Gothard in a Coma: A survivor responds.
Originally a social media post on June 25, 2026.
Photo is of a very young me, serving as an Assistant at a Children's Institute.
One friend broke the news. Another friend told me.
There’s a man in a hospital today. He’s in a coma after a heart attack. The sad thing is, this man is the cause of immeasurable harm done in the name of truth. In the name of Jesus. Some of that harm landed in my own life, rippling into every corner of my family, relationships and personal well-being.
Today is a day for complicated feelings. Old memories of the sea of navy and white singing the hymn, “It Will Be Worth It All,” at the yearly Knoxville conference, while being a young teen, happy to be part of something so big. I recall stories of abuse disclosed to me, and all I had been taught to say (or understand) back then was, “I’m sorry. You need to forgive them, they’re your authority.” Then come the memories of dismantling those fear-based, high-control religious teachings that shaped the first quarter-century of my world. These memories are because of the elderly man who today is lying unconscious in a hospital room.
But this story doesn’t end with this man dying. Though I know some will want it to, understandably.
Beauty collides with devastation. Grief mingles with glimmers of hope.
Even though I struggle to put all my thoughts, feelings and ponderings into a cohesive, meaningful post here, I do wonder if that’s the kaleidoscope of awkwardness we should gracefully sit with as we IBLP-raised kids process the leader of “our” cult in a coma, likely dying soon. The good, the bad. The friends, the world adventures. The losses, the abuses. The could-have-beens, and the reality of what was.
I choose that this story continues with me. With the thousands of other “Gothard Kids” who have faced our wounds, our broken families, our mental health, our lack of preparedness for the real world, our confusion about God and our unique, unlike any other kids out there lived experiences with strength, resilience and tenacity.
We are the Joshua Generation. We just aren’t selling the story we were given. We are telling the truth of what we survived. We are dismantling systems of oppression. We are standing up to power. We are raising kids who have a voice and autonomy. We are creating lives full of joy, hope, health and peace.
We’ve had lots of practice “standing alone,” but this time, we’ve got this because we are standing alone...together. Our voices blend in that familiar choir, creating a cacophony of courage and healing that will echo to the next generations.
Be well. Be free. 💙
REBEKAH drumsta
This article is not intended to treat or diagnose any condition.
Rebekah is not a licensed therapist or clinician. Any thoughts, opinions or resources given on this site are strictly her own observations and insights based on personal experiences and study. It should in no way take the place of professional assistance.