Expulsion II

In writing something else I remembered realizing that only one person in the New Testament was listed as being thrown out of church–a man who “had his father’s wife” in Corinth.

It was widely known that the man in Corinth was sleeping with his mom or stepmom. But how does anyone dare disfellowship someone for allegedly thinking something? Can a thought be proven? No. Not unless it’s acted on. I dare say that many people have had thoughts they wish they hadn’t had. God doesn’t banish us based on what we are tempted to do, but only what we act on. Sure, a man that looks on a woman to lust after her has committed adultery with her already in his heart. Jesus didn’t say that such a man should be stoned for adultery, nor did he say the woman should be stoned for whatever made him lust. Jesus was simply warning caution about not letting thoughts run wild, because if we think on certain things long enough, we might act on them, and it’s when we act on them that we sin. (Jas 1:13-15)

Expulsion

Christmas Memories

I know not all of us got to celebrate Christmas much in our former churches, but I was recently reminded of how we celebrated growing up… and of some of the sneaky things I did to celebrate even with the multitude of Christmas prohibitions in my former church.

Christmas is a very special time of year for me now… I left my former church just a couple weeks before Christmas two years ago and Christmas activities were the very first that I shared with Trinitarians that year. In participating with them, I regained more than a little hope.

Anyhow, some of my favorite memories:
We’d asked for ten speed bikes one year growing up, but my parents really didn’t have the money for them. (I don’t think I’ve ever had a brand new bike, to this day. But at that point, we’d had hand-me-downs, and the bike I was riding at the time had been Mom’s when she was my age.) Mom and Dad locked us out of the basement that year, and we tried and tried to sneak a peak at and eavesdrop on what might be happening there. Christmas morning, we got the bikes we wanted. Mom and Dad had found some bikes being thrown away, took them home, and spent days cleaning and repainting them and rebuilding the pieces into “new” shiny bikes for us. That was the best present I ever got, I think, but it wasn’t the bike that meant so much, it was the excitement and curiosity leading up to them, and the fact that they were built with so much love.

In Pentecost, we were advised strongly against Christmas trees. After I moved to a new church, we were told that nativities could be idols and that trees were absolutely pagan and had some very obscene roots. Christmas music, for the most part, was also “worldly”. The only Christmas song generally sung at church was the chorus of “Joy to the World.” Yet I nearly always snuck lights up around the house, set out Christmas cards, lit Christmas-y smelling candles and sometimes brought in some evergreens of some sort… just not a “Christmas tree” per se. (It’s only a tree if it’s upright with ornaments on it, right?) And later, I started decorating with snowmen, because less had been said against them and I could leave them out through February. As long as I didn’t have visitors in the snowmen rooms, at least.

Two years ago right before Christmas I left my former church. That year and every year now, December is filled with seasonal activities… live nativities, “Journey through Bethlehem.” Christmas songs at every church I visited, Christmas trees, wreaths, lights, parades, Christmas music and Christmas movies… Christmas means a whole lot to me, and the ancient words, “For unto us is born this day… a Savior” have taken on new beauty.

This year, again, I’ll celebrate. Celebrate the birth of our Savior 2000 years ago, and celebrate His rebirth in my life two years ago, as well. It’s a most wonderful time of the year!

Breaking Away

About a month ago I trimmed my hair, about 1/8″ off, a few split ends, one strand at a time. But still against what I had been taught. About a week ago I wore my hair in a braid, down, for the first time in public in years. In a church that allows no physical contact between unmarried men and women, I have begun to feel more comfortable with a nonsexual embrace or tap on the shoulder, and even went out to eat with a virtual stranger in a public restaurant this morning with few qualms, although he apparently recognized that I was a bit tense.

There is nothing wrong with these things. The hair trimming may have been done in the wrong spirit (I wanted to break with the traditional teaching, and that was a lot less obvious than pants) but still, there was nothing wrong with it in and of itself. I don’t think that God would send me to hell for what I did, anymore than I can imagine him not loving me simply because I might not go to that church.

Why is God so limited in so many people’s lives? God is infinite, omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent… and yet it’s as though we expect him to fit in a tiny jewelry box and sit in our pocket. A genie in a lamp rather than a loving Father.

When my chaplain friend prayed with me, I saw through that prayer a love, faith, and trust that was almost completely foreign to me, and I realized I had been robbed- robbed of my identity in Christ. When a statement was made on a support group board about being a “precious child of God” the thought was reinforced. Knowing this, am I breaking away from something or bridging to something better?

I’ve been told for so long that listening to ideas that are not Apostolic like “we” are is to let the ideas of the devil in. But the devil wouldn’t remind me of the grace and mercy of a loving Father, wouldn’t remind me that I’m a child of God. The devil wants us condemned… and condemnation is exactly what I now feel free of. I don’t have to look over my shoulder or consider what others might think about every word I say, how they might twist it or who they might repeat (or misrepeat) it to. I still wonder how I ever thought that I was right in living for people that way. I don’t want to live for people, I want to live for God. That, in the end, is really the only way to really live.

Tomorrow I go to chapel. A safe place, for me. Tomorrow night I go to a living nativity. For the first time in years, I am really getting the opportunity to celebrate the birth of the One that saved me. How odd it is that I was not allowed to really celebrate His birth. Shouldn’t Christians, of all people, be most apt to celebrate His birth, His death, and His resurrection? What better way to celebrate our life in Him?

Joy to the World!!!

Book Giveaway #10 – In Jesus’ Name: The History and Beliefs of Oneness Pentecostals

We have given away books for years as part of the spiritualabuse.org ministry and this will be our tenth one via this new blog area. This is your chance to receiveĀ a new copy of In Jesus’ Name: The History and Beliefs of Oneness Pentecostals by David A. Reed. (Don’t let the current prices on Amazon startle you- a new copy sells for around $35, not almost $500.) The link will take you to Amazon where you may read more information about it.

This is only open to those with a USA mailing address. (Unfortunately, it is cost prohibitive to mail books outside of the USA. Canadians with a USA mailing address are welcome to enter.) This one is a little different as it is a drawing and not a first come, first served giveaway. To enter, just leave a comment on this post to show you wish to be included. The drawing will close on December 17 at noon (eastern time), after which I will draw one winner. You will then need to email me your mailing address. There is absolutely no cost to enter.

Don’t be alarmed if your comment does not immediately show as comments require approval when you are commenting for the first time.

Watch for a future multi-book giveaway that will be on a first come, first served basis and not a drawing.

Leaving

A year ago yesterday I turned in my formal resignation to my former church. It’s been an interesting and wonderful year, full of growth, laughter, and a few tears, but well worth it.

I didn’t want to leave my former church. Although there were a lot of bad things that happened, there were also people who’d been kind to me and who I didn’t want to hurt… People who would be hurt by my leaving, no matter how the leaving was done. I was also scared. I believed that the basic doctrine taught was THE truth, but the situation at that church had become untenable. If I left, I would face the strong possibility that no other Oneness church would accept me, yet if I stayed, I knew that there was a strong possibility that I would be pressured to lie. The fallout from speaking the truth would be heavy, yet I had to speak. I’d been named in a lawsuit by a member who’d told me something entirely different than what he told in court.

Before the court case, I thought that I would simply, gracefully, disappear. I’d get a job and move, get married into another church, or simply move home to take care of my aging parents. Then I could go to a more liberal church and get away from what I considered the hurtful side of Pentecost–I thought that if I went to another church or into another part of the movement I’d be fine. I couldn’t grasp that problems might exist in other parts of Pentecost- I thought they were limited to my church. When the court papers were served, I knew I had to get out before responding to the papers. I kept some pending commitments, turned in my resignation, and promptly submitted my documentation to the court.

I wasn’t sure what would happen when the pastor got the resignation… as it turned out he never even acknowledged it, at least not to me. A few members continued to contact me for a few weeks. Finally, I told one that I’d resigned. They were shocked, hurt, and probably scared for themselves at that point. I explained that I’d deliberately refrained from telling them to ensure the pastor had received notice first, in order to protect them. Though I still wish I could have told a handful of people goodbye personally, that would have hurt them more. It surprised me and hurt me though, to realize that once they knew about my resignation, most never attempted to bring me back. It was as though either I or the church had suddenly disappeared from the city!

When I joined the support group board, I didn’t think I’d be leaving Pentecost forever. I assumed that I would leave for a short while, or leave the very strict group I was in, but I never thought I would leave completely. I was terrified of registering on the forum, but desperately needed some sort of interaction and a place to put my thoughts and work through everything that was happening.

Grace, faith, love… a different kind of prayer, faith filled and simple… the prayer drew me. Before leaving I’d talked to a chaplain about leaving. He was extremely kind. He listened rather than telling me what to do, and he listened completely and compassionately. I wasn’t used to that. After we visited, he asked if it would be alright to pray with me. The kind of prayer he prayed still brings tears to my eyes.

Still, it was only a few months later, after visiting another Oneness church a few times, that I knew I would probably never go back. The services seemed shallow and then I discovered there were connections between a member and members at my former church that would have led to more gossip. I was tired of the gossip and the struggle to prove myself. I’d also begun to realize that there were good churches outside the Oneness movement… and that I needed to learn some of the things they taught.

Once I realized and admitted to myself that I wouldn’t be going back to a Pentecostal church, I could move ahead. There were a lot of questions to answer, a lot of exploring to do. What did I believe? What didn’t I believe? What did I just do because I’d been told to, and what did I believe was actually in the Bible? What did the Bible teach about topics like grace that my former church had always avoided?

It’s been an interesting journey. It doesn’t seem like a year has gone by, yet if someone had asked me last December if I could have come to where I am today in such a short time, I would have been stunned.

I still struggle with some things. It’s hard to read my Bible (because of sermons I’m reminded of), but it’s becoming easier to pray. And not just to mumble a half thought prayer as I did in Pentecost or to push for a certain feeling or experience, but to truly talk to God about things, accepting that He’s there and He hears. I still respond strongly to some things, too. But I’m not afraid anymore. I don’t worry as much about what others think or what they might say. If something goes wrong, I don’t immediately think I must have sinned and God’s punishing me. And I don’t feel the pressure to pretend to be something I’m not, and never have been. It’s nice to be free to be real, to be myself. It’s nice to do things just for the enjoyment of doing them, without examining every minute to see if it could be judged wrong in some way.

Someone stopped me the other day and asked what was different about me. It isn’t the first time I’ve been asked. It’s not a change of dress or hairstyle. Apparently even to others I seem happier, more relaxed… something. And I am. Yesterday, I think the woman had decided I had a new guy in my life. No, I don’t. But I am finally really getting to know Him.

Merry Christmas, all.

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