Kicked Out

I had the strangest dream-memory last night. The dream was very clear flashbacks of my time in the United Pentecostal Church in the late 90s, before Junction City. Oddly I could remember people’s faces and actions so very clearly. Most of the time I forget faces over time.

I realized during the dream-memory that all of this happened nearly 15 years ago. The children I remember are now grown. One is probably married and another probably engaged.

The dream-memory mainly revolved around the kids. I’ve never been much of a kid person. I prayed as a pre-teen that I would never be able to have kids. I really thought babies hated me. The first babies/toddlers I was ever around much that seemed to like me were the pastor’s kids at this church.

They had a boy and a girl. The boy was around 3-4 when I started attending, and the girl was no more than 18 months, I’d guess, and probably quite a bit younger. With the pastor up preaching and the wife with a nursing baby, there were many times when I would take care of the little boy during church. I’d take little things with me in my purse to entertain him, and later the little girl, too. I’d stay after church and entertain them while their parents counseled sometimes, too.

They were cute kids. It was hard on me when the pastor kicked me out. On top of all the regular reasons, it was hard because I knew my disappearance would hurt them. I’ve never been that close to any other kids, even my niece and nephew, because I saw them so often and spent so much time with them.

In the dream-memory one of the other things I remembered was how the pastor’s wife wanted the little boy to have a suit, but they couldn’t afford one. One of the other members and I found a suit at a yard sale that would fit him. I was hesitant because the pants didn’t have a zipper, just an elastic. But there was a tie and a vest and it was cute. I figured he could wear those with regular pants and look dressed up. We bought the outfit and took it to her. I told her that I knew the pants probably wouldn’t work but she insisted. The boy came to church the next Sunday in the outfit, embarrassed half to death about his pants with the baby elastic in them, and me embarrassed for him. I never saw him wear the vest or tie (or the outfit) again.

I also remembered clearly, once again, the night the pastor and his wife called me into the kitchen area after church where the pastor accused me of lusting after him and told me if I didn’t change, he’d throw me out. That they were leaving to evangelize and when they returned I’d better have changed or I’d be gone. It wasn’t his words I remembered, but that when he stopped accusing me and told me that he’d now pray, the pastor’s wife linked the tips of her fingers with mine. It was like she was shaking as hard as I was, like she was holding on. I always wondered about that. I wondered why she didn’t get in trouble. I wondered why she did it to start with.

For years I blamed myself for getting kicked out. I thought that because he was a ‘man of God’ he must have known something about me that I didn’t know. I fought leaving because he ‘prophesied’ that I would leave and cut my hair and put on pants. He ‘prophesied’ that it would happen immediately, but I still fought leaving just to prove him wrong. And then I felt guilty for doing that, for wanting to make a ‘man of God’ a false prophet. I felt when he kicked me out that I would be sinning to ‘backslide‘ and sinning, as well, not to, because it would be proving him a liar.

I know, that’s messed up. But it’s how I felt at the time.

I just needed to remember, and then to write it down.

Years later, looking back, I realize that she was abused. I remember specific things he’d do, things she said had happened even from the day after their wedding, that should have clued me in that he was abusive. I remember seeing him abuse his kids, especially his daughter. Of slapping her legs again and again while she screamed and he yelled he was going to break ‘that woman spirit’ in her. A child still in diapers. I remember his refusal to stop long enough to let his little boy use the bathroom on road trips, the wife’s admission that she’d made her son pee into diapers because he had to go so bad and her husband wouldn’t stop, the child’s humiliation. I know the little boy wet his bed, probably at least until I left when he was 7-8. And I know there were reasons. I think one of the hardest things about leaving there was leaving those kids, knowing they were being abused but staying silent, afraid to say anything because they might be taken out of that home and ‘the Truth.’ And because we weren’t supposed to say anything. He was the ‘man of God.’

I struggled after leaving, have struggled for years, with prayer. God didn’t answer my prayers- my pleas- that he’d make a way that I could stay. My dream of finally being in the inner circle was shattered, and so was my confidence in prayer and in God in general, in much of what I was taught. I knew in my heart that I’d done pretty much everything I was supposed to, that I sacrificed, that I gave, that I obeyed unquestioningly even to the point of accepting a false accusation that I was lusting after that man. My hope that I would marry, my hope of having kids, recently awakened, all were gone. I doubted whether I could even eat with other believers without making them sin. There was no way I could be anything in any church. Not in my mind, not at that time. And not for a very long time after that.

I woke up this morning whispering a prayer for those kids. The son, now a man, the young girl, now around 18 or 19 probably, and quite possibly soon to be married off to who-knows-what in exchange for a good place for the dad or the brother to preach, and the youngest, born after I left.

Emotional Abuse in the Church

A book caught my eye yesterday. Though most of it doesn’t pertain, one chapter, “Patterns of Abuse,” was very applicable to my experiences and some other experiences I’ve read. The book is The Emotionally Abusive Relationship by Beverly Engel.

In the book, Engel lists several types of emotional abuse, and gives an example of each. Some excerpts:

DOMINATION… Domineering behavior includes ordering a [person] around; monitoring time and activities; restricting resources (finances, telephone); restricting social activities…

The list continues from there.

VERBAL ASSAULTS… Verbal assault includes berating, belittling, criticizing, humiliating, name-calling, screaming, threatening, excessive blaming, shaming, using sarcasm in a cutting way, or expressing disgust toward the person….

ABUSIVE EXPECTATIONS… A [person] with abusive expectations can never be pleased because there is always something more you could have done.

EMOTIONAL BLACKMAIL… one of the most powerful forms of manipulation. It occurs when one [person] either consciously or unconsciously coerces the other into doing what he wants by playing on [the other person’s] fear, guilt, or compassion…these are often quite subtle.

Several spousal examples are mentioned. I’m rearranging them slightly for church: a pastor may jokingly suggest that a saint better start acting like he enjoys service more if he doesn’t want to get left out of activities. Someone may say it would be difficult to find a new church where the pastor is willing to accept a “move-in.” Or someone may remind a member of how dangerous it is out there in the world, with so much sin and all.

The following are warning signs that you are being emotionally blackmailed:
Your [church/pastor] asks you to:
choose between something you want to do and them/him.
make you feel like you are selfish or a bad person if you do something [they don’t] want you to do.
give up something or someone as a way of proving your love for [him/them].
threatens [to kick you out, stand you up, sit you out of church] if you don’t change.

Other things the book mentions are drastic mood swings, sudden emotional outbursts for no apparent reason, inconsistent responses, constant or continual conflict with others, a need for arguments (including deliberately starting arguments or creating chaos), using humiliation, criticism, gossiping or lying about someone in order to discredit them, or telling the person that their concerns are “all in their heads” or simply their imagination.

Above all that, a person who:
secretly hopes bad things will happen to the other person
gets satisfaction from knowing something bad happened to the other person
attempts to MAKE bad things happen to the other person
or causes the other person to doubt themselves or question their perceptions
could be malevolently abusive or lethally abusive. People in these situations either need to get counseling or leave the situation, according to the book.

If parallels are drawn from this to spiritual abuse, then telling a person they can’t come if they don’t conform, blaming, standing them up in front of the church, accusing them of things publicly or alluding to things that will start gossip- especially over the pulpit, blaming them for things they didn’t do, labeling, saying they’ll go to hell, have a bad accident, lose their job or whatever if they leave, logging attendance, Bible reading, and prayer time and then using it against people, telling people they must be at every service, and so forth could all be forms of emotional abuse, as well as spiritual abuse.

Sometimes I run across something like this. Memories flash through my mind, I take a deep breath, and just have to say “Wow.”

Communion

I’ll miss having watchnight service tonight… the old fashioned kind with foot washing and communion and worship, praying the old year out and the new year in. Its been around five years since I was in an old fashioned watchnight service. Those held a lot of meaning for me.

Communion, renewing commitments to God, remembering His commitment to us… foot washing, starting the new year out clean and fresh, remembering we’re called to serve… prayer and worship, ending one year and bringing the new one in with praise and prayer. We had some good services through the years. But the last few have felt pushed and contrived.

Communion at the Cross from Christian Challenge on Vimeo.

There hasn’t been foot washing or communion for several years at my former church- ever. My former pastor believes that if you take communion “unworthily,” or with sin in your life or not right with God that you will die or backslide. Not the worst I’ve heard… one pastor actually taught that if there were two people in conflict in the church, serve communion and the one that is wrong will soon leave! I guess, since he believes communion can kill people, he’s decided he doesn’t want to be responsible for serving it. I don’t know. But that understanding of communion is far from Jesus.’

There are several things horribly wrong with using communion as a judgment or condemnation. Mainly, communion is done in memory of Jesus’ sacrifice, mercy, and forgiveness. Nothing about a condemning or judgmental ‘communion’ points to these. God wants to draw us closer to him, not push us away. Communion should bind us together in love and forgiveness and unity, not bring us to look at each other questioningly. No one who gets sick within the weeks and months after communion is taken should be afraid that they did something “wrong” by taking communion. Jesus said “Do this in remembrance of me.” And that is what we should do. Remember Him.

The Still Small Voice

So you’ve faced a storm lately? Faced deafening winds, the heat of fiery trials, earthquakes that seem to shake everything right out from under you? Listen closely. Maybe there have been a lot of earthquakes and fires and wind in your life. A lot of huge, noisy, tumultuous, chaotic occurrences. Disasters, if you will. But they weren’t God, no matter how many people would like to say they were. Listen closely, now that they’ve passed. Sometimes what sounds like silence after all that deafening noise is actually the whisper of God. (1 Kings 19:12-13)

Elijah knew that none of those things that came before God was God. He was on a mountain in an earthquake. Did he cry out? Did he wonder if what he was experiencing would crush him? I would have. But he realized, somehow, for all his fear and upset, in spite of the drought and the wickedness and a king and queen who killed prophets like him, that the fires and earthquakes and winds weren’t God. They came before, proclaiming the power and glory of God, but they themselves were not God. God came as a quiet whisper. Gentle. In the hush after the deafening noise. I wonder if Elijah realized the parallel to his life? That God wasn’t in the craziness of the world around him, in the actions of Ahab or the wickedness of Jezebel, the dryness of the drought or the fury of the rain, but was there, nonetheless? I wonder if he realized though that God would proclaim His glory even in those stormy situations, that His great power would be known even in those things that shook Elijah’s world? But that it would be through those quiet whispers, almost missed after the tumult, where he found God’s strength?

It’s easy, in life, to look at what we consider our most desperate and darkest situations and think that God isn’t there, or that there’s no way God could get glory from those. But we don’t stand where God stands, on the edge of eternity. We don’t know the plans He has or the beauty He foresees for each of our lives. But He does. The God who spoke to an earth without form and void and made something very good out of it is still speaking to bleak situations today. He is still creating, and recreating, our lives. Listen, and maybe you can hear His whisper, too.

Merry Christmas

Christmas. One of my favorite times of year. Lights, presents, food, family, friends, music, food, presents… j/k..

We always had a very Christ-centered Christmas growing up. Yes, Santa came, and we put cookies and milk out for him sometimes (though I think Mrs. Claus visited our house more than Santa did- equal opportunity and all, you know? 😉 )

My favorite memories include listening to old 8-tracks of Bing Crosby while just sitting together looking at the lights on the tree, driving around looking at lights, making Christmas cookies, gifts and ornaments, and putting up the nativity. We had a very simple nativity that fascinated me. Joseph’s staff was metal, and could come out of his hand, and Baby Jesus could come out of the manger and be carried around, as long as Mom didn’t catch you with him!

When I started going to a Pentecostal church, that changed. Suddenly, there were no lights, no trees, no cookies, and, eventually, no nativities. But I secretly and guiltily continued to remember Christmas- the wonderful, miraculous time of year for kids and adults. Santa might be a bit mystical, but he was also an example of how to give generously and selflessly. Trees and nativities weren’t idols, but reminders of the holiday, decorations for the house, and part of a family tradition. Lights and music and gifts were ways of sharing beauty and joy with others. What was wrong with Christmas? Where was the joy I’d known growing up?

This year, my lights were up, gifts were thoughtfully selected and wrapped, and music played once more. No, there was no tree. And there just wasn’t time to locate and set up the nativity. But for the first time in years, I am celebrating Christmas. Not the pagan holiday some portray, but the miracle of Jesus’ birth, the beauty of my life in him, and the joy of giving from the heart.

On earth, peace and goodwill toward men.

Merry Christmas!

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