Category: recovery | Page 27 | Spiritual Abuse Blogs

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:

The Lighthouse Girl

Editorial Note: The following is reprinted with permission from Eleanor Skelton’s blog. It was originally published on June 17, 2014.

There was once was a little girl, raised in the Village.

The Village was a utopia, walled off for protection and insulated from the world. Even the families in the girl’s section of the Village did not see each other very often, but lived peaceably, like hermits, in accordance with the Code.

When the girl grew to be a maiden, sometimes she crept through cracks in the wall and explored the countryside. She gradually even made friends with the woodland folk, discovering new ballads and gypsy dances banned in the Village.

One day, the elders of the Village told the girl that absolute obedience was the only way to honor her parents and the Code. But the girl had dreams, and this meant soul death.

So one night the girl left the Village forever.

Her friends on the outside helped her travel to the coast, where she built a lighthouse with bricks and mortar and timber they brought. That section of the coast was so rugged that the deaths on its rocks were legend. Other attempts to build lighthouses had not survived.

The girl maintained it for years, weathering many storms. Her friends visited often to encourage her and the prosperity of the lighthouse, but sometimes she was lonely. Her friends started to call her Lighthouse, shortened to Light.

One friend was a girl-pirate who was once raised in the Village like her, but they had met beyond the walls.

Another village girl had become a spy for a local Baron. She took shelter in the lighthouse and lived with Light for many moons.

All three of them knew an older girl who escaped a failed utopia several years before. This girl had been cursed by her own Elders and turned into a mermaid, forever chained to the waves and spume. She shared the birth name of the girl-pirate.

The friends often wondered about their kinsmen in the Village, and hoped someday many more could be free from the well-meaning tyranny of the Elders. The four swore a solemn pact against injustice in the land.

A cyclone rolled across the waters one night, spewing hailstones like vomit. The lighthouse girl manned the tower, keeping the light alive. In her telescope, she spied the signal of a small boat foundering on the waves. Two passengers, one with gold hair and one with the hair of a raven, rowed and bailed water to no avail.

Despite the peril, the three friends, followed by the mermaid, took a larger ship. They rode out toward the lost girls, just before their rowboat crashed against the rocks.

Light, the girl-pirate, the spy, and the mermaid embraced the lost girls on the beach and welcomed them to safety. Light helped them to warm inside by the fire and dry their clothes. The lost girls told the friends that they fled another section of the Village, inspired by their love for one another, because their Elders had banned their friendship.

The four friends all knew the value of friendship, and told the lost girls to stay together, no matter what the Elders said, and to explore their newfound freedom.

Soon the spy-girl left on a clandestine mission for the Baron, and couldn’t send letters to the lighthouse girl.

The girl-pirate took the lost girls rafting, teaching them how to navigate currents and giving them sea legs.

Light helped the lost girls find a trade in town with a basket-weaver, but their spirits were wild and young, and they joined a band of traveling gypsies, squandering their earnings on trinkets.

Midsummer gales brewed out in the gulf, and the lighthouse was empty again except for Light. She was lonely once more, yearning for her old friends and for new refugees from the Village. She often visited the mermaid down in the tidal pool on calm, starlit evenings to plan new adventures.

One day, the girl-pirate came to the lighthouse girl and said she couldn’t stay on land anymore. She was bound for faraway oceans and adventures far from the Village.

Light hugged the pirate and cried. They walked down to the docks together.

Light told the girl-pirate how much she had learned from her. She knew how to tie sailor’s knots. She could brew herbal mushroom tea from the Orient. She could debate the Elders now if they confronted her and told her to tear down the lighthouse.

Deep in her heart, Light knew how much the pirate yearned for the sea, how the land was ebbing away at her friend’s spirit.

The lighthouse girl said the girl-pirate needed to sail. It was time. And she understood.

The Butterfly Circus

The Butterfly Circus, released in August 2009, is an inspiring 22.5 minute short film that is supposed to be made into a full-length motion picture, though I haven’t heard anything about their progress in years. People who have been hurt in unhealthy churches should be able to take home something from this film that will lift their spirits.

“At the height of the Great Depression, the showman of a renowned circus discovers a man without limbs being exploited at a carnival sideshow, but after an intriguing encounter with the showman he becomes driven to hope against everything he has ever believed.”

You may watch the entire film for free on Vimeo.