.

(15:50) So these letters from the beginning, even before we started officially dating, it’s pretty much me saying, “Yeah, I don’t know about you. You don’t take God seriously. I need someone who is passionate about God, will give his whole life to God.” So I was feeding him what I wanted from a guy. And then he would feed it back to me.

(19:12) I begged God every day of my life to use me. Like use me, God, for your purposes, whatever you want. I’m like this empty vessel. Use me, use me, use me. And I meant that. Like I just wanted God to use me. He used God for his purposes. So that’s where we were different. He was using God to get what he wanted. And I wanted God to use me for God’s glory.

(19:50) I can’t diagnose him with something, but I read a book called The Covert Passive-Aggressive Narcissist at the end of last year. And I have never underlined and starred and annotated in a book more in my entire life.

(21:40) There’s another term, parasitic narcissist, where someone just uses you. You’re the host… and then once they’ve depleted you, they’re gone to go find another host. He used me for so long. And because I was so dead set on being the best Christian wife I possibly could be, I just let him do it. He didn’t have to do anything. He could be lazy. He could be selfish. I would do all of it. I would write books on how to be a better wife.

*

Anybody else stuck on a project right now? Tell me about it in the comments! (maybe it will help you get unstuck!)

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I’m rereading old letters, journals, and books I wrote to find examples of red flags I missed or ignored/denied. If I’m ever in a relationship again, I will not make these same mistakes. If I’m single for the rest of my days (which sounds lovely), maybe my discoveries will help someone else. Sharing some of my discoveries now, so y’all don’t have to wait for the book.

If you want to support my writing while I write the book, I’d love for you to become a paid subscriber.

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One of the traits of a covert narcissist according to this book is jealousy. Another is withholding praise/recognition. Another: they sabotage dates/events that are important to you.

On April 30, 2005, I had just found out I was pregnant with baby #3 after a miscarriage. I had also just gotten a book deal for my first book. And I was writing a talk to share at our church’s mother-daughter banquet that I had been asked to direct/lead. I chose the theme “Dandelion Dreams” for the event and brainstormed a bunch of fun ideas.

Because dandelions played such a big part in my childhood (dandelion pie at my mud bakery, dandelion blush, dandelion necklaces, dandelion bouquets) I planned a lot of childhood activities for these Baptist ladies: jumping rope, wheelbarrow races, hula hoops, etc. I was so excited.

On 4/30/05 I wrote in my journal: “[Husband] says that none of the ladies at Calvary are going to get up and make fools of themselves. I just thought of something—I’ll challenge them with that. A “dare” sort of tactic. “Let’s prove that person wrong!” (I won’t mention his name.)

On 5/06/05 at 11:30pm, I wrote: “Praise you, Lord! Bless your name! You were awesome tonight at the Ladies’ Banquet. You exceeded my expectations! Everything was just awesome. Everyone got involved. They all wanted to do the wheelbarrow races. Paulette Jordan hula-hooped. Janelle jumped rope. Bethany and Stephanie sang. One lady told me it was the best Mother-Daughter banquet she had ever been to because there was something for all ages.”

Then at 12:04am, I wrote this: “Husbands can be really disappointing, Lord. I just had an incredibly big night, and [Husband] has asked a couple quick questions about it, but each time I start to answer, he goes right back to talking to his X-box buddies, completely cutting me off. No self-pity. No self-pity. No self-pity.”

“No self-pity” was my mantra I’d chant to myself every time he hurt my feelings. I said it a lot. I should have stitched it on a throw pillow.

Speaking of pillows and my husband’s X-box buddies, let’s back up five days in my journal to 05/01/05 (7:47pm): “Lord, I just really want to cry. [Husband] has hurt my feelings, and I feel like hurting him. He asked me to put a blanket over our stained glass window because the sun was in his eyes while he was trying to race [Nascar on X-box]. I told him it was physically impossible. So he decided to make a wall of couch pillows. I told him it wouldn’t work, but he did it anyway. When it fell, I laughed and he said, “I really wish you wouldn’t want me to not enjoy anything.”

Another narcissistic trait: projection. He was actually the one who didn’t want me to enjoy things. He enjoyed many things, and I (mostly) tried to support and encourage that, even if I thought they were silly.

At 9:15pm, I wrote: “Lord, my husband has a temper. And these Nascar X-box guys bring out the worst in him. He throws fits anytime someone does something he thinks is unfair. He is being such a baby. No matter who he plays with, he finds something to gripe about. If he doesn’t win, he has something to be angry about. He is being a world-class jerk. I’m really embarrassed for him. He acts like he’s the final word, the authority on everything.”

Other narcissistic traits: rage, belittling, constant criticism, believing you’re always right.

7:30am the next morning: “[Husband] and I talked through that whole X-box thing. It’s all good.”

Was it though? Until next time… Sigh.

Sharing bits and pieces of insight as I go. Dear One Who Desperately Wanted a Sacred Marriage. Dear One Who Was Cheating on Her Husband (and didn’t know it). I’m ready to read those old love letters now. POV: you hate it when people tell you to “own your part” in a divorce you didn’t ask for. On mirroring and data mining.

In the past month, I’ve read all 162 letters we wrote when we were dating and taken notes. Then started in on my journals. I’ve read up through 2004 (and have 59 journals to go lol).

After reading this book, I have a whole new lens through which to read the letters, journals, and books I wrote about how to be a good wife. I know I’ll never get answers about his four (that I know of) years of cheating, but I have all the proof I’ll ever need that he has checked every single box on the covert narcissist checklist since day one.

Then, when I learned the term “parasitic narcissist” and realized that these people find a host, suck them dry, then move on to a new host, it helped me make sense of everything. All of it.

The four years of cheating pale in comparison to the twenty-four years he cheated me out of a loving, healthy relationship by taking taking taking taking.

What I’m MOST interested in though is ME.

When he exhibited these traits, did I see them? If so, why did I still marry him? Throughout our marriage, how did I explain these things away? Why did I try so hard to smooth over everything he did? (I would even write in my journal—“we just had a long talk that left me in tears but I’m not going to write about it.”) Why did I blame myself for things that were his fault?

ANYWAY. Here’s something I read yesterday. from 12.16.04. (backstory: my husband was self-employed but was playing video games more than he was working. We had a 4yo and a 2yo and I was also writing to bring in money.)

Just this week, X and I had a long discussion. We hadn’t been doing well, and I wanted to work things out. Well, it turned into something amazing. We came to the shared conclusion that X is not cut out to work on his own. He doesn’t have a businessman’s mentality. If I were the husband, maybe things would be different. I’m self-motivated with a business mind. God just didn’t wire X that way. He gets very weighed down with responsibility and he just doesn’t like to work when he feels forced to.

2004 Marla: it’s not my husband’s fault that he isn’t providing for our family. God just didn’t wire him that way.

2026 Marla: dude was a selfish, lazy ass bitch. And a parasite.

Also 2026 Marla: silver lining in those 24 years of begging him to provide and having to take care of 100% of the house, the kids, HIM, and earning enough money to pay our bills means that, when he left, my life got easier, not harder. I had built up a whole lot of muscles being wife, husband, mom, and dad.

I’m writing this book as a way to process, make meaning, heal, and move forward. I hope I can find words to express how much it hurts but how good it feels.

I’m also writing it to help other women (and maybe some men) learn to trust their own intuition instead of ignoring red flags and spiritually bypassing and buying into the lies we’re told by evangelical Christianity and the patriarchy.

It’s funner than it sounds lol.

If you care for a refresh of what I’m talking about, here you go. If you don’t care, on 1/31/26 I wrote about how I’m trying to pull all the pieces of my marriage memoir into something cohesive and awesome and it’s hella hard.

Well. I’ve had some breakthroughs.

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I’ve got this.

I really don’t think I can do this.

I’ve got this.

Don’t mind me, just talking to myself as I work on one of the most challenging projects I’ve ever voluntarily undertaken—writing about my marriage. (on the other side of it, I should say—lord knows I wrote a lot about it while I was in it)

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I wrote a post last week on IG about how I blame white evangelical Christians for where we’re at today.

A bunch of people shared it, ushering in a bunch of trolls, a bunch of awesome new folks, and a handful of people who said I needed to stop living in an echo chamber and sit down and dialogue with white evangelical Christians instead of bashing them. That I was playing into Trump’s hands by causing division.

I explained to some folks that I had been an evangelical Christian for almost 40 years. I engaged with a few good faith comments. And I blocked a bunch of people, including the ones who said “you’re probably going to delete this comment” (after I took a screenshot).

But I’ve been thinking a lot about echo chambers and why, yeah, they can be unhealthy. But in this case, I’ve been freaking dialoguing with people about this shit for over a decade now and I’m not going to do it anymore.

So I wrote this:

Why “you just want to live in an echo chamber” isn’t the insult some people think it is:

They call it “an echo chamber.” I call it “finding my people.”

I know what I care about, what I value, and what I’m against. If we disagree on these fundamental things, you’re not my people.

It’s so weird to me when people expect me to spend my valuable time and energy arguing with people who don’t share my core values.

Why would I do that?

At this point, I’m not wasting my breath trying to persuade ANYONE who supports this administration that they’re on the side of evil. (okay, except my parents)

I’ve done my time “dialoguing” with people who perpetually insist on ignorance, hate and/or harm.

WE ARE PAST THAT, my friends.

Other people might still have patience for those folks, but mine is gone.

Now is the time to gather all the people who ALREADY CARE about justice and equality and basic human decency and make a plan for overthrowing fascism and protecting our neighbors from harm.

If you’re on the side of the Trump/Vance administration and ICE and billionaires and liars and pedophiles and their enablers?

We don’t even need you. There are enough of us on the right side of history to fight evil without your help.

And also? Allow me to word nerd for a minute. Two words for you:

ECHO: a sound repeated, reverberated, or reflected back to the listener

RESONATE: produce or be filled with a deep, full, reverberating sound

RESONATE can also mean: evoke or suggest images, memories, and emotions; meet with someone’s agreement

So weird how it’s fine for me to say “I hope my words resonate with you” but creating a space where my words can resonate is derisively called “an echo chamber.”

If my words resonate with you, you’re my people. Welcome to the echo chamber. Or, if you prefer, the resonance room.

And also? FUCK ICE and RELEASE THE EPSTEIN FILES