Identity Theft

I got this cup for Christmas from my best friend. It says “Be You.” Only a very close friend could have known the impact of that phrase for me.

As I have written before, when one is raised in the cult environment, an identity is chosen for you and imposed upon you. You don’t get to choose to be an individual or to figure out for yourself what you like and dislike. You are told who you can be and what you must like and dislike.

A few years ago, I was involved in a teacher’s education program that included a class on child and adolescent development. We were required to write and illustrate a complicated paper on each developmental milestone, and how that related to our own upbringing and development at each stage of life. The illustrations had to be from either photos or copies of art or writings that we had saved from our childhood.

Of course, by this time I knew that I had been raised in a cult, so each stage was an interesting flashback for me, but nothing really stood out as horrific until I reached the adolescent stage. In adolescent development, ideally the adolescent is forming their own identity–they often play around with different thoughts, ideas, styles, and values while they are trying to figure out who they are and what they want out of life. By the end of adolescence, ideally, they will have figured this out and settled into a worldview and formed their identity.

When I got to the stage of adolescent identity formation, I hit a brick wall. It was a revelation to me that I had never matured in that area, because I was not allowed to formulate my identity at that stage in life. Everything about my identity was dictated to me. My parents told me that they had raised me to be a preacher’s wife. I was taught how to dress, what styles were appropriate, even how to style my hair, what to like and dislike, what music to listen to, and what books to read, as well as how to interpret what I read…among so many other dictated ideals.

As I begin to realize this, as an adult, I started questioning who I was and exploring what I would want. I found that I had long ago turned off that part of a person who asks questions about life and makes decisions. No wonder it was so hard for me to make choices! No wonder anxiety raged through me on a daily basis!

I started on a quest to begin figuring out what I like, what I believe, and what I want out of life. It has been an interesting journey so far. In my 40s I am finally “Finding myself,” and the journey has been so much fun! Although there has been some trial and error, it has not been as weird and chaotic as a teenager often finds it to be.

The times I struggle most with my new identity is when I am around my extended family members who are still in the cult. That is why my friend bought me this cup. It is a daily reminder to just be me. It is a constant encouragement to cut out the overthinking and to reduce the anxiety that comes with being raised to conform.

I have made it my motto for 2017 to just “be me.” My heart is full of hope that 2017 will bring much joy and freedom to myself as I continue to overcome anxiety and the past.

Communion

I’ll miss having watchnight service tonight… the old fashioned kind with foot washing and communion and worship, praying the old year out and the new year in. Its been around five years since I was in an old fashioned watchnight service. Those held a lot of meaning for me.

Communion, renewing commitments to God, remembering His commitment to us… foot washing, starting the new year out clean and fresh, remembering we’re called to serve… prayer and worship, ending one year and bringing the new one in with praise and prayer. We had some good services through the years. But the last few have felt pushed and contrived.

Communion at the Cross from Christian Challenge on Vimeo.

There hasn’t been foot washing or communion for several years at my former church- ever. My former pastor believes that if you take communion “unworthily,” or with sin in your life or not right with God that you will die or backslide. Not the worst I’ve heard… one pastor actually taught that if there were two people in conflict in the church, serve communion and the one that is wrong will soon leave! I guess, since he believes communion can kill people, he’s decided he doesn’t want to be responsible for serving it. I don’t know. But that understanding of communion is far from Jesus.’

There are several things horribly wrong with using communion as a judgment or condemnation. Mainly, communion is done in memory of Jesus’ sacrifice, mercy, and forgiveness. Nothing about a condemning or judgmental ‘communion’ points to these. God wants to draw us closer to him, not push us away. Communion should bind us together in love and forgiveness and unity, not bring us to look at each other questioningly. No one who gets sick within the weeks and months after communion is taken should be afraid that they did something “wrong” by taking communion. Jesus said “Do this in remembrance of me.” And that is what we should do. Remember Him.

Mock United Pentecostal Debate- Mark McNeal & Marvin Hicks

Just under two hours, this is a mock debate between Mark McNeil (former United Pentecostal Church, 1990 Texas Bible college graduate & valedictorian) and Marvin Hicks, a Oneness Pentecostal minister. The first 11 plus minutes explain why this is a mock debate. It revolves around the Godhead issue, covering Oneness vs. Trinity.


Holiday Celebration

As I have been working the last two weeks, I have run across different ideas from different churches that affect children who are my clients. These differences have to do with how holidays are celebrated. Needless to say, I have definitely had a few flashbacks to how holidays were celebrated when I was growing up in a United Pentecostal Church pastor’s home.

Christmas

While I have run across several different churches in my area that do not believe in celebrating Christmas at all, that was not the case while I was growing up. We celebrated the Christmas holiday as the birth of Christ, even though my father was aware that was not actually the birth of Christ. He did however preach against having a Christmas tree, because he taught that the history of the Christmas tree was rooted in paganism. I remember once when my ex-husband, who also was against Christmas trees, gave a very vivid explanation of how these pagans apparently burned their babies in worship to their gods and it somehow had something to do with the decorated tree.

I always found Christmas trees to be gorgeous. Of course, I love pretty things and I always have, so it wasn’t just Christmas trees but also jewelry and make up, fingernail polish and many other beautiful things from which I would learn to avert my eyes because they were “evil,” and could not be admired.

My mother, like me, always loved decorating and had a fancy for pretty things. She made wreaths and flower arrangements as well as garlands with which she decorated our home for Christmas. Our Christmas decorations usually included every element that one would find on a Christmas tree: greenery, lights, ornaments, and often words of scripture such as a Isaiah 9:10.

I loved Christmas and could not wait to help her decorate the whole house. She would usually give us a string of lights and some tinsel to put in our bedrooms once everything else was decorated. This is a tradition that I carry on with my sons to this day. Putting out the nativity was always a very special part of the decorations, because it was the “reason for the season.”

We never believed in Santa Claus, but neither was he made into an evil being. We grew up with adults joking about Santa, so we took it as a joke as well. There was often wrapping paper with Santa Claus on it and we would look at children getting their picture taken with Santa in the mall. I don’t remember ever even wanting to get my picture taken with Santa. My earliest recollection is remembering that I knew it was just some man dressed up in a suit, pretending.

Still, the magic of Christmas was part of my childhood. Not knowing what was in the presents, and the excitement of getting to open them on Christmas Eve after supper, are special childhood memories.

Some of my most embarrassing moments also had to do with Christmas. In a church where the pastor is lifted up to a position of respect just under that of God himself, Christmas was a time when the church people pooled their money together to honor my father as their pastor.  I remember the embarrassment I felt in having to go to the front of the church and open presents with my family when none of the other kids had presents. I always felt very uncomfortable, because some of the presents weren’t anything that I would want, but even as a child I knew that these people meant well and I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. It was so hard to try to make sure that my face did not reveal any true feelings and to make sure that I spoke up loud enough for them to hear my thanks. I always did have the softest voice!

I remember when they started giving family gifts instead of individual gifts to unwrap. This was a lot more comfortable for me, but it also felt a bit odd. The family gift might be a new sofa, or one year it was two lazy boy recliners, covered in dollar bills.  I remember wondering if my mother would not have preferred to go pick out her own sofa. Mostly I was just embarrassed to be singled out in this manner and didn’t feel comfortable with the way things played out. As an adult, looking back, I now wonder if the instinct of a child is not wiser than the adulation of the adults at that point.

Once I grew up and married a preacher in the same cult, Christmas became a bone of contention. He had been raised in a country that was predominately Catholic, as a missionary’s son. His parents were under the impression that Catholics worshiped the nativity figures and that they were not simply representations.  As a result, he would not allow me to have a nativity scene as a decoration at Christmas time, no matter where we were living. To me it felt like taking Christ out of Christmas to eliminate this important reminder from my decorations.

In addition, I was not allowed to mix lights with greenery. I could have greenery and I could have lights, but not together. I could even have ornaments, but not in the greenery. The rules got so complicated that it ruined the joy of decorating for Christmas. My feelings about the holiday begin to be very mixed every year, and honestly I grew bitter at not being able to celebrate freely from the heart.

We were not allowed to use wrapping paper that had Santa on it, and he taught our children that Santa was evil. There were so many rules about every little thing in regards to Christmas, that the focus became more on the rules and less on celebrating the birth of Christ.  I lost the joy of celebration. It became a very materialistic time as he worked hard to make sure we spent the exact same dollar amount on people with the same relationship status.

After we divorced, and once I left the cult environment, I was so excited to buy my first Christmas tree! The kids loved it, and we decorated it together while listening to Christmas carols.  I bought the happiest Santa Claus paper I could find in which to wrap my presents, and since my littlest one was the only son who didn’t already know that Santa didn’t exist, he got to be the one to believe in Santa…briefly ( big brothers had to blab of course).

Approximately seven years later, this Christmas we had two Christmas trees! The house we are renting happens to have two living rooms, and we found a large Christmas tree on sale at a liquidation outlet. In the living room I had our beautiful big tree decorated all in blue and silver, and in the other living room, the smaller tree was decorated like the kids wanted it to be. It had Santa and penguins, reindeer and all sorts of other fun things on it.  Our stockings were hung on the mantle, and we joked about Santa coming down the chimney to fill them. The nativity scene was on the mantle, along with Christmas cards from friends and family. The joy was back in Christmas! We celebrated freely any way we wished!

New Year’s Eve

When I was a kid, New Year’s was always a spiritual celebration. It usually included a “watch night service,” which meant that we had a very long service, lasting from about 7:30 on New Year’s Eve to at least midnight. It was a very serious service, and didn’t feel much like a celebration, at least not to a kid.

The service would start out pretty normal, but often the preaching would be very “convicting.” something to do with the rapture, or how time was running out if we wanted to be saved. Sometime before or after the preaching there would be a time of “soul-searching” to repent and get our hearts right so that we could take communion without “taking it unworthily.”  Looking back, I’m not very sure exactly what curse would befall us if we weren’t right with God when we took the bread and grape juice, but whatever it was, it was a fearful moment.

I remember a couple of times when I had trouble squeezing out any tears, and I felt so guilty, because it seemed like it was almost expected that everybody would cry and weep and wail in order to get their hearts right.

Sometime, usually towards the end of the service, there would be a “foot washing service.” This would have been announced previously, along with the admonition that everybody should wash their feet before coming. The women and girls would be separated into one room, while the men and boys went into another room. The purpose of this ceremony was to humble ourselves before one another, like Jesus did when he washed his disciples feet. Since leaving the cult I have found it very odd to realize that most other churches have never even heard of such a ceremony.

The footwashing ceremony was kind of uncomfortable for me as well, because I’ve always had very large personal boundaries and I am not much of a touchy person. However, the worst moment was always when the lady who had ended up across from me got down to wash my feet.

First of all, for whatever reason, the ceremony usually involved a lot of weeping and crying and praying for one another while you slowly run your hands over this person’s feet top and bottom while the person’s feet are immersed in warm water. Then, you would take a towel that had just dried everybody else’s feet and you would dab this person’s feet, continuing to cry and pray for them. After that, you would give them the towel and put your own feet in the bucket of water, letting them repeat this ceremony to you.

The problem was that my feet are extremely ticklish. No matter how I would try to steel myself to be serious and weep and cry, the moment that person’s hand ran over the bottom of my foot, instinctive action would take place.

My feet would jerk and kick, surprising the foot washer, and causing everyone around to instantly chuckle. It was very embarrassing to be the person who made everybody lose their spiritual vibe and turn such a serious occasion into giggles. After that, it was always a little hard to weep and cry over my feet. I can’t say I miss that ceremony at all.

After leaving the cult, I’ve never quite know what to do with myself on New Year’s Eve. Those “watch night services” usually were the introduction to January’s church wide fasts.  The entire month of January all of the congregants were encouraged to be involved in different types of fasting. Some of them would fast the entire month and have nothing but water, while others would do a “Daniel fast.” Still others would fast one day a week during the month.  The purpose of this was to get everyone’s heart prepared for starting the year out with a “revival.”

For the last few years we haven’t really celebrated on New Year’s Eve at all. We will stay up late watching movies and reading books, and then go to bed once midnight has arrived. This year I wanted to figure out the joy of celebration for New Years as well.  We shall see how that goes, as I really have no idea how to celebrate it. It’s a far cry to go from a sad, serious, and fear filled “watch night service” to a fun celebration. Only time will tell how we manage to put the past behind us and create new traditions that are fun and celebratory.

The Still Small Voice

So you’ve faced a storm lately? Faced deafening winds, the heat of fiery trials, earthquakes that seem to shake everything right out from under you? Listen closely. Maybe there have been a lot of earthquakes and fires and wind in your life. A lot of huge, noisy, tumultuous, chaotic occurrences. Disasters, if you will. But they weren’t God, no matter how many people would like to say they were. Listen closely, now that they’ve passed. Sometimes what sounds like silence after all that deafening noise is actually the whisper of God. (1 Kings 19:12-13)

Elijah knew that none of those things that came before God was God. He was on a mountain in an earthquake. Did he cry out? Did he wonder if what he was experiencing would crush him? I would have. But he realized, somehow, for all his fear and upset, in spite of the drought and the wickedness and a king and queen who killed prophets like him, that the fires and earthquakes and winds weren’t God. They came before, proclaiming the power and glory of God, but they themselves were not God. God came as a quiet whisper. Gentle. In the hush after the deafening noise. I wonder if Elijah realized the parallel to his life? That God wasn’t in the craziness of the world around him, in the actions of Ahab or the wickedness of Jezebel, the dryness of the drought or the fury of the rain, but was there, nonetheless? I wonder if he realized though that God would proclaim His glory even in those stormy situations, that His great power would be known even in those things that shook Elijah’s world? But that it would be through those quiet whispers, almost missed after the tumult, where he found God’s strength?

It’s easy, in life, to look at what we consider our most desperate and darkest situations and think that God isn’t there, or that there’s no way God could get glory from those. But we don’t stand where God stands, on the edge of eternity. We don’t know the plans He has or the beauty He foresees for each of our lives. But He does. The God who spoke to an earth without form and void and made something very good out of it is still speaking to bleak situations today. He is still creating, and recreating, our lives. Listen, and maybe you can hear His whisper, too.

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