Harmed In The United Pentecostal Church Part 4

In two groups, I asked people to share how they were harmed during their time in the United Pentecostal Church. People were also able to respond who exited a different group. I received enough responses to make at least five blogs. These are used by permission and are anonymous. Some responses have been edited for spelling and punctuation. The ones included in this part were from the UPCI or other Oneness Pentecostal group as well as one from the IFB. Each person is separated between using and not using quotation marks. After reading this series of posts, perhaps many will better understand some of what can happen to people in abusive churches. See also Part One, Part Two and Part Three.

Only a robot could come through what we’ve all been through unscathed and without a myriad of mixed emotions, regrets, issues and more to unpack and sort through.

For a very long time, I have been contemplating whether or not to share my story on here, but I feel like it’s time. My biological father joined the UPC when I was around 13 years old. We believe he has bipolar disorder and the structure and strict nature of the church catered to his mental processes. As I got older, I began to realize how warped everything was. He would comment on the size of my chest and say that I needed to “work extra hard to be modest.” He would financially manipulate members of the congregation and our pastor in order to get what he wanted, and since he was a big strong man, everyone feared him.

I specifically remember one night I made him especially angry. I was talking too much, and women are to be seen and not heard. Five years later I was diagnosed with ADHD so it was truly out of my control. He took me by the forearms and threw me against a wall, giving me a concussion. He took away my phone so I couldn’t call for help. But it was all okay because I was “disobeying the Lord so I needed to be punished.” I was so scared for my life that I contemplated climbing out my second story window to run and get help. The next day, I tried to tell my youth pastor about it and all he told me was that I didn’t have the marks to prove it. This wasn’t the only time. Many times I would go home to my mother’s house with bruises, fat lips, and other injuries. He spanked me until I turned sixteen and left. Quite soon after joining the church, my bio father became involved with my babysitter, a woman from the church who was eighteen years younger than him (whom I despised). He told me he was going to marry her. That was the tipping point.

Three years later and many blocked numbers, emails, and a name and address change, he will still occasionally show up at my work or find a way to contact me. I work at a Texas Roadhouse in Wisconsin, and I see a lot of people from my old church come in. Almost all of them have tried to get me to come back. I would tell them what my father had done and no one ever believed me- up until one day, when I was sweeping my section and Jennifer happened to be in the section over with her husband and recognized me. We ended up talking for at least an hour about escaping UPC. It was so great to have someone who not only believed me, but understood what I have gone through.

I guess my message here is that it does get better. I used to go into full blown mental breakdowns when he would show up at my work. Now, I have the ability to have him removed from the premises (I’m so thankful for my managers) without the bat of an eye. I have a stepdad who has agreed to legally adopt me as an adult and loves me more than anyone else has. I have a new family through him, and I have this group as a wonderful support system. Because of the UPC, I developed Major Depressive Disorder and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. It’s now being treated, and I feel more in control of my future. The church no longer affects me, nor has any power over me. I am grateful to see members from my own former congregation in this group who knew him and the trauma he incurred. After I left I realized just how much the church enabled him, but they didn’t win- we did…..

The stories never end. I always cared for my mother, who lived on $780 in social security, I paid for her phone, medicines, often groceries, etc. And still, the pastor told her, she needed to find a way to pay tithes and offerings.

Sick men, who shopped at Sacks 5th, all family members drove BMW’s, and they made a little lady with $780 who couldn’t afford to live, support them.

My issues happened in an IFB church with a cult-like family. I am STILL IFB.

1. The Bible is now filled with landmines and concepts I’m now terrified of. Prayer is the same way.
2. I was called a harlot for being interested in the man who is now my husband, and it still crosses my mind if I didn’t marry the wrong person because what if I didn’t wait on God and I just married the first person that liked me back, as I was accused of.
3. I would go into full-on panic attacks when a man walked into my place of work passing out tracks
4. I truly thought it would be better for everyone else around me if I was dead. I caused problems for the wife because her husband was always cutting things off because of things I did. And I couldn’t get him to stop. He wouldn’t stop, but for me to back out of the friendship (cult) would hurt her so deeply….it would have been better for me to die….but I couldn’t do it
5. I’m currently unable to handle the idea of the calling that God has called us to (missionaries) because of triggers….but then again, my (future) husband and I were told that with women that had emotional issues like I had, may never make it to the field……..
6. I’m afraid I will never be where I should be spiritually and that God has/will just put me on the shelf…and that that will affect my family

I was yelled at for hours by a man who we had deemed was an authority in my life since my parents weren’t Christians. He had me do chores in his house to keep me away from his wife because he thought I loved her in a sexual manner. He wanted to keep me away from his teen boys because he accused me of fantasizing about them throughout a church service (even forced me to “admit” it once), but he wanted me to spend as little time at my parent’s house because they weren’t saved, and thus a bad influence. He accused me of looking at the billboards and forced me to stare at the back of the seat with my head down when in their vehicle, yet insisted on inspecting every article of clothing that I wore. He told me to burn a skirt… I still remember it was black with little blue flowers and green leaves… because it was too short. It went to mid calf when sitting. He told me to get rid of my heels because they are prostitute shoes, and certain shirts (that his own wife bought me) because he decided they were too tight. What’s strange about it? Goodwill is still a trigger. His wife took me shopping before Bible college and I had several outfits that were fitting for a homeschooler going to Bible college…but those times were special. When I see Goodwill (etc), I think of those times and they hurt…. Then it triggers the anger of what her husband did. But it hurts deeply and I can hardly set foot in a Goodwill without panicking, 10 years ago this summer.

I remember the summer after freshman year… Six days before I was supposed to start courting the man who is now my husband… The man convinced my (now) husband to break things off. I was broken that summer…but I wasn’t supposed to contact any friends from college because they were a “bad influence.” There was to be no contact with my now-husband, though the wife (my friend/mentor) contacted him to find out how his dad was doing since he was supposed to have quadruple by-pass surgery. The man, Randy, assumed that I had made contact with my (future) husband. He berated me over and over again, hurling threats of things he would take away or things he would do that would make my life miserable. At one point…he called my future husband and started berating him. I ran to the bathroom and locked the door….lights off, I huddled up on the floor against the door and sobbed…. He was calling the man I loved, the one I wanted to marry but knew I had hurt so deeply… Now Randy is tearing him apart, causing him more hurt, and there is nothing I can do about it.

It was later that summer that they broke me enough to the point that I had decided I wasn’t ready for a relationship and maybe this wasn’t the man I’m supposed to marry. The only reason I was allowed to go back to Bible college was because I thought I wasn’t ready, the wife had contacted my future husband and he said he wasn’t ready, and that there was a good chance he wouldn’t make it back sophomore year right away due to finances.

My husband too went broke due to the UPCI and his ex wife’s beliefs that were drilled into his head from a young age. She was paying thousands of dollars a month into the church to “build” her and her parents status in the church, but the bills at home weren’t being paid on time and he was laid off from time to time due to work flow! We are free from that church now, nothing has struck us down, and almost five years later the bankruptcy that the “Church” put them in is finally paid off next month! We still tithe to our current church, but not for any other reason as we budget it and it’s not out of our reach!

Part Five.

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