Category: fear | Page 12 | Spiritual Abuse Blogs

A taste of grace

On my way to Missouri last weekend, I heard Hank Hanegraff on the radio responding to a question about suicide:

“First of all, you can’t say that suicide is the unforgivable sin, because no single act is an unforgivable sin. The unforgivable sin is a continual ongoing rejection of forgiveness. And those who refuse forgiveness through Christ will spend eternity separated from his love and grace. Those who sincerely desire forgiveness can be absolutely certain that God will never spurn them…”

I’ve heard that anyone who killed themselves would die with unrepented sin in their lives and go straight to hell. I was taught that blasphemy was the unforgivable sin and was taught that even joking about tongues (kidding around and imitating someone, for instance) might be blasphemy and shouldn’t be risked, because no one knows where God might draw the line and strike down.

Both these concepts show a judgmental, angry God, not an Abba Father. So Hank’s statement really stood out to me, like this:

“First of all, you can’t say that suicide is the unforgivable sin, because no single act is an unforgivable sin. The unforgivable sin is a continual ongoing rejection of forgiveness. And those who refuse forgiveness through Christ will spend eternity separated from his love and grace. Those who sincerely desire forgiveness can be absolutely certain that God will never spurn them...”

This helped me a lot. I don’t have to be afraid that I might make a mistake and then die in a car wreck before I could ask forgiveness of whatever it was and go to hell. I don’t have to be scared that I might accidentally blaspheme the Holy Ghost by shouting “in the flesh” or uttering some syllables in imitation of tongues when it was really just me. I don’t have to run around all day muttering “Forgive me, oh, God, I’m sorry. Forgive me!” in order to insure salvation. Wow, what a relief.

Then I got home, and someone gave me some books. One of the books was The Shack. I’ve been avoiding that one. It was preached against at my former church. Really, really bad book, right up there with Christianity without the Cross. Duh. I should have known by that alone that I should definitely read it! There are some good points in it… including a discussion about how God is often viewed as judgmental and wrathful, but Jesus is looked at as Savior. That people pray to God when they want revenge or expect anger and judgment, and pray to Jesus when they want forgiveness. And as I read that I realized how few times I heard Jesus preached at my former church, unless it was as an image of the ultimate sacrifice and the wrath and judgment of God! Jesus is God in flesh, and Pentecostals are supposed to be Oneness, but the ones I knew still focused on an all-powerful God ready to squash us at any moment, rather than on the Savior who had made a way for us, and done what we couldn’t do!

Anyway, I’m still working through this thing called grace. That was a whole lot to think on in just one week. Grace is kind of going to be a quantum leap for me, since I never was really taught about grace as a child or an adult. But I’m beginning to really like the sound of it!

Standards, Questions

Before I left, I really started studying some things out and realized that my fears were deliberately instilled and completely unfounded. I’ve questioned things that happened in church and certain doctrines for awhile. Until recently, though, I tried to squelch those questions or reason them out. But the answers are pretty obvious- and not in the Pentecostals’ favor.

I’m actually still more conservative than a lot of liberal Pentecostals, and don’t know quite what to do about that yet. I love my hair, and get lots of compliments on it. I actually went and bought MORE skirts after I left the church- but the church I was in, we couldn’t wear denim on church days or outreach days. That left Mondays and Fridays… and my job limits denim on Mondays. So when I rebelled, I went and bought jean skirts! I have no idea if or when I’ll buy any jeans (LOL I have to buy a larger size jeans than skirts- now that’s a deterrent!) or really cut my hair. (I have trimmed it, but not noticeably.) I don’t agree that those things are biblical issues, but they are just a part of who I am. On the other hand, this summer I fully intend to wear short sleeves, and look forward to showing my elbows.

One thing I realized, that had always held me back before, is that people “in the world” don’t generally recognize people as Pentecostal for the way that they dress. So however I dress is really just my preference, and doesn’t prohibit me from dancing or buying a drink or going to a movie… it was ingrained that everyone would know I was Pentecostal and doing something ‘bad’ would be a bad witness, but no one “in the world” cares what I wear or where I go. Now that’s liberating!

I really figured at first I would just leave the conservative churches and “go liberal.” But I’ve been to some of their churches now. So small, not growing… no single men my age… I want to meet and marry someone, and I get so mad at myself for sacrificing something so normal for a church that then inferred that there was something wrong with me because I hadn’t married or “backslid for a man.” That blew my mind. Fornicators were respected more than me because “at least they were normal.”

Anyway, back to the positive. Since leaving, I’ve been free to be happy, not to second guess every move, not to be afraid that I’d make a mistake… I didn’t have many friends left in Pentecost, and though it is good to reconnect with some I wasn’t allowed to talk to in conservative Pentecost, I don’t ever want to go back. Ever read Plato’s “The Cave“? Lots of symbolism, but a pretty good description of exit to me.

https://web.archive.org/web/20230521142750/http://www.historyguide.org/intellect/allegory.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allegory_of_the_Cave

Nothing to say…

Can you believe I have nothing to say today?

I didn’t realize how uptight I was lately, until last night. I heard something outside, went to the door to check what it was, and there was a woman standing on my deck. I’m not a screamer, but I sure squeaked! I’ve been anticipating that someone would show up or call. I don’t like confrontation, so I was leaving the lights off on church nights and hiding in my house. I wouldn’t do anything except during service times on church nights because I was so intimidated that people would “catch” me staying home and either think or say that I was backslid.

#WhyILeft Fundamentalism, Part 4

Editorial Note: The following is reprinted with permission from Eleanor Skelton’s blog. It was originally published on January 13, 2015.

Continued from part 3

Can You meet me in my room?
A place where I feel safe
Where I don’t have to run away
Where I can just be me. – TFK, In My Room

I was like a kid on an adventure the first night in the new apartment.

The second or third night, I called Cynthia B. crying and homesick. She said it was normal and part of growing up.

Until 2012, I never spent a night away from home without my parents. Then I stayed at a friend’s house one weekend in June before leaving.

And I had no idea how to cook.

My first roommate taught me how to make ramen in the microwave.

Dad always worried I’d burn myself on the stove or slice open my finger. Or spill something. I begged them to teach me throughout my teen years. I even planned a dinner when I was 14 and brought Mom the recipes, but Dad didn’t let me.

I started seeing through the cracks, saw how much fear had controlled all of our lives.

I biked to school and rode the bus for the first three months. Then my parents gave me back part of the money so I could buy a car in November 2012.

My second roommate taught me how to live paycheck to paycheck, how to find cheap, gluten-free food when I discovered I was allergic like her.

In April 2013, I found Spiritual Abuse Survivors blog network through a friend and soon after, Homeschoolers Anonymous.

I read about more gentle parenting methods at Permission to Live.

Through reading blogs and talking to friends, I learned it’s not normal to spank your children until they stop crying because crying is “rebellious” and leaving bruises and teaching your child to cover them is also considered abuse.

Most people, even those who grew up in church like me, weren’t spanked until they were 14 and threatened with a belt until age 18.

I started dealing with my dark side, confronting why I self-harmed.

A school counselor helped me through the first year, and my Christian counselor later came out of retirement briefly and my parents and I went to group counseling summer 2013.

Because… my parents did not back down because I left.

The first Sunday after leaving, I went down the street to visit a new church.

My family drove by while I was walking down the sidewalk, rolled down the car windows, and shouted, “Just remember, Bob Jones is still available!”

My dad sent me advertisements for cars he would buy for me if I went to Bob Jones. And a deluge of letters and text messages and emails and phone calls pleading for me to reconsider the first year I was away. My parents dropped by the Science Center on campus while I was tutoring, bringing gifts and asking me to come back.

My anxiety issues spiraled, but my professors understood, giving me extensions.

Heart and brain argued on where to draw the line. I loved my parents, but I wasn’t a child anymore. I didn’t want to have to choose between my family and my adulthood.

Which is why I identified with Tirzah’s story on Homeschoolers Anonymous last week: “Only in my mom’s sad world of jumbled theology would moving out be akin to losing one’s family.”

Everyone told me that my freedom would have a price.

But some days, I ache, wishing my family understood me. Understood my heart.

Understood that I don’t write to condemn them, I write because I’m in pain. I write because I want our relationship to change and heal. I write, pleading with other homeschool parents, “Please, don’t do this to your kids.”

I’m told that blogs are biased, I’m accused of not showing both sides.

So I’m including three open letters between me and my parents and one of the more impersonal ones my sister sent. Quotes can be taken out of context, so here is the entire conversation.

Letter from my parents 11-12-2012
(After the 2012 election. I had voted to legalize marijuana in Colorado after researching studies on the chemical effects of THC.)

My letter 7-9-2013

Mom’s response letter 7-16-2013

Letter from sister 10-27-2013
(Mostly an essay arguing that my actions require the church discipline in Matthew 18.)

Right now, my relationship with my family is inconsistent. We talk sometimes. They help in a pinch, but I fear control creeping in again.

But I know they don’t accept me or approve of me. Nothing seems to count now. Not being self-sufficient, not holding steady jobs, not graduating college this spring. Not my passion for journalism or theater.

It’s like my leaving was an earthquake, and now a canyon lies between us.

But I found others on this side of the canyon, too.

Friends who later asked me to help them escape their own boxes. Professors who encouraged my independence, who had life phase changes of their own in college. My pastor friend in Texas who listened to my story and made me want to try church again.

In July 2013, I told Lissi on G-chat:

You know what?
I realized something yesterday.
I don’t think my family is my family anymore.
I mean, I will always love them, and they are blood.
They are my kin.
But they are not the family I grew up with anymore. That is now changed forever.
My “family” now emotionally is more like Ducky [my second roommate], you, the two Cynthias, other close friends, and my professors.
You all treat me more like family and support me more than my own family does.
I think this realization makes me more okay with emotionally separating from my family, too.
Because at least I have you all. <3

She replied, “Ahhh… the Chosen Family realization.”

Yes, the fight was worth it. Now I am free. Free indeed.

Read Parts One and Two.

Punishment v. Discipline

Someone this weekend discussed the scripture Hebrews 12:6 “For whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, and scourgeth every son whom he receiveth.”

There is a difference between discipline and punishment. God wants to discipline us, not punish us, and certainly not abuse us. Discipline teaches a lesson, while punishment demands condemnation for an action or misdeed. Discipline is positive. Punishment is negative. Abuse is an extreme form of punishment, where the punishment exceeds the crime, is unrelated to (or unassociated with) the crime, or where a person is punished without reason or unreasonably (i.e. because the abuser is angry and needs someone to “take it out on”)- abuse is misuse of punishment.

If something bad happens and we start running through our memories to see if we’ve done wrong, that’s not of God. When He disciplines us, He’ll also make sure we know exactly what we have done, and how to do better next time. There won’t be any vague “You’ve been bad. You are very bad,” condemnatory statements. That’s condemnation. Discipline, however, comes with love.

Romans 8:1 [There is] therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.

If we are condemned, we fear. God doesn’t want us to be afraid of Him! He’s our Father. He loves us. “The fear of the Lord” in the Bible refers to a healthy respect for God. It means to honor Him- not be terrified of Him.

God wants us to learn from mistakes. He disciplines, because discipline leaves hope, faith, and trust intact, and teaches a specific lesson. He disciplines in love. He isn’t waiting to strike us down for being human- for making a mistake or even for a deliberate “sin.” He loves us.