Shame on You!

As stated before, I was a sensitive child.  I grew into a sensitive teen, who became a sensitive adult.  The age-old question arises, was it nature or nurture? Was it biology, or environment?  Obviously, it is impossible to decipher. Regardless of the cause, I was sensitive. That meant that I was quicker to respond to the slightest pressure, as well as being deeply affected by everything that was said to me.  I was highly conscientious, and hyper-aware of disapproval.  At an early age, I learned to read expressions. A raised eyebrow or dirty look was as potent to me as if words had been spoken over me.  Many people raised in abusive environments have this trait as adults.  It comes from a shame-based upbringing, where fear is palpable.

I’ve written past articles about how I was trained to sit on the front row in church by myself at nine months old. In the moments where I had trouble managing that, I was taken out and spanked…thus, instilling in me from an early age a sense of shame. To be sure, the entire environment of the cult is drenched in shame. It functions on shaming the subservient population so that they will give more power to the ruling class. In this case, the congregants are the subservient ones, while the pastors are the elite.

Shame was also prominent at home. Because of the nature of being a preacher’s daughter, we didn’t just go to church a couple times of week and then go about our normal lives. Church was our normal life, and every day revolved around our ‘relationship with God,’ and our ‘service to God.’  As a result, anything you did at home that was remotely ‘sinful’ received a message of shame. For example, normal developmental stages of childhood include such behaviors as lying to get out of trouble, sometimes lying because you don’t even realize it is a lie, taking things that don’t belong to you, etc.  These are behaviors related to learning the boundaries of one’s environment. Yet, reacting with anger when you were told no, or when people invaded your instinctive boundaries was also ‘sinful.’  All of these things were not only punished with a spanking, but also involved a sermon about what God thought about it.

Shame, shame, shame on you! So, not only would you get a spanking for stomping your foot and screaming, when you were two years old, but you would also be told that God was not pleased with your anger, and you would have prayer. You would be led through a prayer of repentance to help you start to understand that God was displeased with your actions as well.  When I received a spanking for anything, even fighting with my sister, there was prayer afterward, to “get right with God.”

As an adult educated about child development and human nature, as well as boundaries, I realize that many of those things were not even remotely sinful, but were my instinctive reactions to being manipulated and controlled. While on the surface this might seem to be a good way to raise kids, every little mistake became a spiritual issue. You were lost eternally if you told a lie or showed anger toward your parents. This created in me a sense that every moment I could be ‘falling into sin.’ As a human being, there seldom was a day that went by, in certain stages of childhood, where I didn’t do something that could be deemed a ‘sin’

Clinical observations: Imagine the shame and the guilt of a child who really wants to please God, but finds herself continually failing.  The anxiety and panic of somehow failing to be perfect can be overwhelming. Gradually, in such an environment, you become ashamed of your own feelings, so you try to numb them. Stuffing those feelings inside creates a low level of depression clinically termed “dysthymia.”  At the root of most anxiety is this deep sense of shame. In the case of this example, you are constantly anxious that you are displeasing to God, that you are not measuring up to your own expectations, and that you are somehow continually missing the mark. Shame is different than guilt. We all feel guilty when we do something wrong. This is a natural feeling that leads us to repentance, change, or reflection. Shame is different. Shame is there because we are a general failure in our own minds. Shame is there because we do not measure up, either to our own standards or to those of others. Shame is not just felt in a moment, concerning one action, but permeates our lives.

As I grew into a teenager, I learned to feel shame about other things in my life. (For example, as humans grow into the teen years, it is normal to have hormones and to begin to feel sexual attraction.  The bodies begin to change, and secondary sexual attributes become apparent.) For a girl raised in this cult environment, there’s a lot of shame attached to these developments. Of course, every human being knows about sexual development, and hormones. However, in the cult environment, by its very nature of listing rules and regulations, the female body becomes a shameful thing. I am not trying to be crude, but girls with natural curves may especially feel a sense of shame attached to their bodies, because the cult ‘rules’ teach females to hide their bodies ‘to avoid others lusting.’  This teaches girls that they are responsible for the thoughts, and even sins of others.  What a shame!

Over-sexualizing the human body causes a lot of shame, and even some twisted thinking. I remember a young man who was always correcting a couple of young ladies in the church. He kept coming up to them and telling them that their skirts were too tight, or that their tops were too tight. Finally, my dad addressed this with him, and told him “If they’re not dressed right I will correct it, as the pastor.” He said “It’s not your place to go around correcting women in the church.” He then found out that the young man was feeling sexually attracted to these girls, and that’s why he was finding fault with them. The problem really was not with the young ladies, but with his own natural attraction to the opposite sex.  (From the viewpoint of mental health, looking at nature and hormonal influences, even he was not at fault…he was made to feel guilty for something that was quite natural.)

I remember once, around the age of fifteen, feeling ‘convicted’ because of a beautiful dress that I had bought, and loved dearly. It looked so pretty, and it was my favorite dress. However, I became aware of a teenage boy looking at my breasts when I was wearing the dress, I felt that I was being ‘sinful’ to wear a dress that was ‘fitted.’ Granted, I was a little more ‘blessed’ than some of the other girls, just by genetics. Because of this, pretty much anything I wore was not going to hide my body, unless I wore a feed sack.

Yet, in retrospect, I was not the only girl so affected.  A friend of mine in the cult, who was extremely sensitive as well, wore loose jackets all of the time, and would never wear a dress with a bodice. Everything was always very baggy, and she looked pretty tacky on purpose. She also walked stoop shouldered to hide her figure. Her body shame was caused by not wanting to be the ’cause’ for a man to sin with lustful thoughts. She also told me, at one point, that she would never wear anything but plain cotton underwear, because anything else made her ‘have bad thoughts.’  She was a teen girl with hormones and body development given by God.  What a shame that she carried around such needless shame!

The shame in the cult never ends. You are shameful because you fail, you are shameful because you are a sexual creature, and you are a shame because the opposite sex is attracted to you. Shame on them as well! How dare they notice that you are female with curves!

Clinical observation: Now that I have studied human development, I realize that all of these things are very normal and not sinful at all. It is very normal for a young male to be attracted to a young female, even noticing her body traits. It is very normal and natural for all young people to occasionally have ‘dirty’ thoughts. These things are not shameful, but are part of the human existence that God created to drive procreation and families. Obviously, people have to learn to curb impulses, but as far as being ashamed of one’s thoughts or hormonal reactions, it is ridiculous to heap this kind of shame on people.

When I was engaged to my first husband, I was still part of this cult. He was very conservative, an ordained minister in the same cult. I remember telling him as we became engaged to “just let me know” if he had any “holiness standards” that we didn’t have, and I would change my dress or behavior to what he preached. He declared that there was nothing like that at all. A month or so later, his parents came to visit, his mother with her scarf around her neck like a turtle neck…and all of a sudden I got a phone call from him, commenting that my necklines were too low. I was frustrated, because I worked very hard to follow all of the modesty ‘rules.’

We spoke at length about this, and he described to me different dresses that I wore where he had noticed that my necklines were too low. I tried on those dresses, bending down in front of the mirror and even bending down in front of my parents to see if they could see anything. They couldn’t. I called him back, trying to figure out what in the world he was talking about. He told me that he saw too much of my neck and it made his mind wander to other areas. We were engaged to be married in two months! He was sexually attracted to me, as hopefully most engaged young men are to their fiances. There is nothing wrong with this, but he felt shame, which he then tried to project onto me, as causing him to have ‘sinful thoughts.’

After we were married, he would criticize practically everything I put on. Finally, frustrated at the guessing game, I asked him one day to just give me a place on my body where he wanted my necklines to be, and I would make sure that they were always there. He told me that my collarbones needed to be covered up, because the base of the neck was very sexual, and caused men to think about other parts that were covered.

As you can imagine, the entire marriage was drenched in shame. (In retrospect, I realize that he had also been soaked in shame growing up, and that ‘shame’ had basically become his middle name.) However, at the time, I only knew that I received constant messages of shame. If I did not want to have sexual relations with him some night, and he wanted it, then I needed to “submit to him as the Bible said.” If I asked him more than a couple of times to change a light bulb, I was a “nagging wife,” and the Bible talked about those!  I was not to disagree with him about anything, because the Bible said to submit to your husband. If he wanted one of the children spanked, even for age-appropriate behaviors, I had to spank them, regardless of my personal feelings about the matter. This not only invaded my boundaries, but caused me to go against my very own conscience. However, it was a shame to have my own thoughts, it was a shame to defy my husband, and it was especially a shame, since he was my pastor, to disagree with him.

Of course, we began raising our children in a constant shower of shame. Early on, he had the three-year-old and five-year-old in their room, giving them a message about hell fire….describing in very explicit sermon terms what hell is like, and telling them over and over “You’re going there. You’re going there. I can’t save you.” All of this happened because they lied. (Now if you know anything about child development, you know that it is very normal for three-year-old and a five-year-old to lie. A three-year-old and a five-year-old may not even be aware that they’re telling a lie, they’re just responding instinctively.) Even though I was horrified at his terrorizing the children, I could not intervene at that time, because of my own deep sense of shame. He was their pastor, he was their father, while I was merely his wife, and was supposed to be submitted to him. Even though I stood in the other room horrified, and crying for the terror my children must be feeling, I did nothing. Shame on me!

During this time, I remember specifically working on my own attitude, because of the resentment and disagreement I felt at the continual abuse and shame that was occurring in our home.  I engaged in a daily Bible study about all the verses concerning ‘submission’ and daily repentance for my inner thoughts that were anything but submissive.  I prayed for him to change, to be a good father, to be a kind husband, but I really felt so much shame regarding my lack of agreement with his behavior, and that was the main focus of my devotionals during that time.  Some very difficult things happened in our lives right after that, and we ended up abruptly moving.

He had admitted viewing pornography, years earlier, and he felt deep shame, but eventually shifted to shaming me for “not forgiving” him when I had difficulty trusting him alone with the computer.  He would be gone at weird hours of the morning and night, often leaving as I was putting the children to bed and not returning until three or four am. He would tell me that he was at the church “studying” or “preparing his radio broadcast.”  I only knew that there was no computer in our home, but in his church office instead.  I had difficulty trusting that his spirituality was so thick during those hours, because his abuse of the family daily grew worse, and his behavior with me was deeply hurtful.

Eventually, when I realized the children were in serious danger, I left. I had been deeply concerned about one of our children, who had suddenly begun to hoard things, as well as obsessively washing his hands every few minutes. Both of our older children had recently regressed to urinating and defecating in their clothing, after being fully potty trained years earlier.  I felt that my children were not going to survive the abuse unscathed, and my first responsibility was to save my children. While debating and praying about what to do, I found another twist. I discovered this ‘godly man’ involved in sexual abuse of our children. I caught him having one of them touch him sexually.  They were innocent, and I was their guardian. I made my plans to leave, and carried them out. It was a logical decision, because I realized even then that I was going to lose everything to shame.  My life as I knew it ended the moment I chose the children over a “man of god“.

It was worse than I had imagined, though, because he then contacted other conservative preachers, and asked them to contact my father.  They proposed to have a meeting, where they would command me as ministers of God to go back to my husband and submit to him. My dad refused to have me endure that treatment, since he had personally witnessed results of beatings my husband had given our children, including one time when he whipped our toddler with a belt while he was naked, (causing him 30 minutes of screaming due to the belt hitting sensitive male parts).

Though I’m thankful for my dad’s protection in that matter, shame was heaped upon me. My ex continued to preach and be promoted even more with the endorsement of ‘big-name’ preachers within the cult, even when he ended up divorced, with only supervised visitation. Meanwhile, I was reported to have been “crazy,” “ungodly,” and a “liar,” an “instrument of Satan used to try to destroy a man of God.”  I was shamed again, and it was almost more than I could bear.  There was no room in the cult for a ‘divorcee’ (which was a term said in a whisper, as if it was a bad word).  An ex-wife to a preacher was even more unheard of!  What a shame!  I was left in disgrace, trying to find my way alone, slogging through the marsh of shame.  Still, I stayed in the cult.

Note: This post is one of the most difficult I have ever written.  There will be sequels in time.  Writing about this is deeply cathartic, but also extremely intimate. Shame has affected my life permanently and there is so much more to tell about the scars it has left. Yet today I am aware of its existence.  Due to the Grace I have found in Jesus Christ, I am no longer a slave to shame.  I am a child of God.  He bears my shame, and he knows me by name.  Every day is a little brighter since I realized he is not, and never was the author of shame!

Broken Dreams

For years I wanted to be a missionary. I was raised in the ’80s. We are the World was one of my favorite songs. Missions work seemed like the ultimate adventure, and still allowed me the opportunity to help others.

When I was first shamed, my pastor knew my desire. He told me several times that he didn’t want me at his church, so maybe I should just go be a missionary. Not knowing what was happening, I decided that missions work was out of the question for me, because I was so messed up I couldn’t even be a good saint, much less someone who could reach out and touch others.

For years after that, I hid the pieces of my dream. I built some other dreams, and tried to follow them instead. And I did. But I wasn’t satisfied.

Dreams mean a lot to people. If someone shares their dream with you, treasure it, protect it, and encourage it. Don’t kill it, crush it, or break it. Dreams are precious things, but they are fragile, after all.

No, I don’t see myself biking across China passing out bibles. But God has a purpose and it isn’t too late to find it. My childhood dream was glorious, but in reality it wasn’t so much about traveling the world as it was about helping others and doing something for God. Maybe its time to brush the dust off of my dreams, to polish them a bit and examine them in the light of experience. Maybe they weren’t so broken, after all. Even if they were, I think I know now Who can fix them.

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Measuring Up

Whatever you did, you did not miss church unless it was very dire. If you were sick, you came to church anyway, unless you were throwing up or had diarrhea. Unless you were contagious you were at church.

When it came to working your job, you had to keep your priorities right. First of all, if you were interviewing for a job and they wanted you to work on a church night or Sunday, you turned that job down and walked away. You needed to put God first. You didn’t participate in anything that would take you away from regular church services.

There were a few exceptions, such as being on your honeymoon. However, many people did not even pay attention to those exceptions. I cannot tell you how many times we had visitors from other United Pentecostal Church or independent churches, people that were on vacation, and even people that were on their honeymoon. You just did not miss church!

Not only did you not miss church, you needed to be there 30 minutes early to pray. If you were not making it a full 30 minutes ahead of time for prayer, you would hear about it, often from the pulpit (in a general rebuke to all).

I remember feeling tremendous guilt, as a mother of four very small children, when I didn’t make it to church the full 30 minutes ahead of time. I felt, whether true or not, like people were judging me for being late. I wasn’t even late, but it felt late because I wasn’t there 30 minutes before church for prayer. However, like most young mothers with small children, it is a huge task to get all those babies ready for church. Then, about the time you think you got them all ready, one of them leaks out of his diaper, or someone gets something on their clothes. Then you have to change that and clean them up. It’s really a chore to get a family to church on time. Also, trying to pray for 30 minutes before church with four kids under the age of 10 can be a real handful. While you’re trying to pray, you get five words out, and a couple of kids are fighting, or they’re talking too loud, or some other childish behavior that’s disturbing others. I found it rather pointless as a mother of four small children to even come early for prayer.

Be that as it may, it was definitely expected. You certainly were not going to have any position of leadership if you were not very faithful with coming early for prayer.

Another thing about that culture was that if you were going to miss service, for whatever reason, you called the pastor and told him ahead of time. If you didn’t, he would be wondering where you were, and you were sure to get a call as he was trying to figure out why you weren’t there. Strangely enough, that is still expected in the church I attend now, although I do not do it.

Many other people find it ridiculous, as we are all adults and can choose to go when we want to and stay home when we want to. It was not that way in the church where I grew up! If you were not in church every service, and early to pray, you had better have a really good reason!

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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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