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My story began a really long time ago with two grandmothers influenced by Bro. Witherspoon and Bro. Fresh and a very young S.G. Norris and other early Oneness preachers. One grandmother was ‘shouting her hair down’ in a Methodist church prior to Oneness and the other came into Oneness with my great grandmother. No grandfathers in the picture –they all died really young.

My great grandmother died in the parking lot of a Oneness camp meeting; she had quit taking her heart medicine because this was a ‘healing’ camp meeting. My very young mother found her dead in the car. One of my grandmothers died in a car/train accident on her way to VBS –it was two blocks away and I remember all the kids (I was ten) going to the altar to pray. My grandma and my best friend (a cousin just a couple of weeks older than me) were two who died in the accident. I still mourn the loss after 50 years.

So I am 3rd or 4th generation Oneness before there even was an ALJC (Assemblies of the Lord Jesus Christ) or UPC (United Pentecostal Church) and of course my dad was a preacher, as were some of his brothers. By the time I got here, it was ALJC for us, but we had friends in the PA of W (Pentecostal Assemblies of the World) and some UPC, though in my area the ALJC and UPC were pretty strong rivals. We were the less strict but still plenty weird.

At one time, the Rambos went to our church and Bucky was our children’s orchestra leader (I played the cymbals 🙂 ) I remember Dottie’s song ‘Come Spring’ was written for my grandmother or dedicated to her. Reba and I were fast friends. I remember Reba contracted meningitis and almost dying. They left around that time and became famous but of course were ‘lost’ 🙂 We absolutely loved Dottie’s singing –especially LAZARUS 🙂 . As a teenager, I sang a lot of her songs at district youth and fellowship meetings.

I grew up having a rare haircut, sometimes wearing pants and my mom even sold Avon at one time and put lipstick on both of us then- almost rubbed my lips raw getting it off before my dad came home LOL. I wore miniskirts as a teenager and had a page boy haircut and wore powder and mascara with no real consequences but I did not get ‘saved’ until I was 18 and in Bible school (ABI- Apostolic Bible Institute).

I went to Bible school because it was my mother’s dream to go and she never had the chance (I just wanted to get away 🙂 .) On my application to Bible school, I remember writing –“I am coming to find out if there is a God and if there is, I will serve him”. I am sure S.G. Norris (then a much older man) got a kick out of that.

I was miserable at Bbible school –still had a page boy haircut and wore ‘natural’ makeup, but felt like I was the only sinner among a bunch of young saints (this is too funny now but then I took it very seriously). I cried nightly and begged a close by friend of the family to come and take me home.

Of course, he called my parents and they called my preacher uncles who called S.G, and without me knowing, the whole Bible school began around the clock prayer and fasting. S.G. called me into his office and told me his ‘story’ of how he received the Holy Ghost –if anyone is interested let me know–it was pretty cool. I had been begging God to speak in tongues ever since I was baptized at eight years old.

Anyway, after a week of the prayer and fasting, I skipped church to play board games with other less spiritual girls in the dorm and got conned into going to the prayer room where I was absolutely struck with tongues and a very personal interpretation and spoke in tongues for over an hour. It was real and changed my life.

I never did really ‘belong’ at ABI but I did get ‘saved’ and made some close friends (some still in church and some not) and then like most of the kids, I found my husband –we all called the school Apostolic Bridal Institute.

My husband was also 3rd generation Oneness but he had been AOG until he was twelve and then his parents were finally won back when he and his brothers went to a Oneness church camp with his preacher uncle and all three received the Holy Ghost and came home wanting to change to UPC. We were a good match –still are –it will be 45 years this December.

OK, that is all the good stuff, it kind of goes down hill from there, but it took me 40 years to finally say enough! I will start the rest of the story later. Thanks for listening –this might just be cathartic.  🙂

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One of the many unspoken rules of the UPC church is that if you leave the church you leave your friends behind. That has been harder to deal with than I thought it would be.

The friends I had in the church weren’t just my friends because we went to the same church. I liked them because I enjoyed being with them (most of them). They were people that were fun, and interesting, all sorts of personalities etc. I probably would have liked them regardless of where I met them…

Once you leave nothing else matters. How well you got along, commonalities you shared, bonds that were made were all of no consequence. You no longer attend church here thus you are no longer friends.

Were the friendships we shared so fragile, that insignificant that since I left they just dissipate? I left and now I don’t exist?

Now I wish we had met at the YMCA….

Amazing to me how much they talk about reaching the lost and preach about people matter to God but then turn around and make people feel as though they don’t matter at all.

I don’t ever want to make anyone feel as though they don’t matter.

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Ok, here goes our United Pentecostal Church story.

In the beginning, newly out of Bible school and desperately wanting to work for God, we had several ‘offers’ to come help churches. We accepted one in Ohio but my husbands District Super uncle convinced us to come to another state and work the campground that summer–he would ‘make it worth our while’. Sounded like fun–but it wasn’t.

I was six months married and pregnant but didn’t know it. I was exhausted but the uncle demanded I get up each morning and help clean and prepare the campground; I literally dragged myself through the tasks assigned, becoming more and more exhausted, but still not knowing it was because I was pregnant and should be resting.

I worked blisters on my hands, had a sunburn, and at one point was stung multiple times by a nest of ‘mud dauber’ wasps flying up my skirt while cleaning a bathroom. After a month, I miscarried on the 4th of July. I was left alone in a strange state, strange city, strange hospital, to watch the fireworks in tears from my hospital bed. My very young inexperienced husband was still ‘working the camp’ as demanded by his uncle.

When I got back to the camp, I couldn’t call my parents because the uncle had a block on his phone (this was before cell phones). It was at least a week before I could let my mother know and by then I was very sick. Our conversation was in front of the uncle and aunt so I was very limited on what I felt comfortable saying and my parents had no idea what was really going on.

I would go sit in a very hot car with all the windows up trying to get warm (in this state small children and dogs died when forgotten in locked up cars) but nothing made me warm. The uncle’s wife demanded I do my husband’s laundry, so I literally dragged myself to the laundry room.

She washed uncle’s white shirts after I finished and they came out with ink on them. She went into a rage and blamed me even though NONE of my husband’s clothing had any ink on it. She demanded I ‘clean’ the washer and dryer of all the ink. I waited until everyone was gone and then actually crawled to the laundry and cleaned the machines.

I felt very alone and desperate. I ended up back in the hospital with an infection and finally got some medication to begin healing. When camp ended, I still wasn’t completely well and we got an offer from a church a few hours away to come help.

The uncle gave us $100.00 for our summer at camp and ‘very generously’ another $100.00 that he said was ‘under the table’, oh and a bag of the disgusting yellow rice we had been eating all summer, along with a pound of butter.

We couldn’t leave fast enough! (an aside) The uncle had adorable twin two year old daughters –he played teasingly with them until he was tired of it and then if they didn’t stop immediately, he beat them with a belt. I cried as much as they did. Neither is in church today. He is dead. The aunt is raising one of their sons; I don’t think they ever married or had other children.

So, the new town was really awesome. The pastor seemed like a nice guy. The pastor’s wife was weird –like the little girl with the curl, when she was nice she was very nice and when she was bad she was TERRIBLE. I was still sick, tired and thin.

They helped us find a roach infested apartment above a garage for around $40.00 a month. I had NO experience with roaches or palmetto bugs and nightly sprayed a ring of bug killer around our bed, blessedly unaware that these things could fly. There was no air conditioning or heat. We had a fan in summer and bought a kerosene heater when winter came.

We both found jobs. Our apartment was painted black and dark purple by the former hippie inhabitants, so the pastor’s wife loaned us money to buy paint to repaint it. We were expected to and did pay 10% tithes and 5% offerings.

I had a car accident and totaled our car. The pastor convinced us that the rapture would happen very soon, so we should buy a van to do church work (we would never have to pay it all off because of the rapture. Oh how young and ridiculously dumb we were.

We worked in the church preparing it and the Sunday school activities and canvassing for children to bring to Sunday school every Saturday pretty much all day, but we were happily married newlyweds and it really was fun a lot of the time. We picked up people for church every church service and a host of kids on Sunday mornings.

The church people seemed to like us a lot and were kind, inviting us to dinner or to go out to eat. We worked really hard and at one time actually had 39 kids in our VW van on a Sunday morning!

The pastor’s wife varied between loving the church people and chasing them off with her sharp tongue. Looking back, I am pretty sure she was manic/depressive but that was before this was such a well known condition. After a couple of years, she had really worn us down and we decided to talk to the pastor; she came in at the end of the talk, and realizing it was likely about her, she attacked. She told me I had a mental problem and needed ‘help’.

I was again devastated and my now getting older and wiser husband decided it might be time to move on. We bought a tiny camper trailer (you could almost touch all walls when standing in the middle of it hahaha). We lived in it while we saved enough money to leave –of course still religiously paying our 15% to the church each week and continuing to donate all our free time.

A lot more happened at this church but I would have to write a book to cover it all. The Sunday before we left, the pastor’s wife organized a ‘going away’ party. Our gift was a painting of the Bible with Acts 2:38 highlighted, painted by an old Oneness preacher, Bro. Hudson I think, in the congregation. We eventually donated it to a Oneness church. It was only 1973 and we had no idea what we would eventually live through 🙂 ; our ideals and altruistic desires were still firmly in place, as they would be for years to come.

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I had a dream last night that I was back in a church like the unhealthy ones I’ve been part of. In the dream, though I didn’t really know anyone, I was asked to “do” a banquet–big decorations, some of the food, all of the set up. In my dream I accepted because I was being chosen to minister. As I was decorating, other were coming to interrupt, telling me they needed things. I told them I had to complete my tasks. (The things they were asking for were petty and whiny, so I still don’t have a problem with having said no.) I drug stuff all over the place, decorated everything, cooked three dishes, got the plates and food ready to be served… and no one would eat. The pastor’s wife then announced that she had prepared individual plates of food already, which would be of more interest. I felt like I’d failed at ministering to everyone because they wouldn’t eat.

When I woke up, I realized something that it’s taken nearly 30 years for me to realize. NEVER, in all the times I was asked to serve in any capacity that was beyond what should have been asked of me or was beyond my talent, was I being looked at for ministry (which is what I’d always hoped, that I’d somehow become part of the inner circle). Ministry at these churches was considered being a pastor, pastor’s wife, church leader, singer, musician, or great speaker. I was (and never would become) any of those.

They didn’t choose me for ministry because there were plenty of people to speak and sing and do all of those things. Those came with position and recognition and praise and were far more sought after. Besides, others got a better emotional response from people. They were respected more highly for ‘letting the Holy Ghost move through them so powerfully.’ I wasn’t good at evoking emotional responses from others, but even when I did, they said it wasn’t enough. Instead, they asked me to do the ‘dirty work’, the behind the scenes, often overwhelming tasks that they either didn’t want to do or wanted to show me or others they could do better, whether I was any good at them or not. It never once occurred to me that whether anyone said it or not, I was letting the Holy Ghost work through me every time I bent over backwards trying to do everything that was asked of me with a right attitude, and every time I did these things because I loved those I was serving.

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I’ve been to churches that took the spiritual gifts assessments since leaving my unhealthy group, and I’ve run away fast. I don’t want them to know that one of my gifts is giving. I don’t want them to see that I’m a responsible, ethical, independent person who will do way more than any one person should be asked, just to get a job done and just to ‘help’. I know what happens when the wrong people find this out, and I know in the end I feel wrung out and walked over… and too often put down and insulted because I either ‘didn’t do enough’ or didn’t do ‘it’ right.

The thing is, no gift and no ministry should be about someone tagging you to do EVERYTHING. No gift or ministry should leave you burned out and used up. Gifts and ministries are meant to be used cooperatively with others’ gifts and ministries and should leave all of you feeling energized and complete, even if you are exhausted (which sometimes does happen in a good way).

Still, my former church had it wrong. They would say of singers and speakers that ‘the Holy Ghost move through them powerfully’ when the crowd had an emotional response and overlooked those whom the Holy Ghost moved through powerfully, not for a few minutes but for hours and days as they poured themselves into their tasks and into others because they loved God and others or even just because they were willing.

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Will I ever lose the fear of being judged by that group?

This is a question that is often asked when a person leaves an unhealthy church. Often it is in relation to the various standards that are taught.

If you have recently left, you shouldn’t be tough on yourself in this area. This will subside and should stop over time if you sort through the various issues and become confident in what the Bible truly teaches about them.

I shouldn’t look for the approval of man but even though I know in my heart what I am doing is not wrong, why do I yet feel this way? I don’t understand it!

Unhealthy churches are often performance based. The intensity varies from church to church and is dependent upon the leadership and to an extent the members. Your acceptance is based upon your performance. How you view yourself is also based upon how well you follow the list of rules. Many of us learned to judge others while in our group, or at least looked to see if they were lining up with all the rules. Many of us soon learned that others would look at us and judge us by the outward appearance.

It is not abnormal to have struggles in this area after leaving. You know people are going to look at you and judge you because of what you witnessed while you were there. Most people do care what others think of them, especially those close.

Here is what is important, as far as I am concerned: that you believe what you are doing does not violate what is shown in scripture. As a believer, you answer to God for these things. If your heart does not condemn you in what you allow, because you see the truth of the matter in the Bible, then the opinions of people don’t mean a thing. They are not your judge.

How does God see you? This is what matters. Fortunately, God will not judge you by what others think or teach.

As you get these things deeper into your heart, and as your relationship with Jesus grows stronger and more distance is placed between you and your former church, they should no longer continue to disturb you. You may still feel hurt for awhile if someone judges you or looks you up and down disapprovingly, but you won’t go around worried that others will see you.

I am still in a UPC church and people there clearly judge me, even shun me because I don’t see anything wrong with certain standards. This is hard!

It’s more difficult to break from this while one is continually exposed to it, especially in a situation where people in the church shun you. You are continually reminded of their disdain and disapproval and are regularly subjecting yourself to the performance based atmosphere. While not impossible, it will be much harder for you to break from this mindset while you are yet attending such a church.

Something that may help you as you come to terms with it all is to think about this: What is the worst thing that could happen if someone from the church sees you wearing (whatever) or doing (whatever)?

What can their words actually do? When you think about it, for most situations, not very much can happen other than hurt feelings.

Remember the mindset that causes their reactions and that should help you to process any negativism, though it doesn’t make the rejection feel better.

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