Category: recovery | Page 27 | Spiritual Abuse Blogs

What happened at the Jim Berg protest

Editorial Note: The following is reprinted with permission from Eleanor Skelton’s blog. It was originally published on February 10, 2015.

A couple of weeks ago, I organized a protest group picketing Jim Berg’s “Christian Growth Bible Conference” at Grace Bible Church in Colorado Springs.

I’m a recently unsheltered homeschool kid.

Social justice was frowned upon.

When Martin Luther King Day rolled around or the civil rights movement came up, my parents said racism was wrong but the oppressed group should still respect the authority God placed over them, citing verses like 1 Tim. 2:1-3 and 1 Peter 2:13-15.

Funny how we ignored that little bit about Jesus cleansing the temple, telling off the Pharisees. Oh right, Jesus was an exception because he was God and his anger was righteous. We are but flawed humans, don’t you know.

Kind of like this tweet:

So my friends and I turned to social media and alerted the local TV and radio stations. 98.9 Magic FM interviewed me.

We gathered at the church with handmade cardboard signs around 6:30 pm, as the cars began to pile in.

One suburban pulled up and rolled down a window. “What does your sign say?” the driver asked.

I replied, “Berg blames victims.”

He looked confused. He answered, “For what?”

“For their rape,” I said. “Berg’s unethical counseling affected nearly 200-300 people over 30 years…”

He drove away.

But one couple approached us, said they wanted to hear the other side. They had never heard of Berg before the church announced the conference.

One of my friends handed them one of the flyers she made, with a QR code linking back to my blog.

They offered us water and asked honest questions before going in, and later read my blog post, sparking a discussion that left 17 comments.

Deacons from the church brought coffee and cookies. The others and I decided not to accept them, leaving a pointed note.

We left flyers on the parked cars, then decided to walk down the street to warm up before the conference let out.

Then a car pulled up.

A lady pulled up, asking for me. She said she’d driven several hours to come after a friend shared our social media posts with her. She said she was going to ask some questions.

And she hugged me. Really hugged me.

I told her this was the church that had shunned me two years ago.

She said she was once a fundamentalist, and was so sorry for what I had experienced. She held me and said, “This is not your Jesus,” and blessed me in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

I wanted to cry.

I never thought I’d see anyone cross over from the other side, blessing me with healing.

Follow up comments on my blog and other social media were encouraging. We told people at the church who hadn’t been following Bob Jones in the news, who had no idea about the GRACE report and Berg’s involvement.

We broke through the silence.

Libby Anne recently reminded us that Bill Gothard was brought down by a blog, that blogging is a valid form of righting wrongs.

I want to continue these kinds of efforts, to see real change in churches and homeschool communities. Which is what my next series is about.

https://vine.co/v/OT3derFAr9P

Missing the mark: Exploring the meaning of ‘sin’ beyond fundamentalism

Editorial Note: The following is reprinted with permission from Eleanor Skelton’s blog. It was originally published on November 9, 2014.

I cry, Father, Father, forgive me
You say, Child, I already have.
– Joy Williams, Beautiful Redemption

I pulled back on the bowstring, my arm trembling to hold it taut.

My friend Ashley gave me pointers from the other side of the archery pit.

“Pull your finger back before you release so the arrow doesn’t catch.”

“Aim a bit to the other side and higher.”

Steel slipped between my two hands, out and away through the crisp November dusk. The arrow struck the hay bale near orange spray paint.

“Hey! That one wasn’t bad!” I said, extracting the arrow from the netting.

Using a bow and arrow involves rewiring neural connections to tune hand-eye coordination. Which takes repetition. I still miss, mostly.

Living requires the same dedication. I mess up every day, missing a deadline, saying the wrong thing.

But, as my friend Elraen often says, you are not what you do.

Modern church has many sermons and worship choruses about sin and sinners. We’re told from an early age that “we have all sinned, and come short of the glory of God,” as part of the Romans Road.

But cultural connotations are lost in language translation, because Koine Greek and Hebrew have evolved into modern forms.

In my two semesters of Koine Greek this year, I discovered the original meaning of “sin.” The word is ἁμαρτία, pronounced “hamartia” and means “to miss the mark,” specifically in archery. Basically, a mistake. Sinner is ἁμαρτωλός: a poor marksman or mistake-maker.

But our American culture has no physical reference for the word. So we’ve made it a state of being. Pretty much since the word came into the English language.

In the opening paragraphs of A Christmas Carol, Dickens uses it to describe Ebenezer Scrooge:

“Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner!”

And Shakespeare does it, although Elizabethan England lacks the rigid sanctimoniousness of Victorian society:

“Those healths will make thee and thy state
look ill, Timon. Here’s that which is too weak to
be a sinner, honest water, which ne’er left man i’ the mire”
(Apemantus, in Timon of Athens – Act 1, Scene 2)

“Well, I will be so much a sinner, to be a
double-dealer: there’s another.”
(Duke Orsino, Twelfth Night – Act 5, Scene 1)

English usage often links sinner with a “be” verb, making “sinner” a label, a title. Like an occupation. The word becomes an identifier, it sticks to us.

Guess who else liked to use “sinner” to label people? The Pharisees.

The Gospels contain 30 total references to “sinner.”

Five of them are used by the gospel writers (Matthew 9:10, Mark 2:15, Mark 2:16, Luke 7:37, Luke 15:1).

Eight times, the Pharisees point out specific people they do not approve of (twice calling Jesus a sinner). (Matthew 9:11, Mark 2:16, Luke 5:30, Luke 7:39, Luke 15:2, Luke 19:7, John 9:16, John 9:24)

Jesus uses the word 14 times, five in direct response to the Pharisee’s accusations (Matthew 9:13, Matthew 11:19, Mark 2:17, Luke 5:32, Luke 7:34), seven in talking to the disciples, often opposing some Pharisaical idea (Luke 6:32, Luke 6:33, twice in Luke 6:34, Luke 13:2, Luke 15:7, Luke 15:10), and twice when being betrayed, ironically, to the Pharisees (“into the hands of sinners,” Matthew 26:45, Mark 14:41).

Then one mention by the repentant tax collector (Luke 18:13) and twice from a healed blind man (John 9:25, John 9:31).

I get the sense that Jesus didn’t like to label people, because his conversations with the Pharisees usually go something like this:

Pharisees: “WHY ARE YOU HANGING OUT WITH /SINNERS/?”
Jesus: “Um…because I came for sinners?”

And the Pharisees don’t recognize that sometimes, they are also mark-missers.

The Gospels mention “sin” 126 times total (Matthew: 32, Mark: 21, Luke: 45, John: 28). Just the action. And those verses have new connotations for me, too.

“If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have gained your brother.” (Matthew 18:15, ESV). Oh. So, if my friend misses the mark in our friendship, if I am hurt, I should tell him directly.

Humans hurt and disappoint each other every day. Sometimes missing the mark can be overcome with practice, behavior patterns can be altered.

Other times a mistake is serious or even fatal. My aim in the archery pit isn’t the sum of my identity, but a misfired arrow can wound.

Maybe that’s what Jesus’ redemption is about – he makes it so our mistakes no longer define us, so we stop attaching the name “sinner” to ourselves. The labels peel off like a used “hello my name is” sticker, and I am free.

But he saw through my labels all along.

When No Must Mean No: Setting Boundaries

It’s kind of odd, when you think about it, that people who otherwise have strong convictions on issues such as religion can be somewhat ambiguous when it comes to expressing disagreement, largely out of fear of offending someone. Nobody wants to have a lot of conflict going on, particularly in family gatherings, but at some point you do have to set and enforce your own boundaries.

We set boundaries in our lives all the time, often without recognizing them as such. How often have you decided you won’t discuss politics with that annoying co-worker, won’t bring up an issue with a relative who won’t respect your side, or have decided to leave the room when someone in your home watches a political pundit or televangelist you can’t tolerate?

A lot of trouble that occurs in a spiritually abusive setting happens either when we don’t set ground rules to govern our interactions with others or don’t enforce our own boundaries once set. Had I learned this particular lesson years ago, I might have saved myself a lot of aggravation.

One example I can think of: very persistent, unwanted church invitations, regardless of whether you have a church home or even have interest in one. At one time, I had to cope with a lot of this from United Pentecostal people, and know this is a very real problem whenever you have relatives or friends who don’t accept where you are on your spiritual journey.

Don’t leave it up in the air about whether you intend to follow up on their invitation. If you have no intention of going with them, nicely tell them you appreciate the invite, but you are not going.

If you do want to attend with them but aren’t interested in joining, make it clear that you are visiting – period. You don’t need to get into any theological objections.

Another thing I have observed, especially in social media interactions, is that some people with no respect for the beliefs of others treat social media as a free-for-all. In some cases, it is easier to control your interactions with others by restricting which posts those with no self-control can see and interact with.

We probably all have that family member or friend who gets hung up on the same few issues where it comes to religion. When they continually refuse to respect how others think or misrepresent opposing beliefs, your safest bet may be to nicely tell them the subjects in question are off-limits.

By nicely telling someone no or otherwise setting boundaries, you are controlling your interaction with them. Staying in control of the discussion makes things less frustrating all around.

Just Couldn’t Stay Part 2

Continued from Part One.

It wasn’t just one thing that made me decide to leave as I mentioned yesterday, it was a compilation of many.

Alright back story time. I grew up in a ‘holiness’ church. Translation: any and everything will result in loss of salvation and send you to Hell. Things like fish net pantyhose, men with no ties on their shirts, crossing your legs in church for women, and popping your fingers because that is what the worldly people did to worldly music. Literally any and everything was a sin. Sin too many times and God would get tired of you and you would be “turned over to the devil.” All hope was lost at that point. You could have very well been bff’s with the Anti-Christ at that point. The list could go on and on.

Growing up my mother wouldn’t even participate in just everyday conversations at times because that would result in loss of salvation. I remember one time she yelled out in fear and anger “I’m not worried about those people I’m just trying to stay saved.” The reason for the outburst, my dad had just asked her if she remembered an old friend.

The deal is this ‘holiness’ group was not Apostolic Pentecostal aka Oneness Pentecostals. They were/are Trinitarians and believed in Matthew 28:19 literally. However, they were saved and we believed we were too at that time. They spoke in tongues, prophesied, danced in the Spirit, dressed and looked the part of UPC standards and obeyed the pastors every word.

We left that church for a time and started attending an United Pentecostal church across town, you know those Jesus only people. They did all the exact same things we did at our old church except for the “3 step salvation part.” I was only six at the time but I adored that little church. We didn’t stay there long though and I never knew why. So off we marched back to the Trinitarian holiness church.

For the most part that was my religious upbringing. The upbringing of fire and brimstone, blink twice and burn in hell, “God ain’t playing with y’all,” once saved barely saved, doubt your salvation every second of the day upbringing. How did I cope with it at the tender age of two till I could escape, suffer through a lot of psychology damage? It wasn’t until later in life I realized how catastrophic my view of God was.

When I was fifteen we decided to leave that church and organization for good. We visited another little UPC church in our town. They quickly let us know we had not been in the “truth.”

To be continued.

Help my unbelief

Editorial Note: The following is reprinted with permission from Eleanor Skelton’s blog. It was originally published on October 27, 2014.

I’m often told by friends and blog readers that my “vibrant Christianity” is inspiring, that I “maintain remarkable stability in the face of incredible odds.”

But I wonder if they’d still say that if they knew the me who sometimes wonders if spirituality is real or just a coping mechanism for survival, the me whose panic drags her to the toilet the morning of an exam. The twenty-something whose anxiety causes her to still jump and feel a rush of shame redden my ears when a supervisor approaches me at work, even if nothing is wrong.

So why do I stay? Why do I cling to Jesus?

The other day, I admitted to my friend Cynthia Jeub:

I explained it to my friend Aaron, who recently wrote a blog series on coming out as an atheist, like this:

“I know none of the things my heart wants to be true can be scientifically proven. I believe there is a God because I think I have experienced His presence. And I really admire this guy Jesus whether he was God or not. I think he was an incredible guy who didn’t take religious bullshit, and who wanted justice for the oppressed. And more than anything? I’d like to be like him and to shake the world up. But that’s all I know for sure anymore.”

But this is my story, and my other friends have different stories. I am finding healing within the context of Christianity, and my fragile faith is becoming my own. But not everyone does.

I’ve heard many people say your view of God is nearly identical to your view of your father.

So when friends have needed to leave their dysfunctional homes, sometimes their healing journey makes it necessary for them to leave Christianity entirely.

One friend described it as “ditching God” to “unravel the Good and Bad Shepherd.”

R.L. Stollar, community coordinator for Homeschoolers Anonymous, writes in his post The Scarlett Letter of Unbelief: “It’s hard enough on its own, this thing called belief. Life is filled with pain and suffering and when those elements get overwhelming, they reveal how fragile belief can be.”

Like my friends, I have tossed out all but the raw heartbeat of my faith, eliminating the poison for the cure. Finding what remained after the shattering. And only now can I safely rebuild.

Modern evangelical Christianity often values faith so highly that it fears the doubters. But as I commented on R.L. Stollar’s post last year, “the church needs to recognize that it is okay to be sad and okay to be messy and okay to be broken.”

What shows a “doubter” the Jesus we’ve read about more: an understanding hug, a cup of hot chocolate and Kleenex, or some memorized Bible verse thrown at them over and over until it has lost all meaning?

I don’t know how to explain the beautiful friends who were Jesus for me after I got kicked out of a church two years ago: some were agnostic or Buddhist or Catholic or Baptist. One of them was my pastor friend who played Jesus over 20 years ago.

And as I replied to Cynthia Jeub: