Month: October 2016 | Page 13 | Spiritual Abuse Blogs

Leaving an Unhealthy Church #9: Some Must Return To Remember Why They Left

“If you really believe that, then you should go back to the United Pentecostal Church.” Did I say that? Yes, I really said that to a friend. There was a time I wouldn’t have considered it.

Earlier on, after leaving my former church, there would be times that a friend, or someone I knew online, would return to their former unhealthy group. It used to upset and puzzle me, but that changed after awhile as I gained more knowledge. Being upset was replaced with the realization that some people need to return for a period of time, in order to remember why they left in the first place.

This even happened to one lady, who during her time back in the UPC, wrote a book about returning to them. It was an attempt to help bring in the ‘backsliders.’ She worked in her then-husband’s ministry to get people to return. Then she left again, with no intention of ever returning. We were able to get together once after she left.

There are different reasons people return to an unhealthy church. They may have left before being fully persuaded in their own mind that it was abusive, unhealthy and/or that error was being taught. They may return due to fear. Sometimes the pull from family/friends and the desire for their acceptance is overwhelming. In this post I wish to concentrate on one aspect.

My focus today is what can happen when some time has gone by after exiting. The one who left may start having nostalgic feelings or may be craving the fellowship and excitement they had in their former church. They may not have gained many new friendships since their exit or they may not have found a new church to attend. During this time, they sometimes temporarily forget why they left, or may downplay the reasons, or the other feelings seem so strong that they convince themselves things will be different this time. They may even be fighting the ‘what if they are right’ thoughts.

During a time like this, it isn’t good to make decisions based on emotions or longings for the past. But sometimes it happens and the person finds themselves back at their former church or another in the same organization. They receive lots of attention, hugs, welcome backs and invitations of fellowship. Things feel sooo good! But as time goes on, and the initial love bombing subsides, they start to see once again why they left in the first place…and at times even see and experience worse things. They walk away once more.

If someone you know returns to an unhealthy church or group, pray for them. Sometimes they simply need to be reminded of why they left. God is more than able to keep them and see them through this time in their life.

Why do you say you left fundamentalism?

Editorial Note: The following is reprinted with permission from Eleanor Skelton’s blog. It was originally published on January 15, 2015.

The biggest question that surfaced during this week’s series was: “What do you mean when you say you left fundamentalism?”

I’m mostly referring to the definition that Homeschoolers Anonymous used in their 2014 alumni survey:

Christian Fundamentalism includes, but is not limited to, the following ideologies: Christian legalism, Quiverfull, young earth creationism, anti-LGBT rights, Christian Patriarchy, modesty and purity culture, betrothal and/or courtship, stay-at-home daughter movement, Dominionism, and Christian Reconstructionism. It is not limited to Protestantism and can also be seen in Catholic, Mormon, and other subcultures.

Does it mean I stopped believing core doctrines of the faith? No.

Have I wrestled with what to believe now? Yes.

I actually wrote a post on it called help my unbelief.

But many of the fundamentalist ideologies listed above are recent inventions, reacting against the hippie movement and supporting the conservative boom of the Reagan administration.

These are not central tenets of the faith, at least traditionally. My Catholic and Orthodox friends have showed me as much.

The trouble is that we mean different things when we use terms like fundamentalism. Or legalism. My sister told me her freshman seminar at Bob Jones University discussed how to avoid legalism. But from my perspective, the BJU student handbook is legalistic (check out the dress codes) and doesn’t allow college students to formulate opinions.

Why did I leave fundamentalism? Because those belief systems taught me to fear the outside, helped me to think that only people who believed the exact same set of things I did were safe to associate with.

This is why I refer to it as “the box.”

I realized purity culture can make women feel like their virginity determines their worth, and I stopped wearing my purity ring. I replaced it with different rings, rings that matched a new understanding of my worth.

I stopped believing in courtship because I realized my dad may never approve who I would want to marry.

I sold my copy of the Botkins sisters’ book So Much More during freshman year of college, because well. The Botkins said girls were more easily tainted by the college experience and should not seek out higher education.

Rebecca Davis wrote about why being a stay-at-home daughter is not a Biblical mandate in her post For Shame, Beautiful Botkins. She defends single female missionaries the Botkins condemned.

I read about how many were hurt by Bill Gothard’s teachings and abuse at Recovering Grace.

One of my chemistry professors reminded me that I didn’t have to believe in young earth creationism because “it’s not a salvation issue.” Now my answer is simply: I don’t know. I don’t care whether the universe came about in 6 days or 6 billion years. It’s a beautiful place to live, and I like to think someone awesome created it somehow.

Oddly, the Pearls’ articles against patriarchy in 2011 convinced me that my family was unhealthy: Cloistered Homeschool Syndrome and Patriarchal Dysfunctional Families, Part 2. Although their child rearing methods advocate breaking childrens’ spirits and enable abuse.

In my teen years, I knew several Quiverfull families, although my family only had us three. I loved hanging out with the family with 13 kids we knew in Dallas, and the Jeub kids made me feel almost one of them at their birthday bash in 2013. But I always wondered if they were really happy or if they hid their problems.

I read books like The Children Are Free arguing that Christianity and LGBT lifestyles aren’t incompatible. And my friend Cynthia Jeub wrote a defense of equal marriage rights, based on her own interpretation of the Bible.

I now support making all marital unions contract-based, with a divorce clause built in so breakups could be more amicable. Then religious organizations wouldn’t be forced to perform ceremonies, and my LGBT friends would have equality with any other couple.

My parents didn’t believe all of the fundamental philosophies I’ve described here. Many of them I found in Focus on the Family’s Clubhouse or Brio magazines and devotional / Christian living books I received for Christmas or birthdays.

Other ideas seeped in through guilt and fear-based devotionals like Leslie Ludy’s Set Apart Thot YouTube videos, which argue that “even the good things in our life [example: Starbucks] can become idols” and “the only true beauty comes from a life totally surrendered to Jesus Christ.”

For those who believe Christian theology, valuing anything to the point of worship would be idolatry. I believe that I give over my darkness and am healed by the light, and for me, I think it comes from Jesus. But videos and sermons like Ludy’s seem to encourage excessive self-denial and an obsession with sacrifice.

This is the problem with words like fundamentalism.

And other church buzzwords like surrender or take up your cross. (I took that last one literally in my self-harm.)

For one person, the words capture a beautiful release or fulfillment. For another, the same words trigger being crushed by guilt and self-hatred.

In leaving fundamentalism, I left behind a cult-like system of beliefs that caged me.

My friend Rebecca M. sent me an article last fall on recovery from religious abuse, which recommends: “Take a breather from organized religion for about three to nine months, at least. Deal with your questions about religion, ethics, and philosophy in an honest and challenging manner.”

This is why I only attend church services and events sporadically. Many familiar things are still painful. Rachel Held Evans described this in her post this week Post-Evangelicals and Why We Can’t Just Get Over It.

This is why it’s taken me over two years to hope I can find welcome in a church again.

This is what I left.

Read Part One, Two, Three and Four.

Unfriended Because of a Church Attended? Really?

My stepdad has had a Facebook account for about four years, but had about a year in which he was unable to be online much due to sight issues that required surgery. When he got back online recently, he discovered that a couple of people he’d known for a long time had unfriended him, or were at least no longer showing as being on his friends list.

As he started to wonder why he may have been unfriended (who hasn’t when it happens to them on Facebook?), he started to wonder if it may have been due to a check-in on his profile at a local congregation (other than the one he, my mom and I attend) that we’d attended for a Lenten program. Maybe the way that he lists his beliefs on Facebook “uncorrupted by modern religious institutions” was behind it. Perhaps they took his decision not to visit one of their churches, despite more than one invitation, personally.

Most likely, it was none of the above. People have all kinds of reasons for removing friends on Facebook, and many of them aren’t personal. I think it would be somewhat hasty to assume that church affiliation was the reason behind it without other evidence suggesting this was the reason.

This exchange does bring up an interesting question: would a real friend drop contact with you simply because they disapproved of a church you visited, your views if not expressed in a hurtful way, or your declining to visit their church? In short – no, IMO.

A friend who doesn’t have a spiritually toxic agenda shouldn’t judge you because a church you’ve visited once (or regularly attend) isn’t their cup of tea. After all, people often attend churches of various denominations due to weddings, funerals, and other events. To snub someone merely because of a one-time visit is ridiculous.

As far as dropping contact over disagreement with beliefs goes, if we all dumped people that weren’t in total agreement on everything, our social media feeds would be lonely places. Yes, it can be jarring to see someone express their opinion of modern religious institutions in such a blunt way. However, it helps to step back, take a deep breath, and realize they have a spiritual story that may not align with your experiences.

This brings me to my next point – declining to visit a church in a polite way isn’t something that should turn a rational person against you. This is a lesson I wish I’d learned a long time ago, as it would have saved me a few annoyances and some major headaches (this could be a whole post in and of itself).

Every denomination is not every person’s cup of tea. We all have different gifts and abilities that may not be able to be expressed adequately in some groups.

In my stepdad’s case, some of the invitations have occurred more than once simply because his friends didn’t realize the only type of Baptist he is now is an ex-Baptist. All they knew is that he attended a Baptist church as a kid, but not that it was because that’s where his mother and stepfather made him go.

I think many of us live in fear of offending people because of holding different beliefs, and we shouldn’t do this. Our loyalty ought to be to Christ, not the particular group that we choose to express our belief in Him.

He may have been unfriended for any number of reasons, but if any of the suspected reasons were true, he doesn’t need such “friends.” A real friend supports you no matter where you are in your journey and accepts you.

Modern Day Witch Hunts

Salem was a small village, somewhat isolated from others and fairly autonomous. Churches and other groups today can be just as isolated when they distrust “outsiders.” They may also require attendance and conformity. Religion often plays a large role in every aspect of the lives of church members in such churches–the church may tell members how to dress, what to listen to and watch, what types of jobs to get, where to go to school, when to buy a home or where to rent. These are seen as decisions needing spiritual guidance. Those who do not seek their pastor’s advice may miss the will of God or even “lose out with God” and be condemned to hell.

People in these groups seek explanations for the dangers they perceive–for some, these dangers may include persecution, poverty, or the risk of being lost and sent to hell, while for others the perceived dangers may include popular culture’s influence on their children, the influx of secular thought in public school, or the introduction of thoughts that might be considered too liberal or godless. And just as in Salem, at least some of these are explained by some as acts of the devil.

When anyone in such a group does not conform to the group, there is a risk that one of two things will happen: either the nonconformist will be viewed as an outsider and meet resistance from the group, or the group may begin to seek out those within the group that might be friendly toward the nonconformist or share some of the ideas or questions the nonconformist has mentioned or is thought to have. These people are then brought in to question themselves… and a witch hunt of sorts begins.

The nonconformity doesn’t need to be pronounced to be considered dangerous; it just needs to be perceived to exist. In my case, my sin was that I hadn’t married younger and lived alone–I looked and acted as much like them as was possible; I dressed the same, spoke the same, but I wasn’t the same since I wasn’t married. Within the same church some of the others who were “tried” had other faults: one questioned the pastor’s directives on what to wear, another was less educated, another too educated. Two questioned what had happened to me, apparently, and one went to visit another church without permission. Another fell in love with someone the pastor had not approved. These are not things most people would consider dangerous, but in the minds of that pastor and that group, they were.

Perhaps because there is perceived danger everywhere, people start distrusting each other within the group, watching for anything that might be considered dangerous in those around them. In Salem, this distrust was actually encouraged by some of the leaders, and it is in some groups today, as well. As we often heard in my former church, “Be careful who you fellowship!”

Read Part One and Two.

#WhyILeft Fundamentalism, Part 4

Editorial Note: The following is reprinted with permission from Eleanor Skelton’s blog. It was originally published on January 13, 2015.

Continued from part 3

Can You meet me in my room?
A place where I feel safe
Where I don’t have to run away
Where I can just be me. – TFK, In My Room

I was like a kid on an adventure the first night in the new apartment.

The second or third night, I called Cynthia B. crying and homesick. She said it was normal and part of growing up.

Until 2012, I never spent a night away from home without my parents. Then I stayed at a friend’s house one weekend in June before leaving.

And I had no idea how to cook.

My first roommate taught me how to make ramen in the microwave.

Dad always worried I’d burn myself on the stove or slice open my finger. Or spill something. I begged them to teach me throughout my teen years. I even planned a dinner when I was 14 and brought Mom the recipes, but Dad didn’t let me.

I started seeing through the cracks, saw how much fear had controlled all of our lives.

I biked to school and rode the bus for the first three months. Then my parents gave me back part of the money so I could buy a car in November 2012.

My second roommate taught me how to live paycheck to paycheck, how to find cheap, gluten-free food when I discovered I was allergic like her.

In April 2013, I found Spiritual Abuse Survivors blog network through a friend and soon after, Homeschoolers Anonymous.

I read about more gentle parenting methods at Permission to Live.

Through reading blogs and talking to friends, I learned it’s not normal to spank your children until they stop crying because crying is “rebellious” and leaving bruises and teaching your child to cover them is also considered abuse.

Most people, even those who grew up in church like me, weren’t spanked until they were 14 and threatened with a belt until age 18.

I started dealing with my dark side, confronting why I self-harmed.

A school counselor helped me through the first year, and my Christian counselor later came out of retirement briefly and my parents and I went to group counseling summer 2013.

Because… my parents did not back down because I left.

The first Sunday after leaving, I went down the street to visit a new church.

My family drove by while I was walking down the sidewalk, rolled down the car windows, and shouted, “Just remember, Bob Jones is still available!”

My dad sent me advertisements for cars he would buy for me if I went to Bob Jones. And a deluge of letters and text messages and emails and phone calls pleading for me to reconsider the first year I was away. My parents dropped by the Science Center on campus while I was tutoring, bringing gifts and asking me to come back.

My anxiety issues spiraled, but my professors understood, giving me extensions.

Heart and brain argued on where to draw the line. I loved my parents, but I wasn’t a child anymore. I didn’t want to have to choose between my family and my adulthood.

Which is why I identified with Tirzah’s story on Homeschoolers Anonymous last week: “Only in my mom’s sad world of jumbled theology would moving out be akin to losing one’s family.”

Everyone told me that my freedom would have a price.

But some days, I ache, wishing my family understood me. Understood my heart.

Understood that I don’t write to condemn them, I write because I’m in pain. I write because I want our relationship to change and heal. I write, pleading with other homeschool parents, “Please, don’t do this to your kids.”

I’m told that blogs are biased, I’m accused of not showing both sides.

So I’m including three open letters between me and my parents and one of the more impersonal ones my sister sent. Quotes can be taken out of context, so here is the entire conversation.

Letter from my parents 11-12-2012
(After the 2012 election. I had voted to legalize marijuana in Colorado after researching studies on the chemical effects of THC.)

My letter 7-9-2013

Mom’s response letter 7-16-2013

Letter from sister 10-27-2013
(Mostly an essay arguing that my actions require the church discipline in Matthew 18.)

Right now, my relationship with my family is inconsistent. We talk sometimes. They help in a pinch, but I fear control creeping in again.

But I know they don’t accept me or approve of me. Nothing seems to count now. Not being self-sufficient, not holding steady jobs, not graduating college this spring. Not my passion for journalism or theater.

It’s like my leaving was an earthquake, and now a canyon lies between us.

But I found others on this side of the canyon, too.

Friends who later asked me to help them escape their own boxes. Professors who encouraged my independence, who had life phase changes of their own in college. My pastor friend in Texas who listened to my story and made me want to try church again.

In July 2013, I told Lissi on G-chat:

You know what?
I realized something yesterday.
I don’t think my family is my family anymore.
I mean, I will always love them, and they are blood.
They are my kin.
But they are not the family I grew up with anymore. That is now changed forever.
My “family” now emotionally is more like Ducky [my second roommate], you, the two Cynthias, other close friends, and my professors.
You all treat me more like family and support me more than my own family does.
I think this realization makes me more okay with emotionally separating from my family, too.
Because at least I have you all. <3

She replied, “Ahhh… the Chosen Family realization.”

Yes, the fight was worth it. Now I am free. Free indeed.

Read Parts One and Two.