Category: United Pentecostal Church | Page 74

Religious Traditions

When I was young, we used to have all-night prayer meetings occasionally, and sometimes all night “watch night services”. These were times when we stayed at church all night, praying and on one occasion, fasting.

Sometimes there would be footwashing and communion during these times. There would also be a lot of prayer, and some preaching and singing. Interestingly enough, everybody was so sleepy that I’m not sure how much they were praying or just repeating the same thing over and over again. At any rate, a few of these occasions stick out in my mind.

On one occasion it must’ve been a sectional meeting, because I remember some teenagers that were not normally at our church being there. I was probably 9, 10 years old or something like that. I can remember trying to stay awake and it was so hard for me. We were going to stay there until 6 o’clock in the morning. These teen kids laid down on the pews to take a nap during the session and I remember thinking how carnal they were. I managed to stay awake the whole time, largely because I didn’t want to be like them and their “bad example.” In retrospect, I figure they had more sense than anybody there.

I remember the relief when it was finally over, and watching the sun come up as we went home. Of course, the next day would be completely unproductive, because we were all sleeping the day away. Now, I really do not see the point in that, because you can pray whether it’s day or night, and we made up our sleep anyway.

Apparently, my dad didn’t see the point in it either, because after those few times I have in my memory, we never had an all night service again. During the watch night services, after that point, we never stayed all night long. However, service would start a little bit later, and we would usually make it till midnight, or close to.

I remember communion being a big ordeal. First of all you would be told several services ahead of time, so you could “get your heart right.” Because, the slightest little thing that you had in your heart, whether it be bitterness against someone, unforgiveness, or even some unknown sin you had not figured out that you had done yet…any one of these could mean that you were “taking the Lord’s supper unworthily.” I’m not sure, from memory, exactly what all that entailed, but it was very severe, and it meant that you were going to have some awful punishment from God.

So, there was usually fasting and prayer a few days before you went to take communion. Right before you took communion, there was usually another time of repenting, just to make sure that you filtered out every sin and repented of it. Then you could take communion, but only if you had the Holy Ghost. Otherwise, you were still under that horrible curse of whatever might occur as punishment for taking the Lord’s supper unworthily.

I remember the first time I took communion at a different location, in a more liberal church. I was amazed at the difference. Although it was taken seriously, as in thinking about the Cross, everybody was invited to partake, regardless of whether they had the Holy Ghost or not, even children were included. I was blown away!

I began to think about why all the fear and scare tactics had been heaped upon us at those times, And why the taking of the Lord’s supper was so rare. I really never figured it out. I know the Bible talks about taking the Lord’s supper unworthily, but it never really seemed to be, on a surface reading, exactly the huge fearful issue that I was accustomed to. Anyway, I always dreaded communion, because I was afraid that there might be some stray sin that I had forgotten to repent about. I had this irrational fear that God would strike me dead if I forgot to repent of something.

Also, crying seemed to be a necessity. While I always appreciated the seriousness of the representation of what we were doing, I couldn’t always summon tears about it. I know that Jesus died for us on the cross, and sacrificed for us, but he did it so that we could have joy and salvation. Sometimes I didn’t feel like crying. However, there was something inside me that was afraid that if I didn’t, I would be taking it “unworthily.” When I think about just this one fearful ceremony, I realize anew that there are so many reasons I suffer from anxiety.

Foot Washing was a whole story in and of itself. We were told to wash our feet really good before we came, ironically. Then, all the women would go in one room and all the men would go in the other room. I remember that some women would be wearing their pantyhose when it was time to wash their feet. It felt really weird to be splashing water on feet clad in pantyhose. Everyone would be crying and praying and speaking in tongues while they washed someone else’s feet.

The problem for me was that I was extremely ticklish on my feet. I would be trying to be all serious and spiritual, but the minute their hand would brush over the bottom of my feet my feet would jerk. This didn’t lend to a very spiritual atmosphere, so I’d always feel guilty. However, in time as I grew, I learned to still myself to where the jerking would be less, or I would warn them before they washed my feet that I was very ticklish, and to avoid the bottom of my feet. That way everybody could still stay spiritual, weeping and praying, instead of giggling over my ticklish feet.

After the foot washing, there would be a lot of hugging and apologies “in case I’ve ever offended you”. Now, thinking back, I’m not sure exactly where all the traditions surrounding this really came from.

When Jesus washed his disciples feet, it was because there was dung and dirt on them. He took that role instead of having the usual servant do it, in order to teach them that the master needs to be a servant to his followers. Nowadays there’s no reason to be washing each others feet, unless it’s just for the symbolism. Most everybody has a shower to wash their own feet, and none of us really walk through dung to get to church.

Anyway, throughout my time growing up, as my father begin to fellowship more and more in the “conservative” circles, I began to see some very weird things happen. For example, if a young man had a “hero worship” for one of the preachers, he would often come and say “I just want to shine your shoes would you let me shine your shoes?” Or, he would come and say “I need to wash your feet brother… I just need to wash your feet.”

This was in direct contrast to what Jesus was trying to show his disciples. He didn’t say “Peter you come wash my feet”. In fact, He said “no, you’re not going to wash my feet, Peter. I’m trying to teach you something here. I’m going to wash your feet.”

Although the pastors did wash feet during foot washing services, I don’t remember ever seeing a pastor just walk up to someone and say “I need to wash your feet…I just want to show you I’m here to serve.” Yet, interestingly enough, as I began in my middle adult years to study the Scriptures concerning the role of a pastor in one’s life, the Bible spoke clearly about a pastor being a servant.

This is in direct contrast to what I saw during those times when people wanted to just polish pastor’s shoes, or wash his feet….especially since those preachers often let that happen publicly, (at least the shoeshine).

Anyway, I still don’t see any need in our culture for foot washing services. I think we can show our servant hood to one another in other more practical ways, like providing a new tire for a widow who can’t scrape the money together. Or, babysitting the children of a single mother for free so that she can have a day off. The idea was about servant-hood, not cleaning somebody’s feet.

However, I digress.

In discussing all night services, one in particular stands out in my mind. I was young, but I don’t remember exactly how old. I would say I had probably not yet reached my teen years, or if I had it was early on in my teen years. I just remember one “watch night service” where my dad brought an alarm clock, and began preaching at about 11 o’clock at night. He was talking about the end of time coming (in the rapture). As it got closer and closer to midnight, he began to talk about there just “being a little time left.” It was a very emotional and impacting message, (obviously, since I remember it so many years later). The fear was tangible, and I literally felt for a few moments during it that the rapture would definitely take place at midnight.

He didn’t say that, of course, but it was a very powerful object lesson. The repentance and fear in the building was palpable.

After the new year being such a serious thing for most of my life, it feels odd now to be celebrating a New Year’s Eve with my children at home. I know a lot of people play games or have friends over, and we have played games at times, but even now, every New Year’s Eve I think about those services with the fear and the exhaustion, the communion and foot washing. I wonder how many children are sitting in church, paralyzed with fear, thinking the rapture is about to happen, and afraid they may not measure up.

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Ministers Who Don’t Keep Confidences

Ministers who don’t keep confidences are another sign of an unhealthy church. One should be able to counsel with a minister and know that what is shared will stay between them alone, unless permission is given otherwise.

The United Pentecostal Church, in their Manual of rules states, “When a minister receives information that is a privileged communication, the minister shall not divulge or repeat any part of such communication to any other person unless compelled to do so by law or if the communicant waives the privilege. Privileged communication shall be defined as any confession or communication made to a minister in confidence by a person seeking spiritual advice or consolation and who expects that such information will not be divulged by the minister to another person.” (Article VII, Section 7, 32 – 2016 Manual) It is also mentioned in one of their position papers.

Despite this, through the years I have heard that some ministers have used privileged information to shame and manipulate church members. They incorporate it into sermons. They share it with their wife and other family members. It may come out under the guise of a prayer request for the individual. They may even share private matters about members with people who don’t even attend the church where they pastor. Where and who the information is shared with doesn’t concern the unethical pastor.

A minister is to have the heart of a servant. Using privileged information to shame, manipulate, humiliate, control or hurt people, is a sign of an abusive individual who, though they may hold the title of a minister, they are not representative of Christ or Christianity in their actions.

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Growing Up as a PK

Growing up as a preacher’s kid had its own special set of problems, as well as privileges. While other kids in the church made it clear to me they were jealous of the fact that I got to be around preachers’ families, (some of them good looking boys), there were also quite a few problematic issues.

For starters, my parents were not my own. I shared my parents with the entire congregation, and all the other kids. At one point during my teenage years, I felt very ignored by my parents. This was likely just my perception as a teenage girl, but it did not help that they spent hours upon hours counseling with my best friend. Because by this time I had decided to obey all the rules, and was a “good girl”, I did not require as much attention. At the time I did not know why… I just felt ignored.

Another issue with being the preacher’s daughter was that, when people got mad at my dad, they would often take it out on me or my sister. They couldn’t really take it out on the “man of God”, so they would use us to get to him. This seemed more safe, perhaps because of the scripture “touch not my anointed“. We were not the anointed in this context as seen through the glasses of the cult mindset. Our dad was the “anointed”. So, because they couldn’t touch him, they would go for us. My sister had it a lot worse than I did, because her personality was much like my father’s. We were just kids. We didn’t choose who to be born to…and we didn’t understand what was going on. It was hard.

On top of all that, our dad and mother expected us to be “examples”. This meant that, even though we were children, we were expected to act at a higher level of obedience and be an example to the other kids in the church. This had to do with our attitudes, the way we dressed, the things we did, and the words coming out of our mouths.

We were taught to be conscious of certain people in the church who liked to gossip, and to be very careful what we said around any of the church people. We were taught to keep things that we knew to ourselves, because we did know a lot about what was going on with the pastor’s counseling with saints. We had to be careful that we dressed a little more modestly, and that we did not show our temper, no matter what was done or said to us.

Because I was the one with the milder nature, it was easier for me to comply to all of these things. My sister had a difficult time with the behavior part of it. She had ADHD, (of course undiagnosed), but her impulses were hard to control, especially the words that popped out of her mouth. I think she got a spanking every single day of her life, or close to it.

I can remember other kids and teenagers asking me before church, “what is your dad going to preach tonight?” I had no idea what my dad was going to preach! It made me angry that they would ask me such questions. I just wanted to be a kid blending in with everybody else, but that was never possible.

On the other hand, I did get to hear all the preacher talk when we had visiting ministers. I did get to stay up late when we were in revival and meet other preachers’ kids. I did get to go on a lot of trips across the country to go to special meetings. I got opportunities to see different parts of the country that they never saw.

Still, the positive and negative of every lifestyle blends together to make us who we are. Although I am an adult well-versed in the geography of our nation, as well as being aware of many different cultures, there are some scars as well.

I remember at 14 years old when all the young people in the church turned their backs on me and wanted nothing to do with me. It all started with jealousy towards me because we were at an age to be interested in the opposite sex, and I was getting to “fellowship” with more people of the opposite sex than they were, because of visiting ministers bringing their sons. What they didn’t realize was that I was so shy, I rarely even spoke to any of those people, even sitting across the table from them.

On the other hand, I was trying so hard to fit in with the other young people in our church, and being home-schooled, it was the only peer group I had. I would go with them anywhere they invited me, and do my best to participate in whatever was going on. However, being teenagers, they got involved in some things that were against the rules. They were listening to Carmen, music that was Christian, but had been forbidden by my father. Then there was the watching TV for a few minutes in the mall. That of course was appalling!

I wanted so much to be a part of the group! While we were at the mall, they went to Spencer’s Gifts, just to read the “nasty cards”. I didn’t even know what the cards meant. I just knew we were not supposed to be doing that. However, there is no way that I would disagree openly with them, or say anything to my family.

After that, it grew into listening to “light rock”, or easy listening music. I had my own stereo in my room, which had been given to me so I could listen to Christian music. Southern gospel was what was “OK”, so that’s what I usually listened to. Now I started turning on the radio very low to listen to “I just called to say I love you”, by Stevie Wonder. The other songs were as innocuous as that one was, in retrospect. I would turn it down very low and put my head up to the speaker so my parents wouldn’t find out. However, I felt guilty because I knew that I was not supposed to be listening to this music.

As I discussed music with the other young people, I discovered that one of them was listening to “I want your sex”, on a date with a young man from another UPC church in the area. (This was the same girl that had earlier been molested when she was 14 by a thirty-something year old man. In retrospect, her untreated trauma likely led her into some sexual relationships as a teenager.) Although the knowledge of this song being played on a date bothered me, I still said nothing to my father.

Eventually though, a “hell-fire and brimstone message” was preached at church. I became very “convicted” that I knew about this, and that I was listening to music that I should not be involved in. I did not want to go to hell over listening to music that was “ungodly”. Not only did I repent of my “sinfulness”, I felt that I needed to go and confess my sin to my dad, as he was my pastor and “watching out for my soul.” In my confession, I also told him about the girl on her date and what song had been listened to.

In his great “wisdom”, he got up in the pulpit preaching, and in one of his sermons, actually said “you don’t need to be listening to “I want your sex” when you’re out on a date with someone. He went on to elaborate about why that was not appropriate, and there were a lot of emphatic “amens” backing him up. I was horrified, because I knew they would know that I was the one that had told him. However, it was “suffering for the kingdom.” I was helping him “watch out for their souls”.

Sure enough, for over year I was excluded from every event when the youth got together. They would not talk to me, and if I walked up when they were talking to each other, they would quickly close their mouths and turn away. It was a miserable, lonely place. It was devastating to me as a teenager. I think I grew up more in that year than any other time in my adolescence.

At the end of that year, my dad had acquired a youth leader. He worked really hard to bring unity to the youth. This meant that he actually had conversations with the rest of the youth individually about how they were treating me. It was obvious to him, looking on from the outside. My dad never said anything to him about it.

At that point, things gradually got better, but still it never went back to what it was like before. They accepted me, and they invited me to things, but they were careful around me, as if it had been my parents there. I learned to keep my mouth shut about the little things that I noticed. And I didn’t feel quite as lonely. But, every moment I was always aware that I was “different”, and I worked hard to be an example to them. I was already learning about the separation between the “ministry” and the “saints”.

Because I was a preacher’s daughter, I went first through every line at every fellowship after services. They always had the preachers families go first. They often had “preachers tables” or “preachers families tables”. There was a lot of separation, and I was a part of it.

It became my comfort zone, and I didn’t know how to fit in anywhere else. Unfortunately, that is only a tiny part of life. Even though it was my whole life, and it served me well as a preacher’s wife, it caused much more grief for me when I was no longer a preacher’s wife.

That separation that was ingrained in me as a child made me feel that the ministry was somehow “superior”. It was a special group to which I belonged by birth, and later by marriage. When I no longer had that distinction, and I was “just a saint”, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I had lost my identity, and I know longer knew what to say, how to act, or how to fit in. I was a ship who had lost my sail.

Not only do I now view this separation as very UN-Christlike, but I also see it as very damaging, not only for the lay people in the church, but for the families of the preachers themselves. Although I was taught that spiritual things and church was the most important thing in life, and my entire life revolved around it, reality is much different. Church is simply a small part of life. A person is ill prepared for life when they stick their head in the sand and feel that they can live in a spiritual bubble.

As an adult I still had much difficulty feeling like I could “fit in” anywhere. Eventually, I found out that people who had never been in these kind of environments seemed to accept me much better. I found that I fit in best with other people who grew up in some sort of dysfunction, even though it may have been very different than my own.

I have never learned how to fit in with saints in any church. I simply do not know how to communicate without holding back that one part of myself and maintaining that separation. It’s hard to make friends in that way, so, my best friends do not go to church.

My best friends are people who have been abused as children or adults. They are people who have been hurt and wounded. The people that I fit in with are those who have been abandoned and struggled to survive.

I realize now that there is nothing wrong with me. I’ve gained a new identity. I am broken, healing, a work in progress, and happy to be honest about it all. I am learning to be authentic, something that is almost impossible as a part of the preachers family in a cult environment. Now I am free. I can just be me, and realize that me is a pretty cool person to be.

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Selective reading of the scriptures

It amazes me how my former church organization was able to justify reading the scriptures to support their doctrines and ignoring the ones that do not.

An example is “Man looks on the outward appearance but God looks on the heart”. They interpret this to mean that God expects you to wear and not wear certain things, especially if you are a woman –say what???!!!

Another is “take no thought for what you should wear . . . something about how he clothes the birds, etc”. They interpret this as think very hard about what you wear and make sure it is approved by the church and pastor. Oh, and be sure to take hours on that hairdo and shopping is of course one of our only approved activities.

Then there are all the scriptures about love, including God is Love. They interpret these to mean love your brother and sister IF they are in ‘the truth’ and following all the rules very closely, but remember God is an angry God and you better be careful what you do, see, hear, say because you are one small step from eternal damnation! Oh, and remember all that gossip and meanness you pass around when a brother or sister slip up is really done in ‘love’ Yeah right!

Of course the scriptures about gluttony are completely ignored. They create an entire doctrine around one obscure scripture about hair while they walk around in their tonnage proclaiming their scriptural superiority.

Don’t even consider the scripture about the good Samaritan, if you see a poor soul in need, only pay attention if he/she can in some way promote the message of the church.

There is a scripture about humility, something about taking the low seat and perhaps being asked to move up being better than the other way around –well, that one they totally demolished. They create a whole table of high seats, usually related and God forbid anyone would have the nerve to question their right to be there.

There are more anomalies but you get the picture and isn’t it just sad?

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Bloody Hands, Wounded Souls

*WARNING: This contains material which may be triggering to some*

As I spent the rest of my growing up years as the pastor’s daughter of this church, many different things happened. A lot of them were things that I did not understand at the time but later came to understand, and now feel very shocked over.

One of these situations was when a 14-year-old girl in the church was seduced by a thirty something-year-old man with a 12-year-old daughter. This family had moved in from somewhere else, and my Dad was not aware that he had been a pedophile with teenage girls previously.

In those days it was not looked at in the same way it is now. Still, he seduced this young girl in the church and began having an ongoing sexual relationship with her. He would pick her up from school without her parents knowledge, and take her to his home where they would have sex, or to her home, when her family was not at home.

When my father found out about this, it was called “an affair” and both of the parties were punished equally with church discipline, meaning that neither one of them could participate in any kind of leadership in the church services for an extended period of time. The girl was young, and had not been participating in the services other than to play a rhythm instrument in the congregation. She was not allowed to do this anymore at that point. The man was involved in church leadership and he was also placed “in discipline.”

It was not until many years later as a grown woman that I realized how horrible it was for that young girl to be punished, as if she had done equally wrong as this thirty-something-year-old man. She was just a child, just having come into puberty. She was taken advantage of by a grown man. Not only was this horrible child abuse, and not only was it not reported, but the girl was disciplined, punished and shamed just as much as the man. She was the victim, and yet on top of being victimized, she was also made to feel that she was somehow at fault.

Sadly, she developed a pattern in her life of being with abusive, controlling men. To this day she is in a marriage where she is treated as a second class citizen. I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened had she received compassion and been pointed to counseling instead of being condemned.

In another case, a child I grew up with was obviously troubled, had anger issues, and very bad social issues. It was known that her dad had been in trouble with the law various times for exposing himself in public, masturbating in public, and wearing women’s underwear in public.

He had supposedly repented, and regularly played an instrument in church, as well as singing with his wife. As this girl grew into her young teenage years, her rebellion and anger grew. At times I was the only person near her age that would even talk to her. I always felt sorry for her, feeling like something was wrong.

Often she would sit and talk to me in detail about her feelings of anger toward her family. Eventually she shared that her dad had molested her sexually. As a young girl her age, I did not know what to do. I told my parents about it, and they called her in privately to talk to her about it.

She shared with them that she had been molested, but as they pressured her to make sure it was true, she changed her story and lied, saying it never had happened. As they continue to talk with her again she began to cry and say that it had happened, but eventually under pressure said that it had not happened. In their inexperience with such situations, they never did anything about it.

Eventually, she had a one night stand with a man who was sleeping around with different women in the church. Finally, she left the church and married some guy she had met. The last time I saw her she looked like she was about 80 years old. She’s been using drugs for years and cannot seem to break free from it. She’s been homeless living under a bridge, she’s been beaten by previous spouses, she’s terribly addicted to drugs, and only a shell of who she once was.

She gave birth to two children, a boy and a girl, and signed custody of those children over to her mother. While those children were growing up, her dad repeatedly got in trouble with the law, for flashing people in parking lots while wearing women’s underwear and a woman’s wig.

Because my dad publicly exposed his deeds to the congregation, and eventually ask him to leave, they haven’t attended my dad’s church for many years. They attend another UPC (United Pentecostal Church) church in the area. Those children grew up, and recently the girl turned 18, left home and the UPC church, and publicly came out and said that both her grandfather and her brother had molested her sexually.

I can’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if her mother’s reports of sexual abuse had been taken seriously. What would’ve happened if she had gotten counseling and help, as a young teenage girl? Would any of this further pain have occurred at all?

During the time that she was still at home, her parents welcomed a close relationship with a young adult woman who was in her early 20s. This woman eventually began to show sexual attention to their young son, who was about 14 at the time.

Again, my father, as pastor of both the woman and the boy, dealt with both of them equally. He strongly rebuked the woman, and called the boy in for a “counseling session.” He described to our family how he talked to this boy about the fact that this woman had kissed him, what feelings it must’ve stirred up in him, and how he would’ve felt her female curves pressing against him while she was kissing him. Neither of them ever said that there was an actual sexual act that occurred. Still, she was seducing a 14-year-old boy, and should have been reported. Nothing was ever done about it. That boy grew up into a man and left the church.

Although there are countless other stories that I could share, I will skip forward to my adult years. At a time when my own children had suffered child abuse at the hands of their father, I had them in counseling with a professional children’s counselor.

Another woman in my dad’s church asked me for the name of the clinic where my children were being seen. She had just separated from her drug addict husband, who had been very abusive to her son. She wanted her 15-year-old son to receive counseling, to help him recover from the situation. I gave her the name and number of the clinic where my children were being seen.

As a “good saint”, she told my dad that she planned to take her son there. He told her not to take her son to a professional. He told her he would do any counseling that her son needed, and then he privately rebuked me for giving her this information. (I won’t go into my reaction to his rebuke in this post.)

His “counseling” of that teenage boy was to have him come out and mow his lawn repeatedly, and gruffly try to give him some advice. He also had the boy hang around while he worked on different projects, helping with physical labor. That was all the “help” the child ever received.

This young boy was being homeschooled by his mother, but she now had to go work a full-time job. He was left at home bored, and began to wander the streets. My dad publicly rebuked him about this from the pulpit, in front of the entire congregation. This was a very shaming and humiliating scenario, with a lot of loud amens from the congregation.

The child was now branded, and as one might expect, he simply ran the streets more than he had before. He never graduated from high school, but soon got a job. He then proceeded to impregnate different girls, eventually receiving drugs from his dad.

The last I heard about him, he was regularly shoplifting, robbing different places to support his drug habit, and sometimes selling drugs. He had children by different women that he was not taking care of, and couldn’t hold down a job. His mother’s only child, she is left with this heartache and a distant relationship with her son. She tries to do what she can to indoctrinate these little children he’s procreated, whenever she gets a chance to bring them to church. She often has to clean them up and show them nurturing that they’re not getting at home.

My heart breaks every time I think of this story. Could he have been saved, if only he had received the professional help he needed? Why does ego get so involved in these spiritually abusive cultures? Why does a pastor think he can be everything in all ways to the people he pastors? When did pastoring become ruling instead of just preaching?

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