Author: Mary | Page 2 | Spiritual Abuse Blogs

Baptism and Re-Baptism Part 1

This is probably going to end up being an ongoing debate between me, myself and I.

For a long time after I left my former church, I believed that baptism in Jesus’ name was right. Then I thought it was better. Then a Oneness Pentecostal argued with me about baptism in Jesus’ name, thinking I was Trinity. And I realized how wrong some of their arguments were. Reading back through some of my blogs tonight, I realized just how much my thinking had shifted even since then- in a good way.

Now, I’m considering getting re-baptized, and think I may keep notes of some of what I’m studying and some of what I’ve learned here.

OK, for starters, I’ve considered re-baptism for a number of reasons since leaving, some good and some not so good. One of the first reasons I considered was making a clean break from the Oneness movement. That was not a very good reason for me. For starters, baptism isn’t meant to be used as a way to take a stand against a group of believers. Also, a “clean break” is really not possible when you still live among the group you’re breaking from. They wouldn’t even know I’d gotten re-baptized–any “break” would only be in my own mind.

Separating myself from them eventually came in the form of wearing pants and short sleeves even when they might see me. Curiously, most of them have been more accepting of me since I changed the way I dressed. Even just tonight, riding my bike, one drove by, smiled, waved and called my name. No disgust–he actually looked happy for me! (Which makes me wonder how many of them truly believe what they’re living… but that’s another blog for another time.)

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Again, I considered it simply because there’s so much division caused as a result of the debate (of baptism in the name of Jesus). Yet getting re-baptized won’t stop the debate, and I’ve already shown whose side I’m on by where I attend church, how I live my life, and so forth. Yet it might be done for unity’s sake. That one I need to think about more.

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Re-baptism can definitely be a public testimony and witness. But of what? If my testimony is “I’m not one of THEM,” indicating another group of believers, that’s not a good enough reason for me, personally. However, if my testimony is an answer of a good conscience toward God, a way to say, “yes, I truly believe,” then it might be right. Motive is the key in that case.

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I also have to consider historically and Biblically if re-baptism is acceptable or right. I don’t find anything in the Bible that says people were re-baptized, except in the case of the disciples of John in Acts 19. My personal feeling is that these disciples, not “having heard whether there be any Holy Ghost” probably were not familiar with Jesus’ death, burial and resurrection. They had been baptized to repentance but not baptized into the body of Christ, or as believers in Jesus. When they were re-baptized, it was to signify their belief in Jesus, whereas before it had not.

Historically, from what I can tell, believers were baptized once, except in the case of those who, like Anabaptists, were christened as children and re-baptized as adults due to a change in beliefs.

I find nothing for or against re-baptism either historically or Biblically. Research in these areas leaves me with no answers, and if anything possibly a few more questions. How do I fit into either of the groups in the paragraphs above, if I do? My beliefs have changed drastically even over the last few months. My understanding of Jesus and His sacrifice has expanded. But is that, in my case- since I believed in Jesus when I was first baptized- something I should be re-baptized to signify? I don’t think so, at least for me. Each person is different, though. If I’d ONLY been baptized once, in Jesus name, I think I’d feel much differently about my answer.

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By the same reasoning, I can conclude that it doesn’t matter if we believe baptism is salvational or not–the main thing is that we are believe and are baptized, not exactly what we believe about baptism.

These being the case, my baptism is as acceptable as anyone else’s. Also, to be re-baptized to join A church rather than THE body of Christ is a little beyond my means right now. That concept seems more than a little small-minded or limited in concept to me. And maybe even a bit divisive. It’s also slightly stuck-up, for lack of a better description. How could a church say, “Yes, you are a Christian, a Heaven-bound member of the body of Christ, but you would have to be re-baptized to be part of this local church?” (This church hasn’t said I’d HAVE to, but still…)

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Regarding baptism as a means of becoming part of the body of Christ rather than a local church, though I didn’t understand it at the time, when I was baptized in Jesus’ name I was also (unwittingly) baptized into a set group of believers. And THAT group later said I wasn’t even a Christian until I’d been baptized their way. So the above is an almost laughable concern in some ways.

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Apparently, no one is asking me this time to deny my first baptism. No one is driving me to join their church or telling me that there’s only one right way to be baptized. It would bother me if I were told that I had to deny my whole Christian walk up til this point, which is what happened after I was baptized in Jesus’ name. No, no one said that verbally, but it was indicated in many smaller ways. As far as the United Pentecostal Church was concerned, I started living for God after I got re-baptized in Jesus’ name and spoke in tongues. And that was NOT the case. I had to deny or ignore some wonderful things God had done earlier in my life to accept that. It wasn’t until I left the UPC that I finally understood how conflicted that had made me.

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I also consider what I’ve been taught through the years: that baptism was necessary for salvation, that getting re-baptized was completely wrong for any reason (due to a severe twisting of Heb 6:4-6), and, finally, that if I’d been baptized in Jesus name and then was re-baptized using the traditional Trinitarian formula I’d be hell-bound. I’ve wondered if I’d make myself sick or face residuals either before or after getting re-baptized because of these harsh teachings, and I’ve wondered if there were any truth in them. (I don’t think there is, but…) Would I make a public commitment and then not be able to follow through, end up explaining that I’d been taught these things and that they were giving me nightmares? Or are those things far enough behind me that getting re-baptized could be the joyous commitment that it’s supposed to be?

In other words, I think I believe a certain way, I say I believe a certain thing, but if faced with acting on the beliefs I claim, would I?

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I’m also more than a little nervous about making a public commitment of any sort to church again. Even a good church that I really enjoy. Will I stick with it? Will I want to be there in a year? In three? Will they change after I join and become like others I’ve experienced?

To be continued….

This is my body, broken for you

This is my body, broken for you

I’ve heard these words many times through the years, associated with communion and the cross… and have always considered them associated with forgiveness as a result. It is, after all, Christ’s sacrifice on the cross that offers forgiveness to us all. But is this what the broken body, the broken bread, represents?

The blood of Jesus cleanses us from sin. It was the blood of the Passover lamb spread on the doorposts that showed the angel which homes to pass over, or spare from death. The lamb was slain and eaten, but it was the blood that made the difference in Passover. It’s the blood that signifies covenant. What is the significance of the broken body?

I’m sure there are several good and varying answers, but the one that struck me today is fellowship. Breaking bread in that time was a sign of fellowship offered and accepted. It was a symbol of shared social class- a slave and master wouldn’t normally break bread together, but one would serve the other, or at least I would assume. It also meant relationship. So, by offering the bread for them to share, Jesus called them into fellowship with each other, but more, back into relationship with himself, not as they had been, walking together on earth, but more deeply.

“By his stripes we are healed.” Healed how, of what? There were healings before Christ’s sacrifice. Perhaps the healing was that which God first saw, the healing of broken fellowship with him. The healing of relationship, first broken in Eden. And if so, perhaps the cross is about much more than forgiveness. It’s about fellowship with God, broken and restored. At least in American Evangelical tradition, forgiveness is about us. But restored relationship is about Him.

Christmas 2011

This is re-posted from 2011.

Today has been a day full of shocks and a pleasant surprises… from the deacon who gave me a nice Christmas gift for helping him greet on Sunday mornings, to the woman who asked if I’d like to take her place as church clerk (still praying about that one, but it was a compliment to be asked), to getting to ride in the front with the driver of a horse and wagon ride on my SECOND (and free) trip of the night. And above all that, a new take on something in Jeremiah. Hopefully I can write about that another time. Notes are in the car and it’s too cold to run out and get them.

Jeremiah 29:11 is a promise given after God warned them to straighten up for 23 years (Jer 25)… and they didn’t do it. That promise came after they were sent into exile. So was exile a punishment, or what they determinedly went for even after being warned? If a child is told not to put his hand on the stove and does anyway and is burned, was the damage/hurt/pain the result of the parent’s punishment or the child’s willfulness?

I was taught that God was holy. And He is. I was told that He was just. He’s that as well. But to base a knowledge of God on those two attributes is to overlook several things. Yes, God is holy and just. But He is also merciful, gracious, and loving. He isn’t just holy, just, merciful, gracious and loving, though. He IS love. Not everything that happens is a result of God being angry at us or punishing us. Many times, He warns us to protect us. Not from His wrath if we disobey, but from ourselves, and from the pain we will face as we learn why He said no to begin with (like a child touching a hot stove).

When we disobey, though His holiness and justice demand punishment, but very often His love outweighs justice, and He promises- and plans- to bless in spite of our willfulness. That’s grace. That’s mercy. That’s my God.

Stumbling block: a little about what happened to me

Some years ago, I was thrown out of a church because the pastor falsely accused me of things and wouldn’t allow me to even say I hadn’t done what he accused me of. He told me that if he said I did it, he was a Man of God, and God had obviously talked to him about me and revealed the wickedness in my heart. He also preached that I would walk out of church the night he kicked me out and immediately go and cut my hair and wear pants and makeup. I felt like I was betraying him by NOT doing those things, proving that he was a false prophet. I hadn’t done anything wrong, and I believed THE Truth, so I didn’t cut my hair or put on pants. I simply found another Oneness church and tried to act like nothing had happened.

The new pastor told me to just forget about what had happened and move on. But I couldn’t. What happened had created a lot of questions and doubts in my mind, things that I needed to work through and discuss. I needed time to heal. They wanted to act like there was nothing to heal, and that hurt worse.

I always felt condemned for not doing crazy things in church. After being kicked out, something disconnected. I went to church, and would shake “under the power of God.” I’d never done that before. People would tell me how close I must be to God. I didn’t feel close to God. I’d been kicked out of a church, but they didn’t know that, so I felt like a hypocrite. I also knew the shaking wasn’t God, it was me wrestling hard to reconcile what I believed was The Truth with what I had seen, heard, and experienced that blared that it wasn’t. There was such a deep grief and so much condemnation associated with praying, fasting, and studying the Bible… and especially with worship. The new church was very pushy about how much I should worship and exactly how we should and shouldn’t worship. That didn’t help me at all, because so much of what he told us we needed to do seemed unnatural or just plain weird or wrong to me.

It took me years to untangle what had happened in the church I was kicked out of. I had been happy in a way, and spoke in tongues often and danced a lot. When I was kicked out, even though I went to a different Oneness Pentecostal church (where the pastor assured me I was fine), things just weren’t the same. I doubted pretty much everything I was feeling, because the pastor who kicked me out said I was backslid and terribly wrong. If that were true (and of course it must be- he was a Holy Ghost filled preacher) then what I had felt, and the speaking in tongues and the worship I was doing must be all wrong, too. How could sweet and bitter water come from the same source, after all? I almost ‘got past that’ but then with all the show and people really hurting people in the altar of the new church, I started re-looking some things.

At the same time, I went through a time when every time I tried to pray, I’d pretty much immediately fall into heart wrenching grief and start sobbing and speaking in tongues. I knew that wasn’t right. There is joy in the Holy Ghost, and what was happening couldn’t have been considered intercession. I’d focus on God and say “I love you” or think of a recent service or have a happy thought that I’d be able to stay in that church for the rest of my life… and suddenly start bawling, when I hadn’t been sad before that word of prayer or that thought of thankfulness! A week of that would have been one thing, but that went on for a month or more. And I couldn’t seem to pray at all at church. By the end of that time, I knew something was terribly wrong, but I didn’t know what (or wouldn’t admit it) for a few more years.

For the last few years, there have been many false accusations and labels placed on people in my former church. There was a lot of spying and gossip.

The pastor bragged about the spying from the platform, and encouraged people to tell him if they even thought something MIGHT be wrong with someone else. He said if they didn’t tell him, they’d have blood on their hands. So people, from the oldest to elementary school kids, would go in alone or in groups to say they thought they saw someone do this or that. The person they told on would then be called in and chewed out. They were not asked if they did it, or if they denied it they’d be told they were lying. There was no escaping the hurtful words.

I’ve sat in my former pastor’s office sobbing uncontrollably many times as he, my ‘shepherd,’ my ‘man of God,’ my ‘pastor’ would tell me that I didn’t deserve anything but hell, that I was worthless, that I could leave like the other “garbage” (‘backsliders’ were called “garbage” and the churches they went to were called “trash cans”).

In all of this, even when I was sobbing, even when I tried to say something to defend myself, he would continue to pound on me with his words. Where is the mercy or the compassion in that?

If any pastors or leaders read this, please consider. I didn’t leave a Oneness church because I didn’t believe the doctrine. I left because the church stopped believing in me. I got to a point where if I’d stayed I would have stopped believing in God, because the God they preached and showed through their own lives was an angry, hateful, distorted god, not a God of love and mercy.

Mt 18:1 At the same time came the disciples unto Jesus, saying, Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven? 2And Jesus called a little child unto him… 6But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea. 7Woe unto the world because of offences! for it must needs be that offences come; but woe to that man by whom the offence cometh!

1 Jn 4:7 Beloved, let us love one another: for love is of God; and every one that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God. 8He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love.

I’m not bitter. But some things need to be heard. For too long in churches like the one I left, members didn’t have a voice. It’s time someone listened.

Church Gimmicks

I had a dream this morning that I was attending church on Easter. It isn’t my church or one I’ve ever been in, but in the dream I’d been there before, because I knew the music was going to be different.

Before church I heard people talking about how they had come because the candy was better at this church. As the music started, people started crying and laying down on the floor. I wasn’t scared, but I was disgusted. The music was awful. The second song was supposed to be special. It was heavy rock. I moved so that I wasn’t in front of the speakers. The third song started, and was announced to also have a special instrument involved… a chain saw. At the same time, people were coming to the front, crying and praying and having hands laid on them, while altar workers stood with clickers, counting the number of people ‘saved’ or who spoke in tongues, I’m not sure which. One was from my first church, and the altar worker and a friend of hers were fighting over whether she should be counted.

The friend walked past me as she went back to her seat. She recognized me and saw my pants (not allowed in her religion). She told me she’d just had a sobbing moment, because she wouldn’t be able to spend Christmas with me because I was obviously lost, wearing pants. We hadn’t had plans; we hadn’t spoken for ten years!

And then I noticed what the congregation was singing: Your love like a river flows through me.

Gimmicks. Candy, special songs, special instruments, encouraging people to worship more ahead of time, counting responses… all are gimmicks. They can be used, within reason, to encourage people to come to a church (or to any other sales event) but they aren’t about God. They’re marketing techniques. But what disturbed me most was not the gimmicks in the dream (not even the chain saw music) or the rejection of my former friend, but the fact that in the middle of all the gimmicks, the fight, and the rejection, the song being sung repeated the words “Your love like a river flows through me.” That’s what haunted me as I woke up. The hypocrisy.