The Inner Authority Project

Not All That Glitters Is Gold: Religious Trauma, Discernment, and Learning to Trust Yourself Again

Friday, June 5, 2026 | Orange Beach, Alabama

Today, while on summer vacation with my family (Orange Beach, Alabama, to be precise), I wandered down the shoreline alone in search of a little peace and quiet away from the crowds. With my toes in the water, glittering particles of sand dancing with the light, waves crashing against the shore, and seagulls chattering overhead, a familiar saying came to mind:

"Not all that glitters is gold."

(This saying originated from William Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice in 1596 and was originally worded, "All that glisters is not gold.")

I'd heard that phrase many times in a religious context. Growing up in north Georgia as one of Jehovah's Witnesses, I remember variations of that message being repeated from the podium on Sunday mornings. Elders would proclaim with deep conviction, "Be CAREFUL of the temptation of the world—it is not what it seems."

Even at thirteen years old, I understood the importance of discernment and looking beyond surface appearances. Even now, as an adult, I still value healthy skepticism and wise judgment.

But sitting restlessly in my seat as a teenager, I also remember another voice inside me quietly asking:

What if things could go well? What if life itself is good? What if good things are waiting for us? What if I can want more, ask for more, and hope for better?

Our study materials reliably included images of plagues, wars, economic collapse, natural disasters, death, and famine—reinforcing a narrative of impending doom.

And yet, there were so many moments when a deeper part of me simply couldn't buy into the message. An internal rumbling against the indoctrination persisted.

I understand now that life involves pain, disappointment, and heartbreak. But goodness—and gold—are still very real.

Maybe that's one of the more subtle wounds of growing up in a high-control religion: not simply learning to be cautious, but learning to become suspicious of goodness itself.

Suspicious of your own desires. Suspicious of your instincts. Suspicious of people outside the organization. Suspicious of opportunities, curiosity, celebration, ambition, pleasure, and possibility. Suspicious of life itself.

Over time, these messages can become internalized: If something feels too good, there must be a catch. If you're happy, be careful. If you're thriving, don't get attached. If you're excited, lower your expectations.

The world becomes a very dark place.

And yet, healing from religious trauma often asks something profoundly brave of us: to remain discerning without becoming cynical, and to maintain some shred of hope.

For many survivors of cults, spiritual abuse, and other high-control systems, learning to trust yourself again requires intention. It often involves confronting fear-based doctrine, rebuilding a sense of psychological safety, and gently re-regulating a nervous system that has spent years anticipating danger.

The truth is that not everything that glitters is gold. Some things that appear beautiful can indeed be harmful. Some people will disappoint us. Some promises will be empty.

But the opposite is also true.

Some things really are gold.

Some relationships are safe and reciprocal. Some communities nurture rather than control. Some faith communities foster freedom rather than fear. Some dreams are worth pursuing. Some people will embrace and champion your growth instead of diminishing it.

Standing there on the shoreline, watching the sunlight catch the sand beneath my feet, I found myself wondering whether recovery is not just about learning what to avoid, but also about learning what to embrace.

Maybe healing isn't merely resisting what harmed us.

Maybe it's allowing ourselves to believe that goodness exists—and that we are worthy of experiencing it.

So yes, not all that glitters is gold.

But some of it is.

And perhaps part of recovery is giving ourselves permission to find out the difference.

Come back to life.

— Sara Giles, LCSW
Founder, Renaître Therapy