Been a few years....

 It's been a few years since I last posted. And since I no longer have my paid blog site, it's back to the free. Hopefully someone still follows, but whatever the case it's time for me to speak up. 

All those carefully curated posts previously on this blog? Lies, showing a happy, godly family with all the answers and a whole ocean's worth of arrogance and pride. 

In reality? It was a life full of darkness and despair, clawing at what I thought was righteousness and love and good. Never meeting those high standards. Never measuring up. Never good enough. 

And yet, still too much. Too many questions. Too much compassion. Too much refusing to be happy with blind acceptance of whatever was taught from the pulpit. 

I hungered for truth. I didn't find it there.

The first crack in the wall of brainwashing came when Pastor Darwin and his wife Eunice came to ostensibly bring comfort after I had suffered a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, and nearly lost my life in the process. Full of wonder, I shared with them that I was being wheeled to surgery (to have an abortion, no less) I felt no fear. Knowing I'd lost enough blood that I didn't have a readable blood pressure, and that meant I wasn't far from death's door. Knowing I might not be wheeled back alive. I had only the song running through my head "Face to face oh blissful moment! Face to face, to see and know. Face to face with my Redeemer." I found no fear, only a strong, steady comfort. 

Eunice interupted, not even allowing me to finish sharing that moment. I don't recall the exact words anymore, but in my heart it felt like a hammer blow. How dare I be ok with dying! I had a husband and children to take care of. How dare I consider leaving them! She flounced up from her seat, and they soon left. 

As I stared out into the stars that night, tears rolling down my cheeks, I considered. The Bible made it abundantly clear that to be with Christ was gain. It was not something to feared, nor sought out, but held gently, with peace and strength, for the right time. I hadn't been asking to die, or even wanting it in that moment. I'd been content to allow whatever was ordained for me to come to pass. The peace shocked me, and I wanted to share the moment of feeling, for once, I was where I was supposed to be. 

If the leading couple of the church couldn't get something as obvious as the peaceful, even joyous, view of finally resting in the arms of Jesus correct, what else might they be misinterpreting? I began to question. To dig. To face up to the things I had never allowed myself to question in my quest for belonging and love. But truth meant more to me than being accepted. And that started a lengthy, rocky journey that is still in progress today. 

That journey meant facing up to abuse rampant in religion. The way religion was used to control and coerce and harm the helpless, when power meant more to those in control than following their own scripture. It meant facing up to the glaring inconsistencies in the Bible. 

And for me, personally? It meant divorcing my abuser. It meant leaving the church in order to be free to do as religion had taught me so well but failed to live up to... to be kind and compassionate and loving, to care for the weak and helpless and lift them up. In the coming days I will tell parts of my story. I will be naming names. I will be telling truths and asking questions that are uncomfortable. I ask you to sit with them. Take a deep breath. And see if there is any nugget of truth that speaks to your heart. I never ask to be taken at face value. Seek truth. Ask questions. But accept that my story is my own, and while I may have taken a different path it is the right one for me.

A Facebook Meme Rant

Lately I've been seeing this meme posted and shared across FaceBook land. It hit me wrong the first time I saw it, but I'm really good at scrolling on by and not starting drama. The second time I saw it I started to reply, but then chose not to because I'd be writing an epistle. But I kept seeing it, and my heart breaks every time.

First of all, for those who call themselves Christians (and everyone I've seen post this would say they are a Christian I believe), is there any time when we "should" be scared? Terrified, even? Where is our trust in God? There are SO many verses about not being afraid, but believing. Even in bad situations. Even when Christians are being persecuted and killed. God has a greater plan, and evil cannot win in the end.

I am the mother of sons. I am also the mother of daughters. I have been studying and researching trauma and abuse recently, mostly spiritual abuse but it seems quite intertwined with sexual abuse. And what I've been learning has been heartrending. Especially in true life stories, told to me by friends who have lived it.

Statistics show that less than 5% of reported sexual abuse is false. Less than 5%. That's a staggeringly low number. That means 95+% of the time when someone, male or female, says they were abused, they are right.

In contrast, many victims of sexual abuse will never find the courage to say anything about it. Why? Because they won't be believed. They don't have hard evidence. They are traumatized and dissociate, hiding those memories so far back they don't even seem to exist any more. They feel ashamed. They don't know it was wrong, even though it made them feel dirty/yucky/guilty. They feel guilty. They wonder if they asked for it, if they were somehow at fault. In our culture, in our day and age, those are very valid feelings and concerns.

Get this. Only about 30% of sexual abuse is actually reported. That means 70% isn't reported. One of the biggest reasons? The victim fears he or she won't be believed. When only 5% of reports are false... this meme is in actuality very far from reality.

My biggest concern with it? Is that it assumes the son is right, and is always going to be right. Let's face it, our children don't always make the right choices. To predetermine that my son is going to be in the right no matter what is choosing to be blind to the possibility he might be in the wrong. If something comes up, don't automatically assume that it's an unfounded smear campaign. It might be. But chances are, it isn't. Don't just assume that because someone, and sexual abusers can be male or female, seems to be doing everything right, that they are safe. So many victims have been silenced because their abuser was the "godliest man in church" or a church leader... and no one would believe their story if they did find the courage to tell.

Be careful. Tread softly. Walk in truth and compassion. Listen deeply. Care. There is hope, restoration, and healing for victims... and the repentant offender.

(This is not a political article. I understand the controversy raging right now in politics and I am not in a position to comment on that. My goal here is to help those who are true victims gain the confidence that they will be heard and not drug through the mud because they had the courage to speak out, and to gain a compassionate ear for them to speak to.)

(Percentage info taken from https://www.nsopw.gov/(X(1)S(hrrztxcs5nbyiq5wrxfvvnvr))/en-US/Education/FactsStatistics?AspxAutoDetectCookieSupport=1 )

The Saga of a Pharisee

Continued from the Spiritual Abuse article.

My story began as a very small child. I'm not sure when my parents first attended Bill Gothard's seminar, but I don't remember it happening. I don't remember when the books published by his organization crept into our home, or when the concepts began to affect everyday life, but it was there since before I could remember. 

It was subtle.

It was so easy to believe. 

If you just do ____ right, God will reward you. If you raise your children just right according to this formula, you will have bright eyed, obedient, and delightful children. If you memorize enough Scripture, you won't struggle with sin. God needs you to be a good witness for Him at all times. The teachings crept like cancer through our minds and hearts, and this is only touching a few parts of it! 

Among the worst of all, was the quiet and ever present underlying assumption: we have a corner on God others don't. We understand the Bible better than those who don't follow the formulas in utter, unquestioning obedience. There was a constant quest to know more of what was right. The Bible was touted as having all the answers for modern life if you just looked hard enough. We had to continually strive to become more and more holy, and more pleasing to God, in order to be successful.

This journey to more holiness led us deeper, and we began to follow other teachers who for the most part preached similar works-oriented gospel, harping on obedience and pleasing God. We girls started wearing only long dresses or skirts, in an attempt to be "modest" and keep men from lusting after us. Slowly we were hidden away, cut off from people who weren't good enough to associate with us. Oh, it was never said quite that way of course. Just, this or that family was being a bad influence, or were being too permissive with their children, or disagreed theologically somehow. But somehow, we knew we were better than them. We were doing everything right. We were the ones leaving everything behind in order to follow God.

Our lives were motivated by fear, and pride. Fear that if we didn't do everything right, we would fail and not make it to heaven after all. And a subtle, quiet pride that we were on the "in" with pleasing God while others hadn't yet achieved our enlightened state.

If you take a good look at the gospels, you often get a glimpse of a group of people who were the leaders of the Jewish religious life. They spent hours studying the Scriptures. They made sure they were doing everything right, according to the strictest interpretation possible. They knew exactly what God wanted, they were the chosen people, and they had the law and the prophets to back them up. 

Yet they missed God in the flesh, come down to earth. They missed Him so completely that they insisted He be killed. And it's no wonder. He had nothing nice to say to them, or about them. He called them blind, and they were blinded by their strict adherence to their doctrinal interpretation of the law and the prophets. While completely missing the real God in the middle of it all. 

For too many years, I walked the road of the Pharisee as well. I was sure I was doing the best I could to make God happy, to obey Him, and to be a good witness. I tried doing all the right things, in the best way, including killing my natural talents and desires, to please my authorities like god surely said I must. All the time oblivious to the fact that the God I loved had been placed in a neat, tidy little box of explainable divinity, when in reality He is so far beyond our comprehension that there hasn't been a box big enough yet to contain... or explain... Him. 

I was spiritually abused, my teachers and leaders showing me a picture of who they wished God would be, and inhibiting my deepest longings to know the vast, unexplainable Eternal One. I was a spiritual abuser, expecting others to conform to my ideas of what Christianity should look like and act like, with judgement and without much real love. I live with the consequences

every day. Never feeling like I can quite measure up. Always feeling like a failure, a less-than, inadequate, unaccepted. 

While all the time, I am a beloved daughter of the King. He delights in who He created me to be. His holiness is my holiness. I am covered by the blood, accepted, perfect. I have found forgiveness, and a joy that my own efforts to make myself joyful never quite managed. It's beautiful. 

And I am free.

Spiritual Abuse--An Overview

Maybe you've seen me mention spiritual abuse a couple of times lately on this blog, and are wondering what in the world I'm talking about. In today's world, we're free to talk about physical abuse, and we all understand it's wrong. Or, at least I hope we do. Sexual abuse is a hot topic. But spiritual abuse... we reel at that idea. How does one take something spiritual, and thus generally accepted as good, and add abuse to it? Don't those two words represent opposing ideology?

They should. They really should. Far too often, though, they become melded into a devastating whole.

Some people will jump on this bandwagon as victims and ride it for all it's worth. Some people will refuse to acknowledge that they may be victims... or abusers... or both. A few will carefully scrutinize this concept, accept their situation, and seek healing and hope. For there is healing and hope in honesty and facing up to reality instead of hiding from it.

So, what is spiritual abuse?

Maybe we should ask, what is abuse?

The dictionary defines abuse a couple of different ways: 1. to use something to bad effect or for a bad purpose; 2. to treat a person or an animal with cruelty or violence, especially regularly or repeatedly; and 3. speaking in an insulting and offensive way to or about someone.

I see spiritual abuse checking off all those definitions. But it's subtle, elusive, and smothered in Bible verses handpicked for the occasion. Spiritual abuse encompasses so much it's hard to pin down a definition to a reasonable sentence. To attempt the impossible though, it's basically coming between someone and God, and using God to control another person's life. It uses someone's desire to please God or fear of Him to squelch the person He created them to be. It can be very cruel, and occasionally violent, especially to the helpless, and when it is so, it is usually regular and repeated. And it causes many people to speak insultingly of and to others.

Before you walk away and say you don't know what I'm talking about, you or your fellow church members would never do such a thing, stop a little longer.

Do you see the people in your church/fellowship/community as better, healthier, happier, and having more of God's revelation of His word than the church down the street, or someone you might randomly meet somewhere? Do you feel you stick to His Word in obedience when most others on the "outside" don't? Do you feel you have it all together, and mostly figured out what a good Christian life consists of? Then, maybe you could stop to consider whether you are walking the walk of the Pharisees or the publican.

...to be continued, in the Saga of a Pharisee.