When church betrays, pt 2

As I grew up, I became more and more hopeful that I could go somewhere else to church. Friends would invite me to their youth meetings occasionally. I begged Mom to let me go more often, or to change churches completely, but I wasn’t allowed. I started riding my bike in the evenings, straight to various churches within riding distance. I’d ride around and around their parking lots if there were cars, hoping someone would invite me in. If I was invited, I reasoned, I could call home and Mom would surely say it was OK to stay. I would have been invited, after all. But no one ever invited me.

When I started driving I said with relief “Now I’ll be able to drive to a different church!” Mom responded with clenched teeth that we were committed to going where we were, and we would keep going, as a family. And so I did all I could: I started watching Christian TV and listening to Christian music and imagining that I would fit better with the people who liked those things, imagining a place of belonging for myself. The shows and the music tended to be more Charismatic, and since I’d never been taught how to study the Bible, I swallowed all of it in starving gulps.

And so I looked forward to college, when I’d finally be able to go to a church with people my age, where people actually wanted to go to church, where maybe I’d learn something beyond the Bible stories. Since my parents insisted on a limited selection of colleges for me to seriously consider I ended up in a small town with only a Catholic, Methodist, Disciples, Baptist, and Pentecostal church. I wasn’t interested in Catholic or Methodist, the Disciples church was much like my parents’, and I didn’t know much about Baptist. I ran straight to the Pentecostal church and within a month had embraced it all wholeheartedly.

When the church betrays us, pt 7
When the church betrays us, pt 6
When the church betrays us, pt 5
When the church betrays us, pt 4
When the church betrays us, pt 3
When the church betrays us, pt 2
When the church betrays us, pt 1

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When church betrays us, pt 1

‘Jesus never fails,’ the old hymn goes. But his church definitely does. What happens when the church betrays us? How can this impact us?

I can’t speak for everyone. But here is my story.

I was raised in a nondenominational church. It was a tiny church. My sister and I were the only kids who were there every Sunday. Mom taught our Sunday School class. Many times it was just us and her. There were three other kids who came occasionally. Two were the pastor’s grandkids. They spent time during the week at the parsonage and several times stole the Sunday School materials (crayons, construction paper, and such I think) that mom had bought with her own money. We laughed at times if we left the car unlocked after church about what would happen if someone stole our Bibles. Mom would laughingly say “well, maybe they’ll read them!” But the pastor’s grandkids never stopped stealing the Sunday School supplies.

We didn’t learn much in that church. The pastor, at least to my memory, spent more time preaching against humanism than preaching about Jesus. Mom taught us basic Bible stories, but not what they might mean to us, and definitely not how to study the Bible. She only taught because no one else would. The previous teacher handed us each a scripture puzzle and told us to figure it out. It was too advanced for us, but he just kept giving it to us week after week. There had been no teaching, just that puzzle, all rectangles, a verse on one rectangle, the ‘address’ on another. My sister was probably in kindergarten or first grade. Even I, the older sister, didn’t know enough about the Bible to look the verses up.

We went to that church until I was 18. We went even when I begged Mom to let me go somewhere else. I needed friends my age, and there weren’t any people my age at that church to make friends with. Most people were 40-50 years older than me. Dad stopped going to church while I was still in elementary school, and we soon stopped going to anything but the first hour of Sunday School. So we went, had class with just me, my sister, and Mom, and came home. I’m not sure why we went, but Mom said we committed to go there and that, besides, they taught what she believed. This was probably the one thing that I learned very, very well. And I took that teaching straight into the churches I would attend after leaving home, unfortunately.

When the church betrays us, pt 7
When the church betrays us, pt 6
When the church betrays us, pt 5
When the church betrays us, pt 4
When the church betrays us, pt 3
When the church betrays us, pt 2
When the church betrays us, pt 1

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Toilet Training Your Emotions

Weird as that title might sound, we all have a load of emotions to deal with.  Especially if you’ve been in a spiritually abusive environment, sometimes the feelings can be very overwhelming.  he thing is, you were probably taught that some of those feelings were sins.  I know I was.

For me, since the pastor was also at home as my father, and the pastor’s wife was naturally my mother, there was no escaping church or rhetoric. While I love my parents and I feel they did whatever they did as a sincere attempt to instill in me their values, they were wrong about some things. For example, I was raised to think that showing any anger was a sin–for females at least. There was always that double standard. I saw my dad slam doors and spew anger when people crossed him, but it was certainly not something a “shamefaced” woman should do.

I remember several times where I was told as a child and teen “you need to go pray through” because I was angry about something. This shamed me and made me feel that every time I felt anger I had sinned. It follows, naturally, that I would be very attractive to a dominant male with an abusive nature. My marriage was full of abuse, while I prayed for God to help me be more submissive and to learn to pray for my husband. My parents saw what was going on, and they were very upset. My dad had always treated my mother with utmost respect and kindness. Little did they understand the groundwork that was laid when they raised me to be submissive.

I remember crying in relief when I realized the Bible never said not to be angry. (Eph. 4:26, ESV “Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your anger.”) It was okay to feel angry, as long as I didn’t sin in that anger. What a freeing concept!

All of these years later, I work in mental health. I find all sorts of dysfunctional ideas about emotions, but the most telling issue is when I discover a family is uncomfortable with a certain emotion. For my family, it was female anger. For another family it is sadness. Everyone yells and slams doors, but if you cry, that is weak and effeminate. If you feel depressed, suck it up “buttercup”, because life is full of tough breaks.

Some emotions are just messy.

The following story is an example of how I work with kids to teach them about emotions. Please note the character is fictional, although this scenario has played out in my work with children many times.

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Little Damion comes into my office with his red hair standing up in every direction. With a streak of dirt across the knee of his pants, and the sheen of sweat on his face, I gather he just came from recess. As I ask about his day and settle in for the intervention necessary to his treatment plan, I am reminded of his family.

Damion’s dad is a gruff farmer with no patience for nonsense. He has always worn his cowboy boots in for family sessions, his piercing blue eyes steely above his untrimmed beard. Mom is plump and friendly, with large dark eyes and a vivacious nature, but she is all business too. Old fashioned and unlikely to change, they have a real challenge in Damion. My goal in family sessions is to help them find other ways of disciplining Damion besides just using a belt and yelling at him, but change is not going to come quickly or easily.

My objective today is to help Damion understand that the sadness in his brown eyes is okay to express in words. He has issues expressing any other emotion besides anger, and it is causing a lot of problems in school. He hits playmates and throws terrible tantrums in school, climbing under the desks and screaming at anyone who comes close. I know that if he ever could learn to express the underlying emotions he feels, then it would release this pressure valve and he could get through a whole week of school without his parents being called.

I start out with something most every little boy finds amusing. “Did you know that feelings are like pooping and peeing?”

His eyes crinkle slightly and he half smiles as he shakes his head no.

“Well, they are. Would you say pooping and peeing are good or bad?”

He looks confused. “I dunno.”

“Well, they can be kind of gross and stinky, but they are good. Pooping helps our body get rid of things that our stomach cannot digest so that we don’t have old food in there rotting. And pee? Well, pee helps clean our blood and get any poisons out of our body. What do you think would happen if we couldn’t poop or pee?”

Damion scratches his cheek with a grubby finger. “We’d die?”

“That’s right. If we can’t poop, it can make us very sick because of all that rotten stuff inside of us. Eventually we could even die if we weren’t able to poop it out. The same is true for pee. If we can’t pee…even just for a whole day…we start getting sick. We’d have to go to the hospital and get a machine to help clean our blood because if we didn’t, we would die. Just like that, our feelings are super important because they give us important information about our safety and our health. Just like pee and poop are good because they help us, all feelings are good. Some of them, like poop, might be kind of gross or we might not like them that much, but all feelings are important to help us.”

He nods that he understands. “It even hurts real bad in my tummy when I need to poop.”

“That’s right. It can hurt us in our heart if we can’t get our feelings out. But I have a question for you. Would it be okay for me to go poop right on the principal’s desk?”

He looks shocked. “NO!” He exclaims, “that would be awful!”

“Right, it would be. Would it be okay if I climb up on a table in the cafeteria and just pee all over the table?”

He chuckles. “No. That would gross us all out.”

Smiling with him, I continue making my point. “Well, would it be okay then if I went into the bathroom and put my pee and poop in the toilet?”

“YES!” he shouts.

“Okay. What I want you to understand is that when you were a baby it was okay for you to poop and pee in your diaper. But mom taught you to put your poop and pee in the toilet. Just like that, I want you to know that our feelings are all okay, but we have to learn when and how to show them. It is like toilet training our feelings. Would it be okay for me to go into the principal’s office and scream in her face?”

“No.” he says, frowning.

“What about if I went in the cafeteria and started yelling at all the kids, stomping my feet and calling them names?”

“That would be very bad.”

I nod. “So, ALL feelings are okay. Sad, mad, happy, glad, grumpy, frustrated, scared…and all the others. They are all important to show. What we are going to do today is learn how to show our feelings in a polite and healthy way.”

I pull out my “I messages” game and continue the intervention with him.

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So what we have to realize is that every single one of our emotions are okay.  We can give ourselves permission to feel. After all, God is the one who created emotions in the first place.  In our journey to healing, it is of utmost importance that we do not allow that old guilt and shame from the spiritually abusive environment to keep us from feeling. Some of our feelings will be very infuriating. At times we may feel like screaming. At other times, we may cry until we feel we have no tears left. Sometimes we might laugh at the ridiculousness of what we were told. It is okay. As long as we can feel emotion we are healthy, we are alive, and we are moving forward.

My therapist explained to me that depression is often caused by stuffing one’s emotions inside and not allowing oneself to feel and to be okay with those feelings–whatever they are.  He told me to keep a journal and write down every day a list of feelings that I felt. He explained that new research is showing that simply doing an inventory of our feelings can create new patterns in our brains and can help us begin to feel better over time.

I was so used to rationalizing all my feelings that I didn’t even know what I felt. I googled “emotion wheel” and got a nice graphic that I use to help me figure out what it is I’m feeling when I’m not sure.

The important thing is that we do not stop having those emotions. They are messy and we have to learn what to do with them, but toilet training our feelings is certainly better than the alternative of mental death and stagnation.

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Not Everyone Who Is Friendly Is Your Friend

I woke up this morning with some sadness weighing on my heart, and heavy thoughts in my mind.

Mind if I talk about it?

Yesterday, someone I hadn’t talked to for quite a while came to mind. I asked my wife if she had heard from him lately, and she said no; with that, I made a note to check in with him later that night. I wanted to send him a late “Merry Christmas” and a “Happy New Year” on Facebook. I also wanted to see how he was doing, his church, family, etc… Late last night, I got on Facebook to check in, and after I searched his name, was taken aback by what I discovered.

He unfriended me.

I was shocked. I asked my wife to look him up in her Facebook account, and she’d also been unfriended. We’d also been removed from the private group that he ran.

Actions like this (refusing to contact an individual and work it out) can be a trigger for me. In the past, I talked to him about all of those “friends” who turned their backs on me when I left the United Pentecostal Church (UPCI). I’m surprised that he would do the exact same thing he criticized them for doing.

I was a minister in the UPCI, and leaving that organization was a horrible experience. One of the biggest obstacles was how so many friends and family I knew and loved just easily and quickly turned their backs on me. Unless you experience something like this, it’s difficult to understand.

Here is a question: how do people just all of sudden decide they don’t want to talk to you anymore, or want to be in your presence, and don’t want you in their lives? (Especially ministers that you’ve opened up to.)

When those UPCI people left, he was there. He talked to me, and helped me out. He gave me some good advice that actually HELPED me understand and get through that dark period of life. I’ll never forget these statements he gave me, and as a matter of fact, I have repeated them often while trying to help others.

“Not everyone who fights in the trenches with you is your friend.”

“There is a difference between being friendly, and being friends.”

The sad reality is that while I strive to be a friend, a lot of people only strive to be friendly. I learned the hard way how those are two very different things.

I know firsthand how difficult it is being a minister. Few will admit it, but ministers live wearing more masks than many of the people hearing their preaching. One mask is trying to please God, another is trying to please our friends, then family, the church, critics, the lost, etc… A minister is trying to balance all of that on a tight rope that really doesn’t exist. In fact, there are days were it would seem like walking on water would be a lot easier than trying to have a balanced relationship with everyone!

While many believers live trying to balance it all, often they fail. It happens to us all. At times, it all just becomes so very convoluted. When that happens, we often just start pushing people away.

You don’t have to push away the people who love, respect, cherish, listen, challenge, debate, and disagree with you. Everything doesn’t have to be perfect. I tell myself this every day.

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Afraid to leave… afraid to stay

I’ve been reorganizing. As I did, I came across a good-bye letter from me to the pastor from March 2008. I didn’t actually leave until December 2009. I don’t remember what prompted me to write the letter; I’m fairly certain it had to do with two younger women falsely accusing me of some really weird things–so weird that when he started rebuking me I had no idea who even could have come up with such ludicrous statements. I’m pretty sure from the way the letter is worded that I figured I’d be kicked out, not that I was planning to just walk out. I also know that I should have left even before that.

Reading the note – a note that was mainly thanks and praise of them for all the “good things” like outreach and being used so much and being “allowed” to help – brought back a lot of memories. Memories of such fear and anxiety that I would physically start shaking so hard I could barely stand if I so much as got a text from the pastor or his wife. Memories of my stomach in knots and me afraid to run to the bathroom because he’d be angrier if he’d called me to stand in his two hour after service line of people he wanted to talk to or who wanted to talk to him and stuck his head out and saw that I wasn’t there, or saw me leave service for any reason, or… Afraid to go to the church for anything, never knowing when I’d get ‘called in’ or what I’d be in trouble for next, and afraid not to go because missing anything meant a step toward hell, no matter what the reason for missing.

People who left had things said. They were garbage, trash. They weren’t worth talking to and couldn’t be trusted. Listening to them or spending any time with them was risking your own soul, because as the pastor said, “be careful who you fellowship!” If you associated with them, you were probably one of them. And if you were one of them, you were backslid, too, and had left God and fallen away ‘like a dog returned to his vomit.’

And so I was afraid to leave, but I was afraid to stay. I realize now that the pastor was exerting a tremendous amount of control with his after service lines that you had to stay in until 1:00 am if he told you to be there, even on a work night, and his rebukes based on false accusations — rebukes without giving the accused an opportunity to explain, harsh rebukes that didn’t even have to do with the original accusations in many cases, rebukes in which the condemned weren’t to say anything or they’d be talking back to the man of God, which was simply not done. I realized even then that the amount of terror that I was feeling and the physical toll it was taking were harmful. I’d been warned by doctors that stress was elevating bad things and manifesting physically. I didn’t know at the time how close I may have been to an emotional breakdown.

Leaving was costly. Staying was costlier. I stayed because I believed in God. I stayed until I barely had any faith left. They taught that those who left also left God, but I would have struggled less with faith in God if I’d abandoned faith in them a little sooner, before they’d entwined ideas of God with their sickness quite so much. I was afraid to leave, and after I wrote the letter I found tonight, it would still be another 21 months before I left. People there at the time may have wondered why I left. I look back, eight years later, and wonder why I ever stayed as long as I did. If I’d know then what I know now, I’m not sure if I’d have been more or less afraid of leaving. But looking back now, my regret is that I ever went there to start with… and that I didn’t leave sooner.

*Fear and anxiety like I describe here, and the kind of control I experienced should never be a part of any ‘church’. If you are in an organization and you are afraid to leave but afraid to stay, seek outside help. And somehow, leave. God will be on the other side of that door, no matter what they say.

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