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Examining Teachings #3: Peculiar And Separate

Peculiar and separate. How many times did some of us hear that we were ‘peculiar people’ and were to be ‘separate’ from others? Are you aware that the meanings given these words often did not reflect their biblical meanings?

Meme from https://twitter.com/naycrumors/status/678038931158540288

Some are proud of it. They consider it to be an honor to be called peculiar and even weird. Some boast about it. It’s a part of a so-called apostolic identity to some. They think their works make them peculiar and separate.

I recall my former pastor giving a wrong definition of the word peculiar, one which meant that we were different, on the line of odd-like. Many times it is linked to appearance, specifically outward standards. But is this what it really means?

I encourage you to look for yourself and see the true meaning. Look up the word that was translated peculiar, periousion, in Titus 2:14. You won’t find what many of us were taught. Just a quick glance at how various Bibles translate the word (EX: ‘a people for his own possession’ or ‘a people that are his very own’) will show the glaring misrepresentation of the meaning by some churches.

As to being separate, I would also encourage you to read passages in the Bible where it speaks about believers being separate from those who are not following Christ. Look at what things are shared. They are actions and things of the heart and not a dress code.

Think about it. In what way did Jesus look different than those living in Israel? How did the apostles stand out in their attire when they were spreading the Gospel? Did people in Ephesus or Corinth exclaim, “Look! I know they must be Christians. Just look at how they are dressed?”

Many trust that doing these things somehow makes them holy or brings holiness to them. This mindset can bring about great division. For instance, if I believe that a wedding ring is wrong to wear and I see you wear one, then I can easily start judging you and your walk with God, even considering you unsaved because I believe not wearing one helps keep me holy. Therefore your wearing one makes you unholy.

These wrong teachings lead many to then go in pursuit of what else they can ‘give up’ for the Lord, what else they can do to appear more holy and righteous. It can be never ending.

Didn’t the Pharisees do the exact same thing? They followed the letter of the law, even added their own long list of rules to help them and others keep God’s law. Yet Jesus said they were a people who served God with their lips, while their hearts were far from him. They were whited sepulchers, looking great on the outside, but inside there were dead bones.

We are not peculiar or separate as some suppose. Our holiness is obtained directly from God and has nothing to do with us. He alone makes us righteous and holy through our faith in Jesus. Trying to live by a set of rules can never, ever make us achieve this holiness. Trying to do so is an exercise in futility. If the law, which was given by God, could not change people and make them holy and righteous, what makes us think we can achieve this though our rules?

Being separate from the world does not mean looking different on the outside or to abstain from things like going to a ball game or movie. It goes to the heart—what makes us who we are—and THIS is what separates believers from those who do not know Christ.

Examining Teachings #1: Drunk In The Spirit?
Examining Teachings #2: Jezebel and Shamefaced
Examining Teachings #3: Peculiar And Separate
Examining Teachings #4: What Must I Do To Be Saved?
Examining Teachings #5: Faith Without Works Is Dead

Expulsion

I was fascinated a year or more ago to realize that Baritmaeus’ parents were afraid of being thrown out of the temple, which would actually be even worse than being thrown out of the United Pentecostal Church–I lost friends and church “family,” but they lived in an area where nearly everyone but the enemy was Jewish. That gave me a new hope in spite of the things that had happened. If people who said Jesus healed someone were afraid of expulsion, Jesus was also rejected by the leaders the law said were anointed. He’s walked where I walk.

Today in Sunday School I came across another verse in John 12:

42 Yet at the same time many even among the leaders believed in him. But because of the Pharisees they would not confess their faith for fear they would be put out of the synagogue; 43 for they loved praise from men more than praise from God.

I’ve heard verse 43 quoted quite a bit in my former church. But never in this context. It wasn’t about being fair or just to people in the world instead of protecting members. It wasn’t about trying to get a better job or more schooling. It was about people going along with the religious leaders of Jesus’ day rather than professing faith in Jesus because they were afraid of expulsion.

It’s a comforting thought to me.

Expulsion II

Bible Reading

Going back through some of my blogs, I realize how much things have changed in a short amount of time. I mentioned a few months ago that I was having trouble with Bible reading, and wanted to respond to that now.

I still don’t tend to pick up a Bible and start reading. My former church was heavily into the BREAD program, where everyone is supposed to read a certain number of chapters (and certain ones, designated by a sheet that’s handed out) every day. That might be part of my resistance to picking up the Bible and reading now, I’m not sure.

What I do know is that it’s becoming easier to read and study the Bible now. Several months ago I started participating in an online Bible study. It obligated me to post 15 verses a day and study them. Fifteen verses isn’t much, so I could do that. I had a few nightmares, but posting online and opening the verses for discussion helped me immensely–I was accountable to read at least some amount, and when I got to a sticky place I could ask questions and/or look for answers to help someone else. I still don’t know how I’d handle Revelation, but even Hebrews is OK. Fewer and fewer verses trigger me, even of those that haven’t been part of the discussion yet.

Everyone’s different. I wanted to read but couldn’t seem to do so without resentment and a flood of bad memories. Everyone’s different, but if a person wants to do something and can’t seem to because of memories, there’s probably a way, or will be, given a little time and patience.

I can’t save my siblings

Editorial Note: The following is reprinted with permission from Eleanor Skelton’s blog. It was originally published on September 1, 2015.

Growing up homeschooled means you get a lot more time with your siblings than other kids. As an older sibling, it also means you have much more responsibility for them.

My parents told me I didn’t need friends, I had my siblings. They also told me I was the example for them, the prototype.

This set the pattern for some unhealthy dynamics. My first counselor after moving out said my dad’s insisting our only friends being immediate family members was incredibly codependent. Libby Anne writes about being an older child instructed to spank her younger siblings.

Parents expecting more of older siblings is typical in secular culture, but not usually with the same connotations like in fundamentalist homeschooling. As the oldest in my family, I heard things like:

A good older sibling sets the example for their younger brothers and sisters. Even if you don’t think they look up to you, they do. They watch your every move, and often, they’ll try to walk in your footsteps. So it’s important that you behave in ways that set a good example for them. Just like we look to Jesus to be our example, that we look to live how he lived and behave like he behaved, our younger siblings often look to us that way, too. — Taken from Christian Teen About

Statements like this put an excessive amount of pressure on older children.

We’re not just expected to protect younger siblings from danger, we’re responsible for their eternal salvation. And fundamentalist parents often manipulate this idea to check rebellion. To squash any behavior they didn’t like.

I couldn’t get angry if Dad was controlling and demanding, because that wasn’t having a meek and quiet spirit. Suffering without complaint was more like Christ, I was told, and a better example.

If I wore a fitted sweater, I was not being an example of modesty to my sister.

When I asked to have a curfew of midnight instead of 7:30 p.m. in college, I was not demonstrating submission to authority for my siblings.

My mom often said: “What will your little brother and sister think? They are always watching you. You know what Jesus said about those who lead little children astray. It would be better for you to have a millstone tied around your neck.”

So when Dad said things that hurt, when the house felt like a cage, when I thought of running away in the middle of the night, I didn’t. Because of my siblings. I was responsible for them.

When I thought my parents punished my brother and sister unfairly, I’d try to anger them into spanking me instead.

Junior year of college, I moved out because my parents said the alternative would be transferring to Bob Jones University. I went back and forth, uncertain what my decision would mean for my brother and sister. I’d be the first to leave home.

I told my professors that I wanted to be a good example for my siblings, that I didn’t want to run away or rebel if it would hurt them, that I’d go to Bob Jones if I had to, even if it killed me.

They told me that I could be a good example by moving out, that I could show my siblings that freedom was possible.

But I worried. I knew I couldn’t live at home anymore, but I still wanted to be a good big sister. That fall, I struggled to set limits as my parents barraged me with visits and phone calls, begging me to reconsider.

A couple of classmates, both named Cynthia, asked me what was wrong after one of our Saturday writers’ group meetings.

I gave my fears a voice. I didn’t understand taking care of yourself before helping other people. Fundamentalism taught me the reverse: don’t be selfish, sacrifice everything for others. Shouldn’t I just put up with my parents’ behavior for the sake of my siblings?

One of the Cynthias looked at me and the other Cynthia. She said, “Are you familiar with New Life Church’s teaching about confronting lies that you’ve believed? You identify the lie, you replace it with truth, and you pray against the power of the lie. You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for your siblings. You’re free to make your own choices.”

They each laid hands on me, praying with me that I’d heal and live in freedom.

I can’t save my siblings. All I can do is be a good human.

My little sister is going to BJU, and my little brother is a serious, quiet teenage boy. I lost contact with them for two years after leaving, so I can’t just speak my truth to them openly.

All I can do is be there and listen.

Why “Not All Homeschoolers” and “No True Christians” responses are silencing dialogue

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CC image courtesy of Flicker, Rebecca Barray.

Editorial Note: The following is reprinted with permission from Eleanor Skelton’s blog. It was originally published on November 1, 2015.

So I’m active in several online communities that discuss homeschooling and spiritual abuse. I also read a lot. Almost daily, I post articles and blog posts that I find interesting.

I’m also Facebook friends with people I met during each of the four times I moved cross-country between Texas and Colorado, people from every church I went to growing up, every place I’ve worked, people who are my fellow homeschool alumni and college classmates. This means that everything I share is being viewed by people all over the human spectrum.

I value this diversity, that my community is no echo chamber. I welcome the opportunity to be challenged and corrected and grow, and I hope my friends do, too.

Yes, there are periodic flame wars in the comments, but I’ve also seen successful dialogue. This is why I want to foster debates and discussion, because I believe that if I limit myself to only people who agree with me, change will never happen.

But a couple of arguments surface over and over.

“Not all homeschoolers were raised in cults.”

“What does abuse in these churches have to do with true Christianity?”

And these rebuttals are killing our discussions. Here’s why. This week, I read an article posted by Relevant magazine on why there’s a problem with saying All Lives Matter. The subtitle read: “There’s a difference between ‘true’ and ‘helpful.'”

Responses like this usually demonstrate a failure to listen. Conversations usually go:

Person 1: “This is what my experience with homeschooling / purity culture was like.”

Person 2: “Good point, but remember, not all homeschoolers were abused / raised in cults.”

Person 1: *awkward silence* (thinks) But I wasn’t talking about all homeschoolers. I was talking about me.

And they feel like you don’t think their story is important.

It’s hard to have these conversations, I think. If you say, “Hey, this happened and it was bad,” or express criticism, you get a lot of “not all homeschoolers” responses. Which is technically true.

But the one doesn’t invalidate the other. Sure, not all homeschoolers were raised in cults. But some were, and problematic and harmful things happened as a result. I’m not against homeschooling as a form of education, and I don’t think it should be banned, but I do think the problems within the movement must be addressed.

“No True Christian” is basically another version of the No True Scotsman fallacy.

Person 1: “This really awful thing happened in my church / to Amish girls / to Pentecostals.”

Angry Defensive Person 1: “Not all Apostolic Pentecostals are like this!”

Angry Defensive Person 2: “What does this have to do with true Christianity?”

These comments are missing the point. Orthodoxy isn’t the issue here, abuse is. And if you’re more concerned with heresy than hurting people, you are contributing to the problem.

And almost every group thinks they are the true believers, the genuine thing. So asking whether or not the Amish are truly Christians is irrelevant. They believe they are. That’s why they live in isolation, making sure they aren’t corrupted by deviating opinions. Other high control religious groups operate similarly.

Just because you might not believe cult members or other denominations are actually Christians doesn’t stop them from identifying as believers. But shouldn’t Christians be more concerned about people who claim to follow their savior perpetrating abuse than whether or not the abusers are heretics?

Let’s be honest here. We use these arguments to protect ourselves. We don’t want to be associated with sexual abuse and hypocrisy, we don’t want our image threatened. So we cry “not all homeschoolers” to defend our educations, and “not true Christians” to defend our core beliefs. We don’t want to think that our community might be wrong, we hide our faces from the wounds, cover our ears and refuse to listen.

And we need to stop.

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