Editorial Note: The following is reprinted with permission from Eleanor Skelton’s blog. It was originally published on November 30, 2018.
CC image courtesy of Pixabay, karishea.
So last night I was closing up for the night at the coffee shop where I work, and there were these people sitting at a table who go to an evangelical-ish hipster church in my community.
I’ve seen some of their events advertised on Facebook and I talked to them when they were part of a protest this fall. Working two jobs means I encounter many people in different spaces and sometimes it overlaps because I live in a small community.
I had mostly good feelings about them. They’ve been very friendly with me and easy to talk to when they come into my store.
But I didn’t like the tone of this meeting. They told one of their worship team members that everyone is trying to make their lives less busy and more “intentional” and he needed to be off the worship team for a few weeks.
I have no idea what sin he allegedly committed. It’s probably not sexual, because usually the punishment would be longer than a few weeks. Maybe he didn’t read his Bible often enough.
The whole thing felt off and not good.
The leadership woman who’s about my age was confronting the guy with the pastor sitting beside her, and they got him to sign this paper about church discipline.
I thought I heard her tell him, “Now this doesn’t mean stop coming to church, because then you’ll never play on the band again.”
“For me to get on the platform and sing, there’s certain requirements I have to meet,” she said.
I just kept mopping around them, silently, slowly losing more and more trust for them. The words they used were harsh and I didn’t feel like they valued him. They kept making it seem like they were the spiritual ones and he was not.
I couldn’t hear the entire conversation, and I don’t know everything about the situation. I wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt. But it’s a story I know all too well.
They told him over and over the pastor was there for him, and if he needed to talk to him during this period to please reach out, but that it was his job to seek help like he was this bad, lost person.
It felt like a total power trip. This poor guy was sitting there all shame-faced trying to survive this awkward situation, like he had no idea what they had planned to talk to him about. Like he’s just trying to not lose his community.
It’s disorienting to feel like your people are making you feel like you’re not a part of them for some perceived spiritual failing.
It hurt a lot to see people who are supposed to represent Christ treat another human this way. This is not what Jesus would do.
Note: After this happened, I asked two pastors that I trust if they would ever consider having a church discipline meeting with someone in a Starbucks. They both said they thought it was unethical and possibly humiliating to the person to have a meeting like that in a public place.
******** Shop at our Amazon store! As an Amazon Influencer, this website earns from qualifying purchases.
Editorial Note: The following is reprinted with permission from Eleanor Skelton’s blog. It was originally published on April 16, 2015.
Some people asked us what life was like after we left when I posted the UnBoxing Project series, how we handled leaving the sects of fundamentalist Christianity we were raised in.
My friends and I went through a period of deprogramming, which is still ongoing. We’d been told what to think our whole lives, what is good and what is evil, and then we found we’d been lied to.
Cults teach the people who want to leave the group that:
1) you’re the only one questioning
2) this is somehow your fault, because everyone else is compliant and does what they’re told.
This is how they maintain control, through isolation.
My best friend in college, Cynthia Barram, found some documentaries about cults and Christian fundamentalism that demonstrated nationwide trends and helped our little group of ex-fundamentalist homeschoolers realize that we weren’t alone in deconstructing from toxic religion.
This documentary is about the teenage boys who get kicked out and the girls and women who leave Warren Jeff’s FLDS cult on the southern Utah / Arizona border.
Although our experiences in the Independent Fundamental Baptist or United Pentecostal Churches were different than the Fundamentalist Church of Latter Day Saints since our churches didn’t practice polygamy and didn’t have a prophet, we shared many similarities with their deconstruction process. Like the ex-FLDS young adults, we grieved the loss of family members who shunned us, struggled to find a sense of purpose when we no longer felt like we had been “chosen” to fulfill a divine mission like the cult taught us, and worked through unhealthy ways of coping with these losses and found a better way to live.
The “Sons of Perdition” struggled to support themselves and enroll in school. The daughters cut their hair for the first time and put on pants. We could identify with their stories because of our own experiences in fundamentalist cults.
These documentaries are about purity culture and the father-daughter virginity ball hosted at the Broadmoor in Colorado Springs every year.
Daddy, I Do features a variety of perspectives: fraternity boys, churchgoing parents raising kids, abstinence-only program leaders, and progressive Christians like blogger Matthew Paul Turner. It addresses the problematic nature of a daughter promising her virginity to her father until marriage.
The Virgin Daughters focuses specifically on Colorado Springs and the father-daughter ball, interviewing the various families who attend and showing the pledge the fathers sign to protect their daughters’ chastity.
Both of these documentaries feature fundamentalist Christian parents who admit they actually were not virgins at marriage, but they want their children to be.
This documentary is mostly about an evangelical Pentecostal-style church camp gone wrong.
The charismatic camp director says in the opening scenes that America’s only hope for spiritual revival is through the hearts of malleable children. So she and the other leaders proceed to brainwash them and manipulate their emotions, telling the children that they are engaged in warfare for the good of the nation.
The film also shows the group of campers visiting New Life Church in Colorado Springs and meeting the pastor at the time, Ted Haggard.
Ted Haggard, who founded New Life Church in the mid 80s, was known for “waging spiritual war” in Colorado Springs and encouraging his church members to “anoint” streets and intersections with cooking oil, according to a Harpers’ Magazine article called “Soldiers of Christ” by Jeff Sharlet published in May 2005.
The neighbor family who lived across the street from my parents in Colorado Springs had attended New Life Church for years when we moved there. The husband and wife both worked at Focus on the Family while we were neighbors, and the wife often took a spray bottle of cooking oil on her walks around the neighborhood that she would use to “anoint” neighbor’s driveways if she felt that she sensed a demonic presence, in accordance with Haggard’s teachings.
Haggard resigned as senior pastor of New Life Church in the fall of 2006 after allegations surfaced that he used methamphetamine and had sex with a male escort in Denver. He and his wife left the city for several years, but he moved back to start another church in Colorado Springs in 2010, where he has been accused again of illegal drug use and inappropriate behavior with young men, according to a July 2022 article by the Colorado Springs Gazette.
Jesus Camp was a harrowing portrayal of spiritual abuse, but I needed this film to process what happened to me and my high school youth group in one of my fundamentalist churches, to realize how we had been radicalized for the culture wars.
This documentary is about non-denominational evangelical churches like the International House of Prayer (IHOP) group (which has also been called a cult) that has emerged over the last 20 years increasing missionary efforts, reacting against established denominations leaning away from traditional theology and missions.
They look at what happens on the other side, at the financial impact of this church planting and aid on the countries receiving these missionaries.
The documentary makers point out that people end up depending on the monetary support from the missionaries and churches in Western countries, and the evangelical churches sending missionaries use their influence to pass laws, like the one in Uganda that advocated the death penalty for LGBTQ people.
Basically, this film demonstrates missionary work gone bad.
I’ve given up on rapture theology. The whole philosophy is based on a handful of verses and wasn’t widely accepted until television preachers in the 1960s started it during the Cold War era. If Jesus actually comes back like that, great, but if not, I’m okay with that, too.
In the film, a group of somewhat clueless Texans tromp around the Temple Mount in Jerusalem, and their pastor threatens to cause an international incident by yelling that this is where Jesus will come back until security asks them to stop, reminding them that at least three different religions consider the Temple Mount to be sacred and each religion believes very different things about it.
Then they play the Star Spangled Banner while riding in a boat over the Sea of Galilee. Gotta love that American Christian exceptionalism. Lovely.
Jewish leaders who better understand the intricacies of the religious history of the area are also interviewed in the film, and it also covers the annual Tribulation Conference in Dallas, Texas.
On the lighter side, we also watched comedy movies and TV shows critiquing how we grew up.
In this Netflix-only series, Kimmy escapes an apocalyptic cult’s bunker after 15 years of captivity and reinvents herself and her identity in New York City.
The episode titles are hilarious from the obvious “Kimmy Goes Outside!” or “Kimmy Gets a Job!” and “Kimmy Goes on a Date!” to the more mundane, like “Kimmy Makes Waffles!”
I watched the first season during spring break of my last year of college and loved it, but I couldn’t watch too many episodes in one sitting because some of the comedy was too real.
When I first moved out, I was so very, very much like Kimmy, right down to her bottomless optimism. Laughing at her is like laughing at myself, which is both healing and painful.
Editorial Note: The following is reprinted with permission from Eleanor Skelton’s blog. It was originally published on March 9, 2015 as part of a series.
Editorial Note: Although Ashley is a survivor of a Christian fundamentalist cult, unfortunately she became abusive herself. She has been reported to several law enforcement agencies for human trafficking others from 2017-2019. She is the abusive partner mentioned in this post from 2022.
I keep Ashley’s story on the blog as a reminder that those who do not heal from their own trauma can and often do end up harming others. If you see online fundraisers for Ashley or her current partners, please know that anything you donate may enable her to continue to cause harm, and we would caution anyone against donating to her. If you know where she is, please report her to the authorities since she has been avoiding speaking to investigators for several years.
Ashley grew up attending the First United Pentecostal Church of Colorado Springs, now known as Heritage Pentecostal Church. This is Ashley’s story, told in her own words.
Do you know what it’s like when You’re scared to see yourself? Do you know what it’s like when You wish it were someone else Who didn’t need your help to get by? Do you know what it’s like To wanna surrender? I don’t wanna feel like this tomorrow I don’t wanna live like this today Make me feel better, I wanna feel better Stay with me here now and never surrender Never surrender. – Surrender, Skillet
“Mama! Mama! Look at the butterfly!” I squealed in delight at the wonder perched on my shoulder.
“Don’t move, Lovey! It’ll fly away.”
I stood as still as possible as my mom snapped a picture of this beautiful creature, and watched as it flew away. I remember thinking as I watched the butterfly float into a beautiful, summer day, how amazing it would be to be able to just whisk yourself away whenever you chose.
I had no idea how much I would pine for that fantasy to become a reality.
I always remember my parents being there, no matter what the occasion was. Pajama day at school, grown-up day, job day, doctor’s appointments, they were always present. I can’t remember an important event they were not there for.
I went to them with everything, no matter how strange, and they were always brutally honest with me. I liked it that way. Being a straightforward person, I needed that to grow. Things were always so comfortable — and then 2001 came and everything changed. Drastically.
My mom had gotten involved with a church when she was 15, and the experience had always stayed with her. She had visited a Pentecostal holiness church and had received what they call the Holy Ghost, which to them is the basis of salvation. You cannot attain Heaven without it, and once you have received it, even if you walk away from God, you are marked and you will be a target for Satan.
My dad, on the other hand, is Irish/German and was raised Catholic. He was actually an altar boy growing up and wanted to become a priest. However, he grew out of that sometime in high school.
While living in Louisiana, my mom met a girl named Billie Jo, and they went to a Pentecostal church together. My mom converted all the way this time (lost the pants, threw away the jewelry, chucked the TV and music) and as soon as my dad joined, we essentially became Amish with microwaves.
Ashley (center) at a church outreach and evangelism event called Youth with Truth at Acacia Park in downtown Colorado Springs on June 29, 2013. | Photo: First United Pentecostal Church of Colorado Springs
But even then, my parents broke me in slowly.
As an only child, I had practically every Disney movie known to man, and they allowed me to hand over my Disney movies in exchange for Veggie Tales. From there, it was my Veggie Tales traded in for either a trampoline or a puppy. My daddy bought me both.
They introduced me into that world slowly, and with ease. I appreciated that, even then. I knew they could have completely ripped everything away from me and made the transition harder than it already was. But they didn’t.
I never thanked them for that. I guess it kind of got buried under everything other emotion that surfaced after.
At first, things weren’t so bad. The family environment was great. Having no family in Colorado, the church appeared to be exactly what we needed. I started going to the church school which consisted of about 50 kids. I made friends quickly, and it seemed so easy at first. We were accepted as new converts and everything was cool.
My parents also made friends, and were treated like family by the pastor. They were like their kids.
I believe this is what started the depth of my parents’ relationship with the ministry. Around 2006, the pastor decided he wanted to evangelize and ended up electing a man from Mississippi to pastor the church.
I’ve never seen a man so hell bent on changing people for the worst.
Brother and Sister Burgess at Ashley’s high school graduation. | Photo: Ashley Kavanaugh
To my parents, this couple took the place of God. I have literally heard my dad say that if John Burgess asked him to stand on his head for 6 hours a day, in the middle of Interstate 25, that he would do it without hesitation.
They believe that he is the voice of God, that even if he is wrong, and they sin because of his advice, that God would honor their obedience and look past their own wrongdoing.
The church services are filled with hype and the sermons are mostly guilt, especially directed at young people. They warn us of the wrath of God if we choose to walk away and almost every service we are reminded of the horrors that have happened to backsliders all through Pentecostal history, including those from our own youth group.
One of the stories of backsliders was one of my close friends Sharonda.
She grew up with me, my mom babysat her and her older sister, and I looked up to this girl. She was my idol for a long time. She was my piano inspiration, she was cool, and she loved people.
I’ve never met a heart as big as Sharonda’s.
She was shot and killed late summer 2012. The case was never solved, and the Burgesses made not only her death, but also her funeral, an omen and message to all of us, that we should not run from God, for he is a jealous God, and his vengeance is strong.
She is seldom mentioned among the young people. It just hurts too much.
Brother John Burgess leading prayer during church outreach event called Youth With Truth at Acacia Park in downtown Colorado Springs on June 29, 2013. | Photo: First United Pentecostal Church of Colorado Springs
The Burgesses continued to push their way into the minds of the church, and more and more young people have been driven away from God.
Most of the “backsliders” that I know don’t even believe in a benevolent God anymore.
This started to become my opinion very young. I couldn’t see how any of this made sense. I thought the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob was just and honorable? Not malicious and manipulative.
After my parents began to blindly follow the pastor, I started to lose control. I shut off all emotions because I just couldn’t handle them anymore. I began to get more and more reclusive, and eventually began to blame myself for the guilt and pain that my parents were dealing with due to the controlling ways of the church.
I didn’t know how to get help, and I began to fall into a deeper depression. I began to self-harm. This was done in so many ways, I can’t even begin to explain it all. Eventually, the self-harm wasn’t enough. I attempted suicide six times, starting at the age of 11.
I tried everything. Nothing worked.
My mom caught me cutting once and literally dragged me in to Shanna Burgess (the pastor’s wife), who promptly told me as I lay on the floor, bleeding, that it was all in my head, and I needed to stop being so angry at God.
She told me I was the one to blame.
After coming to her weeks before with my heart wide open and breaking in pieces, I explained one reason why I felt so alone. I was sexually assaulted when I was 6 years old and had no way to express my feelings. She, of course, immediately took this information to my mother, who denied it.
My parents have never believed me. Sister Burgess told me I needed to stop feeling sorry for myself because come on, it never happened!
I hated them before but after this? I could never forgive them.
Brother and Sister Burgess had and still have a hold on my parents like nothing I’ve ever seen.
(Left to right) Brother John Burgess, Ashley Kavanaugh, and Kevin Kavanaugh at Heritage Christian Academy’s 2012 high school graduation. Heritage Christian Academy is a private, unaccredited school operated by the First United Pentecostal Church of Colorado Springs. | Photo: Ashley Kavanaugh
When I turned 18, things started to look up. I was finally allowed to have a phone because I had turned 18 (pastor’s rules for youth), I was finally granted rights to a car (that I bought, of course), and everything was going good.
I had been in good graces with the Burgesses and my family. I was following the rules to perfection.
And then after a falling out with my best friend at the time, I started to become close friends with a girl named Racquel. We began to grow closer and closer as the months went on, and before you knew it, we were opening up to each other. I told her things I had never told anyone ever.
Eventually, our concerns about the church and their doctrines, the Burgesses and all sorts of other questions came to the forefront of our conversations and we began to discuss them.
We grew even closer after learning about some of the abuse that the other one had endured.
We got caught discussing these topics, and we were separated and forbidden to speak to one another. This happened four times.
Each time we grew closer and closer and eventually, we started to go to extreme lengths to see each other. My parents and the Burgesses resorted to lying to both of us, trying to force us to hate each other.
After another six months of not speaking, we once again rebelled and talked about what had happened. We realized they had lied to both of us, obtaining information by hacking email and bank accounts. My parents forced me to stop attending my college classes because Racquel might try to visit me there.
We communicated to each other through Eleanor for about three weeks, and then we started to sneak out again.
We had contemplated running away many times before, but something was different this time.
When two adults aren’t allowed to talk because they get caught listening to One Direction, there’s some serious malfunction going on. It had reached an all-time idiocy and we had enough.
We both left home, and the night I did that was the hardest decision of my life.
Three days later, my dad was going to throw my stuff on the sidewalk. My mom, who was out of town at the time, convinced him to let me come pack my stuff, so he left for a few hours.
Racquel and Eleanor went with me. The first thing I noticed when I came in was that all my pictures were taken off the walls and lay facing down. Some sat in piles on the floor. I almost lost it then.
I just remember feeling like my parents died, and I was cleaning out their house.
A little later, Cynthia Jeub and another friend also came over. I’ll never forget the look on Cynthia’s face when I saw her. I walked outside to greet them, and she just looked so disturbed. But there was also pride in her eyes.
She hugged me for a good ten minutes. I’ve never expressed how much that hug meant to me.
They helped me pack up, and I decided last minute to check my mom’s car. I went to look for any remaining items, and when I opened the door, I saw that the inside of the car was destroyed.
I can only assume my dad went crazy and trashed the car. It was really scary.
Everyone was panicking because we didn’t know when he was coming back, and he had guns, so people were starting to freak out. We left not long after.
It didn’t really hit me until then, how drastic the change was going to be.
Since then, I have gone through a lot. I’ve put myself through an abusive relationship, made myself be something I wasn’t, lost connection with my family for months at a time because of “religious differences,” moved around a lot, found out I was adopted by my dad, been through a ton of counseling, self-harmed, ran from my home state, even shut my humanity off a few times.
But one thing I can say I haven’t, nor will I ever do, is forget who I am and where I came from.
I can’t express how hard it has been. The sleepless nights, the thousands of times I’ve cried myself to sleep, and woke up screaming. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.
But you know what? I don’t regret it. I can’t. I’ve invested too much into this decision to fault it.
To those of you trying to escape, it’s not impossible. It’s not easy, but I promise its worth it.
We have helped more people come out since my decision to leave, and the feeling is so liberating, knowing you are a voice and a model for them.
To those of you who have siblings that are still in captivity, don’t give up hope. They will make it. YOU are their light, no matter how dark you feel sometimes.Because sometimes the darkest shadows have been cast by the brightest lights.
And no matter what bad choices you make long the way, I’ve found that I don’t have to be ashamed of them. Because they are finally my decisions.
So while wading through your red river of screams just as we have, remember you do not fight alone. You can make it.
And never surrender…. the battle will be worth it, and we will win the war. I don’t wanna feel like this tomorrow I don’t wanna live like this today Make me feel better, I wanna feel better Stay with me here now and never surrender Never surrender
Ashley Kavanaugh attended public school during her elementary school years, but her parents later chose to homeschool her online when they joined the First United Pentecostal Church of Colorado Springs. She finished her senior year of high school at Heritage Christian Academy, the private school operated by that church. Her adopted father is an attorney, but she was the first person on her mother’s side of the family to finish high school and attend college. She is interested in studying psychology, forensics, and criminal justice.
******** Shop at our Amazon store! As an Amazon Influencer, this website earns from qualifying purchases.
Editorial Note: The following is reprinted with permission from Eleanor Skelton’s blog. It was originally published on March 7, 2015 as part of a series.
Content Note: religious manipulation, forced starvation
Eleanor and Racquel hiking the Incline near Colorado Springs in fall 2013. | Photo: Eleanor Skelton
Racquel grew up attending the First United Pentecostal Church of Colorado Springs, now known as Heritage Pentecostal Church. This is Racquel’s story, in her own words.
Somehow I never imagined that the inner peace and joy I felt as a 5-year-old girl after being filled with the Holy Ghost would later disgust and scare me.
I am writing this because I believe my voice should be heard. I hope that by telling my story it will help my healing and others with similar stories as well as prevent more stories like mine from happening.
The music was loud, and the atmosphere was pulsing with energy.
I wanted to show how much I loved God, so I went up to the front of the sanctuary and danced with all my might, letting my tears flow. I had been taught that I should dance before the Lord and not let anyone’s opinion stop me.
Often, I was the first one or the only one at the front of the church.
This was good. It meant I was a leader, and that I was fighting spiritual warfare. It would also show my pastor, who was God’s voice in my life, how my walk with God was and what a good apostolic young person I was.
I remember night after night where this was my mindset.
Racquel (far left, wearing an orange dress) speaks in tongues on the front row during Heritage Youth Conference, fall 2011. | Photo: First United Pentecostal Church of Colorado Springs
I was isolated from other members of the youth group because I would refuse to do things that the pastor had commanded us not to, like riding in a car with a guy unless it was approved or unless a married approved chaperone was in the car.
However, there were also the many, many times where I sat or knelt at the altar, weeping and feeling the guilt of my many sins when I simply failed to uphold the standards because I had listened to unchristian music, watched a TV show, or could not stick to a daily prayer life.
For years, I went through a cycle of getting in trouble with my best friend, Ashley, for questioning the pastoral authority and why we held to some of our standards, sometimes completely disregarding the rules, and then being told that my best friend and I should not talk or hang out because our personalities did not complement each other.
Meanwhile, I stood by as she was abused in so many ways by both the pastoral authority and her parents. The only thing I could do was be there for her.
In January 2013, my best friend and I had come to the conclusion that we did not and could not agree with the church. However, we were discovered yet again and ripped apart.
This time, the pastor lied to both of us, trying to turn us against each other by saying that the other one had ratted us out.
At the direction and guidance of the pastor, Ashley’s parents were punishing her for not losing weight because it was said that God could not use her unless she lost the weight. Because of her inability to meet their demands, she had begun starving herself.
I texted her one night in compassion and frustration that she should “F*** (written politely as $@##) what they think” to drive home to Ashley that starving herself was not the answer, and that her parents and pastor were wrong.
During one of the long sessions in the pastor’s office after getting caught, I discovered the pastor had hacked into my best friend’s phone and found my text.
I was questioned about my lack of respect for authority.
My hands were tied as I seethed in anger not able to tell the pastor the context of the text, lest the abuse she suffered would increase, because the pastor was part the abuse.
Back then, Ashley was too scared of losing her parents and being kicked out to do anything other than play along with them. When she was 19 years old, her parents and the pastor stripped every form of communication, transportation and even her ability to go to college from her.
She was not even allowed to be alone in her own home at any time.
Racquel (far right) singing in the choir. Apostolic churches consider leading worship to be a privilege called being “on the platform.” Anyone who questions authority or church beliefs may be removed from the platform as form of social shaming. |Photo: First United Pentecostal Church of Colorado Springs
In March, the deception worked, and the pressure finally broke me to the point that I gave in and did exactly as the church and the pastor wanted me to do. I felt helpless and that the reason for these crazy feelings must be because I was not submitted to them.
I continued to not talk to my best friend and tried to force myself into the mold they had created for me with my approved Christian friends and guilt-ridden prayer life.
I still had all of the same questions.
Why must a man my pastor dictate to me what God wants and God not talk to me directly? Why must I not be allowed to talk to my best friend who was still the most important person in my life?
How could so many injustices and abuse be what a loving god wanted?
So when my little sister decided to leave suddenly and move in with a guy I had never met, and I had no idea were she was or if she was safe, when my approved friends failed, I reached out to the one person I knew who would be there: Ashley.
Within two weeks of resuming secret communication, we had both discussed in detail what we saw wrong with the church, and had stated that no matter what we were going to keep communicating, even if it had to be hidden.
Ashley, Eleanor and Racquel in August 2013 | Photo: Eleanor Skelton
Almost immediately, she started to date a coworker.
On December 15, 2013, her dad followed her to her boyfriend’s house, and that night he kicked her out.
I received a text that said: “They know everything can you come and get me.” I immediately drove to her house and picked her up.
After that, we stayed in Eleanor’s apartment. She had also recently escaped an abusive fundamentalist home.
There has been a lot of healing and learning since then and now. Learning to live outside of the box has not been easy, nor do I think it ever will.
I now have the wonderful freedom of choice, and with that comes what I would describe as both the beauty of a rainbow and the burden of the rain cloud.
Making these choices is the scariest and most exhilarating thing that I have ever done. I have learned and accepted more of who I am.
I can only hope that healing will come in time, and the scars will become less painful.
Racquel graduated with a bachelor’s in psychology from the University of Colorado at Colorado Springs in May 2014. She struggled with undereducation from inadequate homeschooling and Christian private education in her church throughout her time in college. Racquel hopes to pursue a graduate degree in counseling and mental health, and her current job involves assisting troubled teens.
******** Shop at our Amazon store! As an Amazon Influencer, this website earns from qualifying purchases.
I had the opportunity to stand right at the head of the bed, with my mouth close to her ear. As she cried out anxiously “God, make me holy”, I whispered in her ear, “you already are holy! His blood has made you holy!”
Purpose: To understand the power of the cross limitations (if any) of grace.
Sacrifice
Leviticus 17:11 explains the purpose of blood sacrifice, “For the life of a creature is in the blood, and I have given it to you to make atonement for yourselves on the altar; it is the blood that makes atonement for one’s life.”
We see in Isaiah 59:2 that “It’s your sins that have cut you off from God. Because of your sins, he has turned away and will not listen anymore.” Because of our sins, we had no connection to God, nor any hope of ever being connected, unless there was a blood sacrifice, which was the price of forgiveness. Hebrews 9:22 says “For without the shedding of blood, there is no forgiveness.”
The only way we could be forgiven was through blood. So, Jesus, being the only sinless one, the Son of God, died in our place so that we could be forgiven by his substitution–sacrifice for our sins. 1 Peter 2:24 shows that “He personally carried our sins in his body on the cross so that we can be dead to sin and live for what is right.” I Corinthians 5:21 says, “God made Christ, who never sinned, to be the offering for our sin so that we could be made right with God through Christ.”
Because of Jesus dying as a substitute for us, our sins are forgiven and we take on His righteousness when we become believers. Matthew 26:28 says that Jesus proclaimed, “for this is my blood, which confirms the covenant between God and his people. It is poured out as a sacrifice to forgive the sins of many.” I Corinthians 5:19 explains, “For God was in Christ, reconciling the world to himself, no longer counting people’s sins against them.” Romans 5:9 agrees, “Since we have now been justified by his blood, how much more shall we be saved from God’s wrath through him!” Ephesians 1 also points out that “In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace”
There are so many verses that point to these truths that it is impossible to share them all here.
Salvation
What then is salvation? He died for our sins, so does that just immediately make us all saved? What do we have to do?
In Acts 16:30, a man asked this very question of Paul and Silas, “Sirs, what must I do to be saved?” This was their very simple answer: “They replied, “Believe in the Lord Jesus and you will be saved, along with everyone in your household.”
These people believed, and then they chose to be baptized, but the passage doesn’t hint in any way that the choice for baptism was mandatory to their salvation. In fact, in verse 34, there is no mention of the baptism having any bearing on their joy or their salvation, saying “he and his entire household rejoiced because they all believed in God.“(emphasis added)
Romans 10: 9-10 further explains, ” If you openly declare that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is by believing in your heart that you are made right with God, and it is by openly declaring your faith that you are saved.” (emphasis added)
Ephesians 2:8, written to the believers in Ephesus states, “God saved you by his grace when you believed. And you can’t take credit for this; it is a gift from God.” (emphasis added).
Although many of us were taught, or even indoctrinated to believe there was a whole list of things you had to do to be saved, these verses and many more make it clear that God wants our faith in the work of the cross…nothing we can do can save us…not baptism, not living a certain way, not anything.
Last year, several family members and acquaintances died. All were from the generation before mine, all still in the apostolic belief I grew up in. I went to two different funerals, and both were very sad, not only because of losing the loved one, but because of the things that were stated and believed by the majority of those who were at the funerals.
At my own mother’s funeral, my dad (a pastor) insisted on giving the message at the graveside. His entire admitted purpose for his small sermon was “to state the salvation message that some here may not have another opportunity to hear”. As I listened to what he was saying, it struck me anew how unbiblical it all was, and I was filled with sadness for the people who continue to believe it. He said that, “in order to ever see” her again, one had “to repent, and be baptized (using a certain formula), and …..and…..and live a life of holiness (a key phrase meant to imply dress standards)….and…submit to a pastor.”
As I listened, I knew that there were people there who, knowing I no longer belong to this group, were watching my facial expressions. When I first found my place, sensing what was coming, I looked at one of the roses on the casket, noting how beautiful it was, and I allowed my face to reflect the emotion the rose evoked. Then I froze my face in that exact expression, not allowing any change of emotion throughout the entire graveside service.
Yet, inside myself, as I listened to this proclamation of “how to be saved”, inside my head, I was hearing the strong refrain, “Nothing but the blood of Jesus! What can wash away my sin? Nothing but the blood of Jesus! What can for sin atone? Nothing but the blood of Jesus! Naught of good that I have done. Nothing but the blood of Jesus!” I wondered, as I sat there, if my dad has ever stopped to think about what he is saying, or noticed how many “and’s” he added on.
I felt sad for my dad, and for all of the people who follow this teaching. I grew up in this church and didn’t leave until I was nearly forty years of age. I know and love many of these people, who are sincere, but so very “beat down” in their general demeanor. Somehow, they keep striving, and it is never enough. It will never be enough. God sees their works, their weariness, and their anxiety. I’m sure it makes Him sad too, watching those He loves so dearly, as they try to earn what He already freely gave.
Instead of understanding that there is not one blessed thing they could ever do to earn it, they are like the proverbial donkey with the carrot on a stick in front of them, continually toiling for something they can never obtain.
Jesus already did everything that was necessary to save. Our efforts are useless and frankly, disgusting. We can’t earn it or ever do enough. It is actually insulting to think that we devalue what he did by thinking we can somehow do enough to earn our way to heaven.
There is no “and…and…and” about it. It is simple, and in that simplicity, there is actually awe. It requires a lot of faith to really understand that we are completely and totally dependent on trusting God completely and trusting in the blood of Jesus to cleanse us from sin and save us. It requires us to rest in that hope and to stop our thrashing about and striving so hard to do something that is not humanly possible.
Our attempts at righteousness are, to God, as “filthy rags” Isaiah 64:6, speaking of the sinfulness of humanity, points out ” When we display our righteous deeds, they are nothing but filthy rags.” Filthy rags stink. They are gross. They need to be washed. They are not fit to be placed at the table.
The only way we can be saved is to have our sins washed by the blood of Jesus…through faith in the work on the cross.
Security
Seeing what sin did to us, and understanding the purpose of the sacrifice on the cross leads us to salvation, but what happens after that? We are still human. Temptation is all around us, and we aren’t perfected. What happens when we sin again?
Some groups teach that every time we sin, we are again separated from God. They say that this requires us to repent (turn around and go the opposite direction) again and to re-experience the cross through prayer and a contrite attitude.
On the surface, that sounds legitimate. However, what happens if we suddenly die after making a sinful mistake and we haven’t had time to repent or pray?
Last May, when I was with my sweet, gentle momma, I saw her in dire emotional distress as she neared death. This experience forced me to begin contemplating this issue in a new way.
We’ve heard all the stories about the saints of God and their confidence and faith, dying peacefully. Because of those stories, (which I’d always believed, even if that seems naive), I fully expected to see that in this case.
Although mom did eventually find a peaceful death, I was very troubled by witnessing the extreme anxiety experienced as she first realized this was the end.
I saw clearly a conflict between sorrow of leaving loved ones behind, and the desire to see ones gone on before. This was something that I’d not considered before, but now know is a normal part of dying. Love hurts, even in death.
Beyond that conflict, I witnessed something that I had never imagined possible for my mother. She was awash in true fear about whether or not she was ready to go.
Mom had been serving God since she was a child. Although imperfect as any human, she was extremely contentious, and had never once turned away from her Christian beliefs or her service to God. My mother was widely known to be a very sweet, loving, and gentle soul who generally exhibited the fruit of the Spirit.
Yet, as she lay, suddenly aware that death was imminent, she cried out to God in fear and anxiety, asking Him to forgive her, over and over. She was yelling out for hours, begging for God to help her be holy. No amount of reassurance from my dad (whom she considered her pastor) or others was enough in that moment to calm the intense anxiety.
The experience was so troubling to me, that I have been haunted by it ever since. She had lived her entire life in a legalistic environment, as her dad was also a pastor in the same belief.
Obviously, I too grew up in the same. I remember often worrying that I’d forgotten to repent over some negative thought, or had somehow overlooked a failure that would “send me to hell”. It used to continually concern me that I’d somehow not done enough, despite my efforts. I recognized her anxiety and fear for what it was.
In the moment, my sister and my father were also aware of the nature of mom’s fears–for dad repeatedly tried to reassure her, then laid hands on her and rebuked the spirit of anxiety. By the time she had passed on, they had re-framed what occurred, altering it to fit with their beliefs. At the funeral, it was described that she “travailed for the lost for eight hours straight”. Those of us who had actually witnessed what happened knew the truth. Although she (believing that my sons and I are “lost”) did use some of that time praying for us to be saved, a large portion of the time was undeniably her own anxiety about being saved.
In this high control religion, indoctrinated with the teachings, we saw God as continually frowning down, constantly aware of any misdeeds. We pictured his frown of disapproval, because that is what was emphasized in our environment.
Knowing what I know now, I was filled with deep sorrow for my sweet, sensitive mother. She was denied the peace and assurance that she was headed straight into the loving arms of God. False doctrine had robbed her and left her afraid. I could not help thinking of 1 John 4:7-19.
Here are some excerpts (in bold is the specific portion that came to my mind as I stood by my mother and held her hand). “Dear friends, let us continue to love one another, for love comes from God. Anyone who loves is a child of God and knows God. But anyone who does not love does not know God, for God is love. God showed how much he loved us by sending his one and only Son into the world so that we might have eternal life through him. This is real love—not that we loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as a sacrifice to take away our sins. God has given us his Spirit as proof that we live in him and he in us. All who declare that Jesus is the Son of God have God living in them, and they live in God. We know how much God loves us, and we have put our trust in his love….as we live in God, our love grows more perfect. So we will not be afraid on the day of judgment, but we can face him with confidence because we live like Jesus here in this world. Such love has no fear,because perfect love expels all fear. If we are afraid, it is for fear of punishment, and this shows that we have not fully experienced his perfect love.”
In light of this passage, it is heartbreaking that someone could live almost seventy years showing the love of God, and still be so afraid of being lost.
As I witnessed her fear on that day in the hospital, I remember feeling such sadness and pain, watching her struggle, and knowing that it stemmed from legalistic beliefs about salvation and works. Now, I’m angry. I’m angry to think how peace, love, and joy was stolen from her by years of false doctrine. She knew nothing else. It makes me angry to think of her mental anguish over such an untruth.
I knew my opinion was not welcome in the family, as everyone in the room (outside of me and my boys) was part of the legalism. Toward the end of the day, I had the opportunity to stand right at the head of her bed, with my mouth close to her ear. As she cried out anxiously “God, make me holy”, I’d had enough of trying to “go with the flow”. I quietly whispered in her ear, “you already are holy! The blood of Jesus has already made you holy!” I began to quietly sing a song that one of them had written long ago “I can come to Him boldly, stand in the Holy of Holies. His blood has made me worthy. I can come boldly unto the Lord.”
Hebrews 13:12 states, “So also Jesus suffered and died outside the city gates to make his people holy by means of his own blood.”(emphasis added)
It is incomprehensible to me that a God of love would want one of his precious saints who had always loved him and shown his love to others to suffer the anxiety and distress of coming to the end of the road, feeling as if they still were “not good enough“.
Of course, none of us are good enough by human effort. Still, if our faith is truly in God’s work on the cross, would He not want us to have peace in our passing?
Romans 5:1 “Therefore, since we have been made right in God’s sight by faith, we have peace with God because of what Jesus Christ our Lord has done for us.” (emphasis added). This shows the power of our faith in him…not our faith in our own service to him.
If it is His work on the cross that saves us, then putting our faith in anything other than His perfect work on the cross is wrong. It is insulting to the suffering of Jesus on the cross to think we can do anything beyond what He has already done. Ephesians 2:8-10 teaches that, when we trust in our own works (any effort we put forth) for salvation, we are taking away from the work on the cross.
It is the shed blood of Jesus that substitutes for our death. His sacrifice on the cross makes us sinless before God.
So what about besetting sins?
In my above example, my mom had done her best to follow God, as she understood him, all her life. She had worried and fretted over every possible sin and had lived a life of contriteness.
Not everyone lives this way though, and at this point, it seems to me that living as she was indoctrinated to live is perhaps even dishonoring to God, because of the level of fear and anxiety that is present. If we love God and if understand his love perfectly, would there be such a constant fear of displeasing him?
Then, where do we draw the line? Because there is grace, does that mean we just live however we want to live, with no regard for right and wrong? Once we have faith in his work on the cross as the only saving power, does it mean we are sinless in his eyes no matter what we do from that point forward?
(to be continued)
********
Shop at our Amazon store! As an Amazon Influencer, this website earns from qualifying purchases.
Do you know what it’s like when
