Category: anger | Page 2 | Spiritual Abuse Blogs

Three Steps Part 3: The First Step

Original post here. This is continued from Three Steps Part 2: That Old Time Liberal Religion. This happened about 1974.

And he walks with me and he talks with me
And he tells me I am his own
And the joy we share as we tarry there
None other has ever known.

1974 – A few months before we had moved from Vicksburg to Birmingham, from a small ranch house to a split-level ranch house, from a traditional elementary school to an “open format” elementary school, from the big Southern Baptist church in a small town to a big Southern Baptist church in the suburbs of a city. The least turbulent transition was the church. There was a distinct change in decor — the Vicksburg church had a huge mural of Adam and Eve being expelled from the Garden of Eden behind the baptismal font, quite unusual for a Protestant church but very welcome for wandering eyes to rest on. The suburban church had varnished pine boards, with nothing for a bored child to do but resist the urge to count them, for once they were counted, what else was there to do? Fortunately there wasn’t much boredom at that time, as the services were very similar. There was an emphasis on free will and God’s love to provide an answer to all our problems, on God’s expectation that we would stand on our own feet, work together, and get things done. The ideal relationship with God was the one described in the song above, although the song itself wouldn’t be composed for almost another decade. With intellect, love, and will-power, any problem could be solved. I had just turned eight; and I believed, I believed, I believed.

But church wasn’t only the calmest place in my life, it was the most intellectually stimulating. School was deadly dull, and there was no other place around me where people were having interesting, open-ended discussions about life’s problems. In the early 70s there were a ton of problems to discuss, and many people were getting all gloomy about them. But not the church, which was a haven of optimism and reason.

When we joined a few months ago, the preacher had welcomed us individually, shook my hand, and told me that if I had any problems I could come see him. When I felt comfortable there, I took him at his word. I must have just turned eight. My sister and I had been dropped off there for some children’s function, and I found the opportunity to speak to the minister alone in the sanctuary. I told him that Mom and Dad were doing things to us that they shouldn’t, and, maybe, he could talk to them and make them stop? The preacher thought for a moment and then asked if my father sang in the choir. Yes, he did. He asked if my mother was the treasurer of the PTA. Yes, she was.

He did not ask why I had requested an intervention.

Then he kindly explained things to me. He explained that since my parents were members of the church in good standing, they couldn’t possibly be doing anything wrong, especially not to their own children. If I thought that members of the church in good standing were doing something wrong, there could only be one explanation. Somehow I had become possessed by Satan, and Satan was inside me making me believe lies about my parents that could not possibly be true. Then he prayed to Satan to leave my body and stop plaguing my thoughts with such lies, and sent me on my way.

I was dumbfounded. I may have just turned eight, but even then I knew the only thing I was possessed by was the good sense to realize how ridiculous the preacher sounded. It was without question the single stupidest thing I had ever heard in my life, either in stories or in real life. But if he took it seriously, then that could only mean — dangerous things. I remember staring at the thumbs of his clasped hands in shock, not daring to look him in the face. Then my mind started to work.

This was a modern, liberal church in the early 1970s and he’s threatening me with Satan. I don’t think half the congregation even believes in Satan! It’s not a serious topic of conversation in or out of sermons. Here people talk about using love to solve real problems, they don’t threaten people asking for help with stuff that belongs in old movies. It’s like be threatened with leeches or water torture or — or footbinding or some other bit of antique nonsense.

But if there were even a tiny minority out there who actually believed such things, then I could never, ever tell anyone about my own spiritual experiences. I had never told anyone about talking to God because I had never met anyone who would have a positive reaction to the news. The negative reactions would fall into two camps, the ones who would want me shipped off to a loony bin and the ones who would want me burned at the stake. Of the two I figured I could talk my way out of the loony bin easier than I could talk my way off a burning stake. I seriously thought the latter camp only existed in old books, but apparently I was wrong.

That hurt. I’d been looking forward to talking to someone about it someday.

Obviously I couldn’t talk to any spiritual ministers about anything else going on in my life. And I had made a mistake not waiting until I knew someone long enough for them to trust me before asking them for help. Next time I would wait longer.

That was what went through my conscious mind at the time. For over 40 years whenever I consciously remembered it, that is all I thought about, that and the image of the thumbs of his clasped hands. It was not until I finally committed to writing about it after years of dithering that I realized my subconscious had ruminated on it for a long time, and reached conclusions that I did not fully realize were connected to this memory.

In my subconscious I realized other things as well. I realized that my parents could do anything they wanted to my little sister and I and no one would rescue us. According to the preacher, they weren’t the only ones. Any “member of the church in good standing” could do anything they wanted to us and if my parents didn’t stop them no one would. That meant no one would protect me not only from my father but from any man at church who wanted to abuse me in any way. It meant that the church would attract abusers who wanted to be “members in good standing” for the cover it provided for their abuse.

But it’s church, right? There can’t be many abusers there. At the time I believed that. I didn’t have any evidence of any other abusers — other than the preacher’s disturbing response.

Time would prove me wrong. The evidence would mount. And I would have a hard time feeling safe in a church ever again.

Meanwhile I had a decision to make. I was being abused at home, and apparently the larger community in the form of the my community’s spiritual leader thought that my abuse was the right and proper way of the world. Where did that leave me? At this point there were two things I could believe. Either 1) there was something wrong with me that made people think they could get away with treating me like shit, or 2) the whole damn system was screwed. I’ll take Door #1, Monty.

I can hear the chorus now. “You just wanted to be a special snowflake!” Nothing could be further from the truth. I knew that what distinguished the scapegoat from the rest of the herd was the mark that others placed on it. If I could figure out where the scapegoat’s mark was on me, I could wash it off and vanish into the crowd. If #1 was correct, that meant I could someday escape. If #2 was correct I could never escape an entire world that saw all children as suitable playthings for monsters. I originally chose to believe #1 not out of shame, despair, or any perverse pride; but out of a desperate, desperate hope. In time that hope would fade, and despair would take it’s place. In even more time I would realize that what I had refused to believe was true. The whole damn system was screwed and no one was doing anything to fix it.

And then I would begin to get angry.

But I was eight and still in the grip of Persephone’s cruelest demon, hope.

(It would be 41 years later before my husband pointed out the most disturbing part of that conversation: the preacher did not stutter or fumble his words. To the veteran schoolteacher that meant only one thing — he’d had plenty of practice on other girls and boys.)

Three Steps Out the Church Door: Leaving the Southern Baptist Church – Introduction

Three Steps Part 1: Recollection, Remembrance, and Discovery

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Of Sheep and Shepherds, from a member’s perspective

I wrote this about two years ago. I don’t believe any man is a shepherd anymore, but this was the only way I could try to explain what was happening when I was in…

Once upon a time, there was a shepherd who had many sheep. The sheep were healthy sheep, though all had their little differences that made them rather sheepish. Most of the sheep were happy sheep, and they all enjoyed doing sheepy things, laying in the sun or eating the grass and watching the lambs play. The shepherd was happy too. He had a peaceful job, for the most part. He had time to think and enjoy the outdoors. He practiced hunting the bears and lions that occasionally came around looking for fat sheep or little stray lambs to steal, and ensured that none of the sheep wandered too far. It was nice being a shepherd. He protected them from predators, and they, by sharing their wool to make him coats, kept him warm on cold winter nights.

One morning a bear came. The shepherd got his sling and started to stand. The sheep were scared and huddled in close to him. They trusted him, and they would protect him. But then he couldn’t get to the bear, and it was getting close to a favorite lamb, and though he knew they were doing what they knew, the shepherd got angry. He began kicking and yelling at his sheep, trying to make them move. The sheep got scared and huddled even closer together, tripping the angry shepherd in his attempts to get at the bear. When he stood, he saw the bear lumbering away with his little lamb in it’s paws.

The shepherd was sad. His lamb had been lost, and his sheep were at fault. As they calmed down, he did not. He vowed this would never happen again. As the sheep came toward him through the day, he would push them away. He had his lambs to worry for. The sheep didn’t feel it much through their warm coats. But they felt the shepherd’s anger, and this made the sheep sad. Over the next days, the lambs stopped jumping as much, and the old rams stopped eating as well.

After a few days, the bear came back. The shepherd knew this bear, and immediately jumped up, kicking and yelling at the sheep to move. Most of the sheep, seeing his actions, and smelling the bear, ran to him like they had done earlier that week anyway. But one little lamb remembered the shepherd’s angry voice. It hesitated to get too close, and the bear snatched it up, and lumbered toward the forest. Again the shepherd was angry. Now two lambs were lost to one bear. The shepherd planned a bear hunt, and resolved that the bear would never eat another lamb.

It wasn’t long after this that the shepherd began to notice changes. Some of the sheep were sickly, even though there was nice green grass there, and water nearby, and they didn’t come to him like they used to do. He also started noticing more and more of the sheepish qualities about these sheep. The rams would butt heads. The lambs wandered too far. The ewes were too fat. Some would come and he would talk to them and play with their lambs, but others seemed to stay away. The shepherd distrusted these sheep, not realizing the sheep now also distrusted the angry shepherd.

One more time the bear came. The shepherd was prepared. He had made a club to carry along with his rod and staff, and as the bear came out of the forest, and the sheep started toward him, he beat them away with the club, yelling and kicking at them as he ran toward the bear. This time he met the bear head on, hitting it with a stone from his sling. His aim was true, and the bear fell with a roar. After killing the bear, the shepherd walked back to the sheep. A surprise waited him there. Several lambs lay dead. Two ewes had broken legs, and three rams were cut and bleeding. The shepherd looked around in dismay. The sheep huddled together at a distance, as though still scared. What animal had done this damage? No sheep were missing, but the injuries were horrible-and those poor lambs were dead. He dropped his club, his rod and his staff and knelt next to the littlest lamb. He called to the sheep, but they wouldn’t come near. It was then that he noticed the blood on his club and realized what had happened.

The Bible says leaders should be slow to anger. My pastor was hot tempered and quickly angered. I never knew what might set him off. It could be someone else’s problem that he was angry about, or some lie a member told about me. Sometimes I was at fault for something, but all too often the punishment far outweighed any crime. My faith and my salvation were questioned, false labels were placed on me. I was told I was like this one or that one who had left the church, and told I wanted to leave. My pastor finally told me that God didn’t need me and the church didn’t need me, and that he could care less whether I was in church or not. He said he was fighting for our salvation. But he too often fought the “sheep,” wounding and even killing the ones who trusted him. I doubt he has realized even yet that most of the damage he saw done, was done with his own words.

A little about fear, anger, jealousy and God

The Lord is my judge
When I have need of a savior
He maketh me to go through trials
He leadeth me through many tests…

No one, NO ONE, should misread the 23rd Psalm that way. How often it happens though! Sorry. Had to vent for a minute. We should never slander God by saying that, when bad things happen, God is testing or trying a person. If God made people do some of the bad things they do, in order to test or try someone else, He would be participant in their sin! And God DOES NOT SIN. Above that, He is righteous, and will not tell someone to do what He cannot- so He won’t tell someone to hate, lie, steal, cheat, slander, malign, rape, or murder someone else. The line of thinking that if something bad happens, “God won’t put on us more than we can bear” or “God is just testing you…” is totally, utterly against the word of God.

Anyway, so in reality:
The Lord is my SHEPHERD
I shall NOT WANT
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures
He leadeth me beside the still waters
He RESTORETH my soul

David was being chased by an angry, jealous king. He had done nothing wrong. He had, in fact, slain a giant and in doing so he had stopped the Philistines to a degree. He had played music to the king when he was troubled, to soothe his heart and mind. He sat at the king’s table and was his son’s best friend. But the king was angry and jealous of this young man. Then Samuel made it worse by anointing him to be king after Saul.

Saul was seething mad. David was sitting at the table with him, when Saul suddenly grabbed a javelin and threw it at him. No warning. Not exactly friendly territory, that king’s table!

Yet rather than fighting back, David ran. He left his home, his dad and brothers, and even his country. Did he discuss his problems involving the king? Sure. And there was nothing wrong with that. At what point did David draw the line in dealing with “God’s anointed” then? In deliberately physically harming him.

Later, the same thought is echoed when Saul died. David killed the man that killed Saul, again because Saul was “God’s anointed.” The man thought David would be glad. That angry, jealous, murderous old man was gone. But David mourned for Saul, and for Jonathan.

There are several odd things in the story of Saul and David. After all, David was mourning the man who sought to kill him. He wouldn’t “touch God’s anointed” even though Saul himself was trying to “touch” David, who was also anointed by God!

I wonder if that’s what made God call David the man after His own heart? That attitude of seeing what God wanted someone to be, rather than seeing their present condition and their faults? And I wonder if that’s why God gave mercy to David, a murderous and adulterous king, when he needed mercy? Because he showed mercy, he was shown mercy.

And maybe it goes beyond even that. Saul was angry. Saul wanted David dead because of the murder in his heart. David wanted Uriah dead because he was afraid. What a vast difference in attitude. Saul had a murderous, jealous, angry heart. He never sought repentance. David was afraid. God took his fear, showed it to him, and said, “Yes, I know.” David saw himself as he was, admitted his sin, and repented. God could use that kind of heart. Even with his sin, in spite of his fear, God could use a man who was humble enough to admit his failures, even though he was king.

Good Things Do Happen

One of the hardest things for some who leave an unhealthy church is to acknowledge that along with the abuse or wrong teachings, there were good things and experiences that happened at their old church.

People leave with hurts and damage ranging from mild all the way to very extreme. Some are quite angry at first and may lash out at anything to do with their church. These people need to be able to openly express their feelings, something that often is not allowed in unhealthy churches.

Usually as time goes on and they learn about spiritual abuse and what happened, you start to watch their transformation from anger into one of healing. Being able to see that there were good things, along with the bad, is a sign that the healing process is at work.

Unless a person was involved in an extreme situation, they really did have some good things happen during their involvement. And even in extreme cases, there is often something good that took place. They may have made close friends, had some good teachings, enjoyed times of fellowship, and so forth. Seeing and acknowledging these things does not set aside the fact that they were hurt and damage occurred. It is by no means placing ones seal of approval on a church/group.

If you find yourself regularly lashing out in anger toward your former church or group, especially if this has lasted many months or years, please find a safe place to work through all the issues. You may want to consider professional licensed counseling. It is one thing to disagree with doctrines and point out abuses which happened, but it is different when you are in anger mode, lashing out much of the time. It is hurting you and possibly others around you. Healing is attainable.

The spiritual abuse website offers a safe place for people to discuss, share, heal and encourage others along the way, even sometimes get free books and media that may be helpful. Don’t allow your former bad church experience to continue to have a negative effect on your life.

Anger

I am struggling with anger, and with guilt for the anger that I feel. Oh, the anger is well founded. I don’t think my anger is off base, unchristian, or unfounded. I have been lied to, lied on, falsely accused, and misrepresented. I’ve been discredited, shamed and humiliated, falsely accused by saints and then the pastor, and informed that I cannot even speak in my own defense because doing so questions his authority. I have seen backbiting, bitterness, variance, envying, strife, contention, gossip, and lying promoted in the name of religion. And I have seen true religion negated due to these promotions. Pure religion and undefiled is this… to visit the fatherless and widows… and to keep himself unspotted from the world…

My anger is as justified as Jesus’ when he drove out the money changers in the temple. No, I’m not being haughty or proud. I am not justifying bitterness, nor am I thinking more highly of myself than I ought. I am simply stating the facts. Jesus got angry, he even made a whip and drove out the money changers, yet He was without sin. To lay sin at my feet for saying the attitudes directly spoken against in the Bible should not be ignored in the church is neither reasonable nor biblical.

I have been told multiple times that I should forgive and forget things that should not be forgotten and which the offender never repented of. According to the unspoken rules of the church, if I tell the pastor he has offended me, I will be “reproved and rebuked” and told that I have a bitter, unforgiving spirit. Further, if I call and ask to go back to church, I will be dealt with harshly for leaving. I will be expected to attend four services a week and will have little or no privacy. I will not be able to use the internet for anything but work purposes. And I will only be sitting on a pew waiting to be called out for some new false report or supposed infraction anyway.

So I’m angry. Not sinfully angry, but angry in a way that has prompted change and research on my part. Anger that has made me re-look and rethink several teachings of the conservative Oneness movement. Anger that has made me realize that I’d prefer to go to a church where the women wear pants and they sing the doxology than to sit in a church where brothers and sisters distrust each other, where people are judged more than they are loved and accepted, and where there are some big names and also many no names.

I’m angry. I have a right and a need to be angry. When my anger shows through in my writing, it is not because I’m a horrible backslid reprobate. It is because there are terrible wrongs taking place under God’s name, and good people are being hurt as a result. There is no greater hypocrisy, no worse way to take God’s name in vain than to do these things “in His name” and then attempt to silence those who have been so misused.