THIS week’s viewing delved into the disturbing world of Christian cults, starting with the second season of Shiny Happy People: A teenage holy war (Prime Video, three episodes, released 23 July). This tells the story of Teen Mania, a American radical Evangelical youth movement, founded by Ron Luce in the 1980s. The organisation went bankrupt in 2015, after sadistic practices came to light, such as teenagers’ being forced to participate in Navy Seal-type hell weeks, among numerous other damaging practices.

Over several decades, Teen Mania trained tens of thousands of teenagers to be Christian martyrs, and it is no political accident that the Christian Right in the United States wields such power today. The stated goal of fundamentalist Christian groups was to take the long view and raise up a generation to seize power. They are the older millennial heirs of the angry, muscular Christianity that was sold to them when they were teenagers in the 1990s. Their political success is one possible answer to an enduring question: How do you win a culture war? By building an army.

I found Inside the Cult of the Jesus Army (BBC 2, first episode, 27 July, second episode 3 August) (News, 1 August) even more harrowing, as its activities happened much closer to home and affected children as young as babies. Begun by Noel Stanton in 1973 as a home-church movement, the cult amassed millions of followers over 50 years, centred on a strict rule-based lifestyle that emphasised corporal punishment, an aggressive form of celibacy, and unquestioning deference to male authority. After a police investigation, hundreds of allegations of abuse were made against church elders, and, according to the Jesus Fellowship Redress Scheme, one in six children in the Jesus Army was abused.

There are parallels between the two movements: both were headed by a charismatic male leader with a messianic status that was beyond reproach. Both espoused a patriarchal, violent form of theology, which over-emphasised obedience and an unhealthy culture of purity, which was harmful generally, but especially to girls and women. Both cults made a deliberate shift in the 1990s towards catering to the young by offering them a Christianised version of popular culture, with a crusading, militaristic zeal.

Heartbreakingly, survivors of both cults report the extreme cognitive dissonance of having been deeply harmed by movements that also gave them a sense of belonging and purpose, and that were crucial to nurturing their faith and inspiring them to make the world a better place. It is this painful contrast that makes recovering from church trauma so hard, as it prompts a question that is impossible to answer: how can you still be a person of faith when you’ve been damaged by the people who also showed you Christ? It is a question without an easy answer.