Category: scare tactics | Spiritual Abuse Blogs

Outside the Box: I wish I didn’t know

Editorial Note: The following is reprinted with permission from Eleanor Skelton’s blog. It was originally published on March 1, 2016 as part of a series.

Continued from Butterfly Support Group

Today’s post is from a friend who wishes to remain anonymous.

Content note: child abuse, domestic violence, marital rape

Nostalgia is defined as a sentimental longing or wistful affection for the past, typically for a period or place with happy personal associations. The memories of childhood often evoke feelings of longing for a time when happiness abounded.

For some, the wistful, longing feelings of youth give way to an all-consuming emptiness. The definition of a ‘lie’ is to tell something untruthful. The state of untruth, of chronic deceit, replaces any feelings of nostalgia from my past.

I had no uninhibited feelings of curiosity. I lived in constant fear of ‘rebellion.’ An older sibling was always on the verge of a ‘dangerous path’ for some indiscretion.

My youngest memories are of parents whose marriage was on the rocks. In an attempt to maintain the family unit, I was used as a human shield.

I have vivid flashbacks of my father trying to force himself on my mother. The innocence of youth was torn from me at an early age. Every sense was violated by the presence of inappropriate boundaries, or lack thereof, with my parents.

My mother would rarely sleep with my father and usually when she did, I was placed between them.

I was her safe haven. As far back as I can remember, I was her shield, both physically and emotionally. I was not allowed to interact with my other siblings, creating animosity between myself and my siblings.

I was rarely allowed out of my mother’s sight. I was 17 years old before I was allowed to stay at home even if she was only grocery shopping.

However, as with every child, I bonded with my mother. I remember the normal feelings of wanting to please her and gain her approval, which was always elusive. I never knew when she would praise me or attack my “rebelliousness.”

Throughout my childhood I was not allowed to have friends, but I was very close to my sister Faith. We were never separated, which was by my mother’s design. Faith was the other half of the human shield. Combined, we formed a human triangle. We were a unit, it was as though Faith and I were appendages of my mother.

As a child, I was unaware of the cage I was living in.

I was not aware that I was being used as a shield to save a failing marriage. In many ways, I was like any other child.

I loved life, I was curious, I loved my family. I loved my parents. I was sure they really cared for me more than anything. I ran wild on our five-acre plot. I loved the creek near our house and my stuffed animals. I loved my mother’s cooking. I loved to bake cookies and play silly games with Faith.

The young child in me loved life, happiness and wanted only a safe haven, a place to explore the world without fear. But cages are a result of fear.

Paranoia resided in my parents, causing them to isolate their children, allowing us little contact with the outside world. We lived in a cage of patriarchy, guided by an “umbrella” theory of God. The gist of this theory was that our father was the portal through which God gave his will to children, especially girls.

It was my father’s duty to make sure his daughters were “pure” before marriage. It was my father’s duty to give his daughter to a worthy man, meaning he felt entitled to be heavily involved in any dating relationships. Young girls were not allowed to have opinions, much to the dismay of my spunky nature. I wanted opinions, I wanted respect. But I was rarely allowed opinions, and I was often mocked.

Becoming an adult in such a cage was confusing and stressful. Conflict burned within me. I loved my parents, why did I have to choose between them and the world? Was God as rigid as they claimed? Did God think women had a voice? Were women only meant to have babies? Does God hate me if I sin? If I lose my virginity will I go to hell?

Growing up in a cage also makes the bars of the prison cell harder to see. When talking with people ‘outside,’ it was strange when their responses to my circumstances were not in agreement with my parents.

You mean it isn’t normal to sleep on the floor of my parents’ bedroom until I was 14-years-old? You mean God made men and women equal? It isn’t normal for children to be told they are half-aborted? There is such a thing as marital rape, that isn’t only possible if you are unmarried? How can a husband rape his wife, aren’t they supposed to have sex?

Coming out of the cage, realizing my childhood was merely a chess game, in which I was nothing more than a shield, was more than painful. Adequate words are not available to explain how I can no longer look back on my youth, frolicking in my backyard without thinking about the cage I was in.

I cannot think of my long talks with Faith at night, memories I formerly cherished, without remembering how we were really drowning out the screaming of my parents. We were the shields, my life was a lie.

I can no longer see the remnants of my former life without feeling the stabbing pain of the lie of childhood. I cannot look back at my young self without feeling pity.

Sometimes I long for the home I thought I had as a child. I long to be a child again because I realize I never really experienced childhood. I was never in a safe environment. Sometimes I feel starved of love, ill-equipped to handle adulthood because I was not nourished. Just as bones break when they lack protein, the heart breaks when it lacks love.

The phrase, “I wish I didn’t know now what I didn’t know then” rings true for those who look back and see a dark past where once they saw a blooming meadow.

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Sacrifice, Salvation and Security

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)

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When Suicide is Selfless (Part One): Within the Cult

Looking back, I still remember the first time I felt hopelessness completely overtake my life, enveloping all joys into sorrow, and laughter into days of tears. The compassionate mentor who became an explosive dictator demanded to know every detail of my past sexual encounters. He likely wanted some form of company as his black Grand Prix was struggling to shift from first to second gear on the highway, plugging its way home on a grueling one-hour drive from work.

At first, I refused, knowing the phone conversation to be inappropriate between a forty-something year old married man and an eighteen-year old college student. He repeated his demands through coercion and manipulation until he finally resolved to threats. His wife- we’ll call her Mrs. Julie- was my friend, mentor, and accountability partner and we were supposed to talk on the phone in a few minutes, at four-thirty as we did every weekday. We would go over a list of daily questions, had I given in to any one of multiple temptations, as well as any other issues to discuss in the spiritual walk of a college girl. He knew I was emotionally and spiritually dependent on her and he used it to his advantage. Once again, he cut off all communication between Mrs. Julie and I until I conformed to his wishes. I also wasn’t allowed to tell her that he cut off communication, but simply leave her in hurt, broken trust, as she was a woman who highly valued dependability, loyalty in friendships, and keeping one’s word.

He was jealous of the time his wife spent mentoring teenage girls, and particularly her time with me. He often accused me of loving his wife sexually and would even direct me to a different room in his house to establish that his wife was his property. Now, with his vehicle falling apart, requiring expensive repair, he needed some semblance of control. Or maybe he needed some sick fantasy to aide in the time and distract him from the stress of the current situation, probably because he withheld from his wife as a form of sexual and emotional control as well. Defeated and concerned about Mrs. Julie, however, I gave in to his perverse commands. Thankfully, as a virgin, the account was limited, but he wanted to know every detail of petting, kissing, touching, and discovery.

When I was finally able to call Mrs. Julie, I had to explain why I was so late. But upon hearing the circumstances, she wasn’t angry with her husband- we’ll call him Brother Thomas- she was furious with me. She was livid and tried to have me see it from her perspective: a young teen girl expounding to her husband about her sexual life. I had crossed a line that no one knew how to rectify. Once again, I was the wedge between her and her husband. I was the one who caused the argument.

I was caught between a rock and a hard place, simply longing for all to be at peace. If Brother Thomas cut off communication entirely, Mrs. Julie would never forgive him, driving that wedge yet deeper. It would literally break Mrs. Julie’s heart for either one of us to break off our friendship, but here I stood: between Brother Thomas and Mrs. Julie, always trying to do the right thing, but continually making it worse.

There was no solution except for me to just be out of the picture so no one was to blame. And so began what I would later learn are called “intrusive thoughts”:
“What if that truck behind the church swerved just enough to hit me where I stood?”
“What if the shuttle driver over-corrected and we went into a ditch?”
“If only that car lost just enough control, and I would no longer be a detriment to their marriage and Mrs. July would be able to move on without the continued heartache.”

Looking back, I see how Brother Thomas was perverse. I see how Mrs. Julie placed the blame on me when her anger should have been directed towards her husband. I see now how it’s better that my life didn’t end that semester- I now have a loving husband and beautiful children! -and I can see now how they weren’t worth my life. But people continue to say that “suicide is selfish.” Let me tell you, it’s not always selfish. Sometimes it’s selfless.

Sometimes it’s from being beaten and berated to the point that one no longer sees the value in their own life, only that the end of their life would end the torment in another’s life. It’s not true, but nearly impossible to see in the moment. Depression and suicide lie. Spiritually-abusive cults continually remind us that we are as worthless, sinful worms in the eyes of God, when in reality, we are His treasure.

***If you are contemplating suicide, there is no reason to be ashamed nothing good comes out of a life lost. You are truly precious in God’s eyes. Seek out a friend or family member, a general care provider, or call the Suicide Hotline at 1(800) 273-8255. You can also text 741741 and a crisis worker will text you back immediately and continue to text with you. It’s a free service to anyone who lives in the United States and it’s run by the Crisis Text Line. Suicide isn’t always selfish, but it fails to show that there are other ways and your life is worth living.***

When Suicide is Selfless (Part 2): A Mother’s Love

The hardest thing about spiritual abuse

In early 2000 I was thrown out of a church. The process lasted several agonizing weeks, but things had been very bad for months. There was the man who kept telling me he was praying I’d lose my job because I was a woman and should work close to the church. There were the high standards that made no sense to me, the preaching about begging God for a special revelation of oneness because if you didn’t have that you would surely go to hell… after all, if you didn’t have that, you surely didn’t know God. The pastor bragged about his long fasts and groaned about people not wanting to ‘hear the truth.’ He didn’t share information with everyone, just with the men. The men were to tell their wives at home, which excluded me as a single woman. He told me that I needed a man over me, that I should either get married or move home to my dad’s house. Neither of those was an option. And there was the sermon about how if we leave our local church we have cut ourselves off from God, from life, from forgiveness, as though we have amputated ourselves from the body of Christ.

I remembered last night how, on December 31, 1999, I was terrified that God was going to come back and thought I’d surely be lost. I spent that night on the living room floor, sobbing and begging God to forgive me for who knows what, and never feeling any peace or forgiveness. I realize in my mind now that what I was dealing with was not conviction but condemnation, and fear, not godly sorrow or repentance. There was no peace or forgiveness because I wasn’t repenting of anything. I’d done nothing wrong except attend where I did and believe what I did, and those weren’t things I would recognize should be repented of for many years.

God didn’t come back on December 31, 1999. The pastor told me about a month later that he discerned I had bad thoughts and if I didn’t change, he would throw me out. He then left town for several weeks. How does a person change thoughts someone thinks they have, but they don’t? I ‘repented.’ I spent hours more on the floor, sobbing and asking God to change me. I stopped eating, thinking I would fast until they returned. But I thought they would be gone for a week at most, not several. I finally had to eat, and felt I was condemning myself by doing so. I tried to reach them by phone so that I could talk to them before breaking my fast, but they wouldn’t answer at first and then answered only to tell me to stop calling them. I called everyone at the church asking them to forgive any offense real or imagined, and was later accused of calling them threatening to kill myself instead.

These things had a psychological impact, but the spiritual impact was greater. I’d started attending there with a fairly healthy view of God and faith. By the time I left, my self confidence had been torn out from under me (I felt guilty just for being invited out to eat, because ‘saints’ shouldn’t eat with the ungodly-1 Cor 5:11), but more than that, my faith in God had been shredded as well. I repented, but I hadn’t felt forgiveness, and certainly hadn’t seen any forgiveness from others at the church, not even the ‘man of God,’ the pastor. I begged God for the special revelation we supposedly must have, but never really understood or experienced anything about this ‘revelation’ as the pastor described it. I fasted for days but was still thrown out. My pastor had discerned something evil in me, some thought I didn’t know I had, and though I’d prayed and fasted and repented, things only got worse.

Above all of this, these things had happened during a time when I’d thought I was closest to God. I was praying in tongues often, studying the bible, feeling the emotionalism in church, living by the high standards set, close to the pastor and his family (at least in my mind), repeatedly playing the sermons and music I was told to, and was very involved in bus ministry, Sunday School, and music at church.

All of these ended the night the pastor called me and told me never to come back. No one but me ever realized they ended, because that night I lost every person who might have known. I went to another similar church, but was told there to pretend nothing had happened and just ‘move on’. I couldn’t move on, though, and I couldn’t talk about the reasons I couldn’t, since I was to pretend nothing was wrong… and since admitting these things would have been good reason for the new pastor to label me ‘backslid.’ The only thing to do at that point would be to ‘pray through’. More fear, more nights on the floor sobbing, begging God for something that at that point I knew wouldn’t happen. To make matters worse, just as I would start to heal somewhat and begin to feel that there might be hope, something else would happen and the doubts would come back, as well as all of the memories.

Of everything that happened in my 19 years in Pentecost, that’s what had the most lasting damage. That combination–the fear, the condemnation, the false teachings that backed them, but most of all the doubt that they instilled. Not just self doubt, but faith shattering doubt of the Bible and of God.

Things are better now. I am healing, slowly. There have been times I wanted to just walk away from all of it. It would be easier not to believe than to fight through the mess that was left after everything happened. But there have also been times of learning and growth, and for me, these have been the most healing, times when I saw the scriptures that were used against me in a different light and I realized how wrongly they’d be used, times when I recognized some of what caused the damage and was able to rebuild, to heal, and to finally move forward, not as though nothing had happened, but in spite of what has.

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How Long Is Your Skirt? (Er, How Holy Are You?) Pt. 2

In response to my last blog, the SpiritualAbuse.org Facebook Page received a large number of comments. Thanks to everyone who viewed the blog and left a comment. Some were nice, some disagreed with my view, but were still respectful, and some were a bit nasty.

I don’t see the value of rude behavior in an attempt to prove tradition as biblical truth, but some go for it, anyway. Regardless of one’s position on the issue, one can disqualify his point by being a nasty person. Please remember that when commenting on Facebook.

Moving forward…

On the Facebook Page, one lady posted this picture as a response to my last blog post:

It is supposed to illustrate the transforming effect of a woman who reads the Bible. Do you notice how the picture only examines the outside dress of the woman? It doesn’t make one mention of the heart! I state this because outside appearance is how too many people define modesty and holiness. This picture, used in Apostolic circles, reinforces that false notion. (BTW: There is no scripture posted with the picture that states a woman should always wear skirts. )

Reading and applying the Bible can transform an individual’s life. But, if you end up in a church telling you how to dress, then you’ve walked into something that is taking advantage of the transforming power of Grace. This is something cults do. It’s common for cultic teaching to take an ounce of truth, and then spin it into a pound of errors.

This picture does exactly that; it deals in extremes. If the Holy Spirit actually leads a woman to wear a dress, that is fine, but that still does not make it a biblical truth for all other women. In that instance, it is a personal conviction – nothing more. The Spirit leading a person in this direction does not automatically make it a universal rule for all women to follow.

When a personal conviction is taught in such a way that everyone must submit to it, this becomes an instance in which a truth has been twisted into a lie.

If you are in a culture which teaches that modesty for women IS wearing skirts, it’s more probable that peer pressure is directing you to do likewise, not the Holy Spirit.

Like I mentioned on my last blog post, this teaching is from man. It’s a man-made tradition. There is no scripture that states a woman has to wear skirts to be modest.

In one response, a lady questioned if all United Pentecostal churches taught this doctrine. I replied that I was a licensed preacher in the UPCI for several years. I traveled, I evangelized, and I got to know a lot of pastors in that organization. I will agree with you when you say that “not all apostolic churches make their members wear skirts,” but, I still stand by the fact that the majority teaches and believes it as being “truth.”

Here’s why – when an individual wants to become a licensed preacher in the UPCI, he or she has to sign a document which basically says one has to teach and believe in that doctrine. If one does not sign the document, a license will not be received.

Personally, I have known some ministers who signed the document, yet didn’t push the ‘standards’ issue. I also know about the kind of pressure and abuse they have received from the majority within the organization. Then, there is also the fact that they signed, and agreed, that they WOULD teach that doctrine. If you don’t agree to teach it, you won’t receive the license.

This is one reason why I gave up my license. I couldn’t lie. I could not tell them that I would teach their doctrines, and then turn around and teach something else.

The organizational teaching is that women have to wear skirts. They say it’s the “truth,” and in reality, it isn’t.

The Bible does teach to dress modestly. I believe that goes for both men and women. I also believe that some have taken advantage of that teaching, and have defined it as something it’s not.

Because of this post, I’ve asked people to give me one scripture that says a woman has to wear a dress. Instead of getting a scripture, I received in response, a lot of hate, mockery, and side-stepping of the question. Why did I get that? Because the teaching is not biblical—and a lot of people are enslaved to the lie.