Tag: IFB

family, My Story

Modesty: it doesnt mean what you think it means

Andi

You keep using that word. I don’t think it means what you think it means.

This is what I think when I hear people talking about modesty. Because more often than not, what they mean is how much of a woman’s body is covered by her clothing. They love to quote scripture here too. 1 Timothy 2 is a common one. And sometimes will detail a list of attire they deam appropriate. They love to quote the Proverbs 31 woman as being covered in fine linens to mean she’s modestly dressed because she’s covered. But let’s look at the verses a little more deeply, avoid applying our own perceptions to them, and see what conclusions we come to.

Before we get started, I’m listing here the Miriam Webster 1828 Dictionary definition of modest.

MOD’EST, adjective [Latin modestus, from modus, a limit.]

1. Properly, restrained by a sense of propriety; hence, not forward or bold; not presumptuous or arrogant; not boastful; as a modest youth; a modest man.

2. Not bold or forward; as a modest maid.

3. Not loose; not lewd.

4. Moderate; not excessive or extreme; not extravagant; as a modest request; modest joy; a modest computation.

Notice how only one of these definitions could even potentially be applied to dress and appearance. In fact its base word it is derived from is defined as a limit.

I find it is very important when reading spiritual texts is to understand both the time in which it was written, and the language it was written in. Having a good handle on the language you are reading it in is also a big help.

First let’s look at the verses in 1 Timothy that are so often used. I’m going to use the KJV as its probably the one you heard as a kid or the person arguing for this would use.

In like manner also, that women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety; not with broided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array; But (which becometh women professing godliness) with good works.
1 Timothy 2:9-10 KJV

Now, just for a comparison, read these same verses but in the Amplified version.

Likewise, I want women to adorn themselves modestly and appropriately and discreetly in proper clothing, not with [elaborately] braided hair and gold or pearls or expensive clothes, but instead adorned by good deeds [helping others], as is proper for women who profess to worship God.
1 TIMOTHY 2:9‭-‬10 AMP

In this instance, κοσμίῳ is the Greek word used in 1 Timothy. Its defined as well arranged, seemly, modest. Interestingly when I stuck this in Google translate, which is using modern day Greek, it came out as cosmic.

Now, let’s take a look at Proverbs 31: 21-22 again in both the KJV and AMP simply for comparison.

KJV

She is not afraid of the snow for her household: for all her household are clothed with scarlet. She maketh herself coverings of tapestry; her clothing is silk and purple.

AMP

She does not fear the snow for her household, For all in her household are clothed in [expensive] scarlet [wool]. She makes for herself coverlets, cushions, and rugs of tapestry. Her clothing is linen, pure and fine, and purple [wool].

And lastly this piece of Proverbs that describes a woman with the attire of an harlot, and I have heard used to line out what a harlot does look like and how not to look like one. This is Porverbs 7:10-12

KJV

And, behold, there met him a woman with the attire of an harlot, and subtil of heart. (She is loud and stubborn; her feet abide not in her house: Now is she without, now in the streets, and lieth in wait at every corner.)

AMP

And there a woman met him, Dressed as a prostitute and sly and cunning of heart. She was boisterous and rebellious; She would not stay at home. At times she was in the streets, at times in the market places, Lurking and setting her ambush at every corner.

Other verses describing the “evil woman” or an “unfaithful woman” don’t give us an image of her appearance or attire. They are filled with descriptions of her sharp tongue, her smooth words, and inappropriate behaviors. As though our actions are more vital than our clothing.

Now let’s go back to the top, to Timothy and the verse that uses the specific word, modest. Isn’t it interesting that the majority of those verses are about elaborate and expensive clothing? It says, costly array. This verse states we should wear modest apparel, not gold plated and expensive, but rather clothe ourselves with good works. We obviously cannot literally cover ourselves with good works, but a point was being made here. Are you more worried about having nice things than you are about caring for your fellow human? Do you greedily spend all your money on gold necklaces and ignore the hungry child? This is what was happening in the early church. In the Amplified version it says it is proper for people who worship God to help others. So according to the 1 Timothy passage, our selfishness is the issue, not how much skin is showing. Modest means moderate, not excessive or extreme, and this is the exact meaning of the word in this verse.

Now the passage in Proverbs 31, I think is pretty straightforward, but nonetheless, I’ll go over it. This woman is first off, not a real woman. But she is held as the pinnacle of godly womanhood. She is indeed someone impressive. She’s intelligent, financially prudent, crafty, businesslike, and loving. But the verses discussing how her children are warm in winter and her family can afford expensive clothing because of her wise investments has nothing to do with how much that expensive clothing covered her body. These verses are expressing her families prosperity more than anything.

Now the verses from Proverbs 7 say to beware a woman with the attire of an harlot. But what is the attire of an harlot? If this had been written today, you might describe a woman with lots of makeup, short tight skirts, maybe fishnet tights. But surprisingly clothing was not the same when this was written as it is now. So if trends and styles have been changing continuously then how are we to know what the attire of a harlot is and how do we avoid it? First of all, based on every other verse describing bad women, your actions and words play much more into your appearance than you think. This woman speaks softly and tempts the young man to come home with her. She is unfaithful to her husband, and lays in wait at every corner. Secondly this verse suggests there was a specific way harlots dressed and if I said the word prostitute, you know a specific image came to your head. So I think society plays a piece in this idea of harlots attire.

Another thing to consider is to take a look at our biology. Every part of our bodies has a function, even parts we have sexualized. Woman’s breasts can be sexual, but that is not their primary purpose. They are meant to produce milk to feed our young, exactly like every other mammal on earth. Elephants don’t cover to breastfeed. Our necks house our esophagus and throat. Our feet hold us up when we stand and our toes keep us balanced. But yet some people are aroused by neck biting, and foot fetishes are a very real thing. We cannot cover every piece of the body that arouses somebody or we’d all be walking around in body bags. The only body part designed and meant for sex are the sexual organs, and even they serve a purpose to reproduce as well. So we can’t make modesty rules based off of potentially being considered sexual. Beside the fact that this is a big variant, we can’t cater to everyone. And nowhere does the Bible say, woman be sure not to tempt that random man at the store, it says men keep better control of your eyes.

I know, I know they use the verse about not causing a brother to stumble, but I also refer you back to we’d be walking around in body bags. And that verse discusses being mindful of a friends struggles and helping them as they heal and grow. That random man isn’t my friend and I’m not responsible for his growth, he is. Plus, in the state of him growing, he will eventually not be tempted and be able to control his eyes. I am not to remove temptation from his path, whatever his temptation may be, he is learning to control himself.

Additionally, what does this teach girls and women? If we are to dress in such a way as to not cause any man, anywhere, to stumble or look at us lustfully, what are girls learning? To start with, this is impossible, you cannot keep every man ever from looking at you and thinking, “Dang, I’d like to tap that” no matter how you dress. Go back again to, we’d have to be walking around in body bags. But this is placing the personal growth and responsibility of all men and boys on women, not on the men it belongs with. It is no woman’s duty to keep another man from sinning. That is his duty. We are each responsible for our own actions, it is no one else’s, only ours. It is degrading and insulting to inappropriately place that duty on the shoulders of girls.

This is also degrading to our men and boys. You are teaching them they have no control, no limits. You are telling them they are barbaric and stupid, while simultaneously telling them they are in charge and in control of women. If you say it enough, they will believe it. You are teaching them if they see a scantily clad woman in the mall, they aren’t able to avert their eyes and wrangle their thoughts. You are teaching them it’s the woman’s fault, not theirs.

Which leads directly into, this nonsense feeds rape culture. From youth these boys are being taught they are not at fault, that a womans attire can literally make them insane. If they are not to blame when they have lustful thoughts, its only two steps further to say, it’s not their fault they raped a woman, because she was wearing a low cut blouse. Case after case after case have proven this is horse manure. Men and women have been assaulted in pajamas, robes, floor length pants and long sleeve shirts. It is never what they were wearing, it is always because a disgusting person attacked them. But we’ve also seen case after case of assault victims coming forward and their rapist is defended and they are demonized. Sadly, we see this a lot in the IFB group. Satan is not attacking your pastor, this is not spiritual warfare. Your pastor assaulted teen girls and he is a bad person. Period. End.

To say the idea of modest dress being disproportionately applied to women didn’t effect my childhood would be the biggest lie I ever told. I sometimes look at old pics and just cringe by how awful I was dressed. I’d be told they didn’t want me to dress frumpy, they wanted me to dressed tastefully. That was a lie. I looked like a boat.

I started pushing back fairly early, so I had to go back pretty far to find a picture that exemplified what I mean by good gracious I looked terrible.

You (and by you here I mean women and girls) couldn’t wear a shirt more than three (some places it was two) finger widths below your collarbone. Have you ever measured that? Its remarkably high, much higher than the average shirt comes. So shirts under shirts were incredibly common. Pants were out of the question. They were seductive and clung to the body exposing the curves of your female form. If you needed to do a physically strenuous activity in which a skirt would be indecent, you were provided with culottes. Should you be unaware what a culotte is, it is a knee length overly poofy legged split skirt. Historically I think they were created for women during the Victorian era to remain ladylike but be able to ride a horse (don’t quote me on that though). Some of these were pleated and so full in the legs you couldn’t tell they were culottes. Those were ideal.

Shirts were never to be sleeveless, some people wouldn’t allow cap sleeve shirts either. Shoulders and armpits were not to be shown, and an exposed bra strap was indecent. Your shirt also needed to be long enough that even with your arms raised over your head, it still covered the waistband of your skirt or culottes. Skirts varied a small bit. Some people said a skirt had to come to the knee, some specified that a skirt had to come to the knee while sitting, and others still dictated that your skirt had to cover your knees while sitting. Even the type of fabric of your clothing was regulated. Clingy fabrics like spandex blends were not allowed as they tended to stretch and hug the body. Your clothes had to be loose fitting and not show any form of your body. Girls were allowed to wear jewelry but your leadership could deny you the ability to wear something they deemed “too gawdy”. Only one ear piercing, no brightly colored makeup, no unnaturally colored hair, small necklaces only and one or two bracelets.

Boys had dress codes too but they were much shorter than for the girls. Boys were also not allowed to wear sleeveless shirts. They weren’t allowed to wear jewelry except for a watch and the men allowed a wedding band. Boys and Men were also not permitted to wear shorts. I’m honestly not sure of the reason for this. The girls could show their calves, but the boys could not.

Of course no outlandish hairstyles or colors. Neat hair dos. Clean and well kept clothes and hair were mandatory. Somehow God cared about your hair being brushed.

For how much I heard Samuel’s anointing David because, “God does not look on the outward appearance because God sees the heart” preached, I remember God caring a lot about how I looked. To dress modestly was pleasing to God. In explanation of why God cared so much when he looks on the heart, was because we were to be separate from the world in every way. Someone should be able to look at us and know we were Christian. God also cared because he loved all his children and didn’t want one of them to cause another to sin. In the case of looking different we definitely succeeded. Even the boys and men stuck out in a crowd usually. The women looked odd and frumpy in their loose shirts and long skirts and the men looked like struggling bussinessmen in their tucked in collared shirts and loose legged high waisted khaki pants. Especially in a group, we stuck out. As to not causing someone to sin, I think I’ve covered satisfactorily.

After I left the church I went through a phase of awkwardness. I never went through the discovery teenage phase because I hadn’t been permitted to. I had no idea what looked good on me or what styles I liked. Through controlling how I looked and how I thought and acted, my confidence and self image had been destroyed. Or rather, it had never been allowed to grow strong. I was not just building a personal clothing style, I was building myself. Then I entered a phase of anger. For a long time I couldn’t wear a skirt or dress of any kind. I still had my skirts, but I never wore them. Eventually that started to fade and I’d wear skirts and dresses but I couldn’t wear denim skirts. If I did wear a skirt it had to be too short for the church’s guidelines or I’d have to wear it with a tank top or low cut blouse. I was afraid if I wore something they approved of, I was falling back into their grasp. I finally realized that even years down the road, the group I’d left behind was still dictating how I dressed. I was still being controlled. I got rid of all of my clothes I’d had as a youth. I had to clean the space of it. I realized that no matter what I put on, I was still somehow breaking their rules. Their rules were so outlandish that by dressing like a normal human, I wasn’t falling close to their grasp at all. I realized that it didn’t matter how I dressed, how I live and believe is so contrary to them, I couldn’t fall back to them.

I have noticed over the years some churches and localised groups have started to shift in terms of apparel as the younger generations come up an take on leadership positions. You may actually see a woman at a church event in jeans. I see this as mostly good, but it has also created this double standard. The organization as a whole has not changed, and the churches haven’t changed their tunes on modesty. So it makes dress even more complicated. It’s ok to wear jeans to an activity, but not to a church service, and not to a different church’s event. And you can wear jeans, but not too tight and not with any holes. You may wear a dress shorter than the knee, but wear leggings underneath of it to cover your legs. None of this is spoken, it’s just this odd understanding that nobody is sure who made up. Instead of relieving pressure, it’s just made more. But hopefully, this will progress further and real relief will be seen in the future.

When you dress yourself what is your purpose for wearing what you do? If you wish to dress modestly remember these things actually taught in the Bible. Are you spending more money and effort on your clothes than you are helping those in need? How do you behave and carry yourself? Is it seductive and tempting? Are your sexual organs covered? Then if you are good on all counts, wear what you want with confidence and don’t let anyone shame you or convince you to change. You are modest.

family

Damnation

Andi

This one is a doozy, so before I get started on it, I want everyone to take a deep breath and stay calm. I say that because people are very touchy about their faith, and tend to become reactionary when you talk about it. I’m not out to anger anyone.

However, I am out to talk about hell. The place of damnation in most Judaic and Christian religions. This is a piece of faith I kind of ignored because I just didn’t want to think about it. It made me uncomfortable. But recently pieces on hell kept coming across my various news feeds and it seemed time to just delve into it.

Growing up, I was taught that hell is a place of eternal damnation, continual torment, fire, anguish, wailing, and gnashing of teeth. We are all sinners, and sin must be punished, so we are all destined for this awful place. That Jesus was the only way to escape this torment. If you were to ask for his forgiveness and recieve his mercy, he would wash all your sins away, and spare you eternal punishment. Most Christians believe some variation of this narrative, so to challenge that a part of it was incorrect would be to challenge the entire foundation of their faith. So I understand anyone who may be uneasy or wary of the idea. I certainly was.

There were two things that made me uncomfortable with this idea of eternal torment for non believers.

The first was the question about people who never heard of God during their time on earth. This could be as result of being remote and secluded from civilization, or infant death, or mental disabilities. What if a child died before they were able to understand salvation? Now, for the people I was around, most of them made caveats for the mentally disabled and babies, but used the remote civilizations as a rallying cry for further missions. We have to take the gospel to them or they will go to hell. They received no caveats. This just did not sit well with me. I could not fathom a loving God never giving them a chance of redemption.

Second was how hell has been used to manipulate and control people by terrifying them. You must do as we tell you, or you aren’t truly saved and probably going to hell. People didn’t come to God or to church because God is loving and supportive, a very present help in trouble. They came to God and Church out of absolute fear of burning consciously forever in a lake of fire.

One piece I read put forth that hell was not taught by Jesus, or the ancient Jews, it was an idea that crept into Judaism from the Greeks during the span between the Old and New testaments. This idea piqued my interest.

So I looked it up. Every time hell is mentioned in the Old Testament and what was the Hebrew word that was used. Turns out, the English words vary depending on the translation you are using, but the Hebrews words do not vary. So the same Hebrew word would sometimes be translated to English as “Hell”, other times as “death” or “the pit”.

The most common word is Sheol. This word is used in the Old Testament frequently. According to ancient Judaism, Sheol is the place of the dead. Not a place of punishment or of reward, just a place you went after you died. This is why it is sometimes translated as “the grave” or just as “death”. When I was young I was told Sheol was synonymous with Hell and the words could be used interchangeably. I remember this being associated with the Proverbs passage about the seductive woman who tempts a young man and it being said her footsteps have taken hold in Sheol. This was always taught metaphorically, usually to shame young kids into abstinence. This woman was promiscuous and led to hell, the same fate is in store for teens who have lots of unmarried sex.

But what if this isn’t metaphorical? What if we take this literally? If Sheol is the place of the dead and she was on her way there could that mean this woman was dying? It’s made clear, she tempts lots of young men. Hygeiene was not much back then, STIs had to exist, and antibiotics did not. Even just a virus would be easy to transmit. It’s in Proverbs 5:5 that says “Her feet go down to death; her steps follow the path to Sheol;” And another passage about temptresses in Proverbs 7:27 says “Her house is the way to Sheol, going down to the chambers of death.” Could this verse mean literally, this woman will kill you? Do you see how that changed the entire meaning of the passage? It still serves as a warning to not succumb to temptation, but instead of eternal damnation as the outcome, death is the outcome.

Next word I came across was Abaddon. This one is a little more tricky. It appears in both testaments, and means destruction, but in the New Testament it is personified as an Angel. So is Abaddon a place of destruction or is it the Angel of Death? I found lots of conflicting info on this. Some believe Abaddon is actually sent by God to hand out his punishment before his return in Revelation. In the verses I found it in the Old Testament it was coupled with Sheol. So it came as death and destructin.

But then I moved on to the New Testament. Not just needing to know what my English translations said, but what the Greek said. So again I looked up the word hell in the New Testament and which word in the orginal language was used. Most references of hell, or specifically, the lake of fire come from Revelations. Entire book series have been dedicated to explaining the end times, so I’m not going to. I am going to let you know what I can dissect from language though.

The first word I came across was Gehennna. I never heard this word growing up, I first heard it in an anime, as an adult. That is because in the KJV, the version I was raised solely reading, it is translated to hell every time. In this case, it may be more appropriate than with Sheol. Gehenna references an actual place. A valley, where people performed child sacrifices. The land was declared cursed and became synonymous with wickedness, understandably. It became the place where the evil were sent, and over time became known as the land of the wicked. Its is simple to see the connection between it and the idea of hell. Only the evil are sent there, cast out and separated from good.

Another word used in the New Testament is Hades. This word is used in the same manner Sheol is used in the Old Testament. This, actually makes a lot of sense to me. Hades is the god of the underworld, and the land of Hades is were the dead are. It’s a station the dead pass through. The idea of a neutral place all the dead go to, aligns with Sheol and even the Greeks idea of Hades’ realm. Now wouldn’t this confirm the piece I read about Greek culture seeping into Judaism? Maybe. But I could also see it as a simple borrow of their language as well. Although in English it may have been changed to hell, I dont think the ancients meant it as a place of punishment.

Then there is the word Tartarus used only once in 2 Peter 2:4. In KJV this verse says, “For if God spared not the angels that sinned, but cast them down to hell, and delivered them into chains of darkness, to be reserved unto judgment” In the Complete Jewish Bible, this verse reads as “For God did not spare the angels who sinned; on the contrary, he put them in gloomy dungeons lower than Sh’ol to held for judgement.” And in the Youngs Literal Translation it reads, “For if God messengers who sinned did not spare, but with chains of thick gloom, having cast [them] down to Tartarus, did deliver [them] to judgment, having been reserved,” It is usually traslated as hell, like in the KJV though sometimes left as tartarus, as in the YLT. This I do find interesting as Tartarus is the pit Zues trapped the titans in after he defeated them. Where the realm of Hades was the land of the dead, Tartarus was a place deeper, a place only the most wicked were sent to be imprisoned. Even though, this seems to borrow from Greek mythology, it also aligns with the idea that hell is a place reserved only for the most Evil, as with Gehenna, and is a seperate place than Sheol or Hades.

So simply based on the language used in these words we can start to paint a picture. Sheol/Hades is a land where the dead are, neither in happiness or anguish, waiting to be transferred to heaven or hell. And Gehenna/Tartarus is a sereate place reserved only for evil beings.

This brings us to two questions. First being, aren’t believers taken directly from their earthy bodies to heaven when they die? The concept of a realm of the dead kind of contradicts that. And second, is hell then eternal?

For the first, let’s look at the verse so often quoted at funerals and at greiving family members. 2 Corinthians 5:8 “We are confident, I say, and willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord.” KJV It is often summarized with a rub on your shoulder as, “you know as the Bible says, absent from the body, present with the Lord.” To try and comfort you about the deceased relative. But if Sheol exists, we are not imemedietly present in heaven the moment we are absent from our earthly forms. The passage this comes from talks about the eternal bodies we will have and how burdensome our earth bound bodies are, so this connection is not hard to make. However, this passage doesn’t ever say were immediately present with the Lord.

Conversely, I think many of even common Christian’s beliefs support the reality of Sheol. In the end times there will be a resurrection and the dead will rise at the trumpet sound. Its pepperd throughout the NT this resurrection of the dead. John 6:40 reads “And this is the will of him that sent me, that every one which seeth the Son, and believeth on him, may have everlasting life: and I will raise him up at the last day.” KJV (Notice that little prepositional phrase “at the last day”?) 1 Corinthians 15 is where we get the trumpet sounding from. Verse 52 says, “In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed.” KJV the resurrection is taught, and sung about endlessly. But if all the dead are already with God why are they being resurrected? I’ve heard this explained as their spirits are with God but their bodies aren’t and that’s what raises at the trumpet sound. Although I’m not sure people want their old bodies in heaven and if we are given new perfect bodies, we don’t need the ones we’re riding in now.

Now for the eternal question. Nowhere else in all of the Bible is the Lake of Fire, often described as hell, mentioned outside of Revelation. So much of this book is confusing and complicated. Chapter 20 speaks quite bit about this Lake of Fire. Starting in verse 10, “and the devil who had deceived them was thrown into the lake of fire and sulfur where the beast and the false prophet were, and they will be tormented day and night forever and ever.” And then in verse 14, “Then Death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. This is the second death, the lake of fire.” ESV Before this death and Hades give up all the dead and they are judged according to the book (the Lamb’s Book of Life) and then those not found within were also cast into the Lake. This should undoubtedly settle eternal hell right? It does say the devil, the beast and the false prophet are tormented forever and ever, but does not say that about the others. This tiny phrase “their part” in Rev 21:18 leads some to believe that for even the worst of us, the Lake of Fire is temporary “But as for the cowards and unbelieving and abominable [who are devoid of character and personal integrity and practice or tolerate immorality], and murderers, and sorcerers [with intoxicating drugs], and idolaters and occultists [who practice and teach false religions], and all the liars [who knowingly deceive and twist truth], THEIR PART will be in the lake that blazes with fire and brimstone, which is the second death.” AMP Even others draw from the previous chapter that the saints were resurrected before this, and so the dead rising in Revelation 20 would be the non believers who are then judged and punished for their deeds according to the books. “And the sea gave up the dead who were in it, and death and Hades (the realm of the dead) surrendered the dead who were in them; and they were judged and sentenced, every one according to their deeds.” Revelation 20:13 AMP So does this mean only the worst could not be reconciled and had to be sentenced to the Lake of Fire? Several other verses refer to those in torment and state they still refused to repent. Which gives the idea that they had the opportunity to do so.

None of us have been dead, and the end times have not come yet, so all of this is ultimately unknown. But from what we know of God, and what we can learn from the Bible, we can get a pretty solid idea. When we die we kind of hang out in suspension until the ressurection at the end of time, at which point we are judged. The righteous are spared punishment, the other’s sentences are handed down, and some may be punished in the lake of fire, but no one is denied repentance. So according Revelation the lake of fire is real, but I believe it is not a permanent punishment. Only Satan, the beast, and false prophet are tormented forever.

Feel free to share you knowledge and thoughts on this, but again I demand kindness and tact.

family

Rats in the Building

Andi

I watched Seth Meyers new Netlfix comedy special Lobby Baby today. I do recommend. It was funny, and it did make me laugh. Maybe in a way only another parent could do. I liked that they gave people a skip politics button for those of us so burned out by the constant barrage of political news stories every single day. Even though I personally did not use the skip politics button.

But then he made a joke that wasn’t actually that funny. Not that he was being offensive or I was hurt, but because he was making light of an actual incredibly serious topic. Which I get, is his job for the most part, and the reason I didn’t skip the politics section. He makes light of some serious topics and sometimes makes them more digestible. But this was so close to home, it made me pause for a second.

He was talking about pedophiles, and then segued into talking about the Catholic colleges he’s done shows for. You see the connection there?

But it was the next analogy that really dug in. I’m paraphrasing this but He said,

if you found out your favorite restaurant had a rat problem you’d say, I really like you, but I’m not coming back until you get rid of the rats. But when you came back a few months later and asked if they’d taken care of the rats they said, oh yeah! We found 1,000 rats in the dining room, so we rounded them all up and moved them…to the kitchen.

And then he said no more. But the point was so clear and so direct, because this is literally what churches do. And he may have been speaking specifically about the public issue within the Catholic church, but it’s not only the Catholic church with this solution.

I’ll give you a real scenario. Pastor is accused by several girls and women of harrasment and assault, church denies it, women persist, pastor claims he’s being attacked by Satan, eventually resigns only to be moved to a different church in a different state. This has happened and is still happening.

This is a huge problem, but you probably don’t hear about it because churches are really good about keeping it under the radar and convincing congregations that anything they hear are lies from the Devil.

He said, and I will say, its not the members of the faith (usually) who are responsible for this. As I said, when enough raucous is raised the pastor is fired or resigns but then is just moved elsewhere. It’s the leadership of the faith, the denomination heads, the elders of the churches, that need to deal with this.

Seth’s rat analogy could not be more perfect and well laid out. I went from haha he made a joke about his kids toy to oh damn he’s dropping some truth bombs. Because he is right. There are rats in the Christian churches of many denominations, and they need to be dealt with. Not just moved out of your sight, but removed from the building.

family, My Story

Recent Relationship with Faith

Andi

Before, I told you about the recent relationship I’ve had with my parents. I’ve told you about my relationship with friends. This time, I’m going to discuss my relationship with faith.

Growing up in such a strict religious environment meant I was introduced to faith and Christianity from birth. I was carried to church at less than a month old. There wasn’t a time in which we weren’t in the church or around other members, but it was also limited. I was only exposed to one specific denomination of Christian faith and absolutely no exposure to other world religions. All I needed to know about them was that they were wrong. My only glimpse into other faiths was on trips with my grandparents when they would take me to whichever church they could find because my parents insisted we go to church.

When I finally left the church I’d been raised in, their doctrines still followed me, like a looming rain cloud rumbling over my shoulder. I still had to be at a church somewhere, and it had to be a Baptist church. I had severe aversions to skirts and dresses for a time. I still owned some, but never wore them. When I did start wearing skirts again, I couldn’t wear denim. No matter what, my outfit had to be “not church approved” in some way. Even though I’d left, the guilt and shame still hung over me.

I Googled Baptist and Bible churches and made a list of the ones that looked most interesting. Then I visited them. After each visit I’d write a summary of what I thought of the service and congregation. I finally found one I liked. It was a Baptist church, but very different from the one I’d been raised in. If you do not know, there are multiple Baptist denominations, and while they have many similarities, they are not all the same. My parents kept promising they’d come visit with me one Sunday, but that would require them to miss their church, and I knew they wouldn’t do that. And they never did.

I was very faithful, attending every service and many events. This was one of those leftover traits from growing up. That went on until I had my oldest kid. I would only go if my husbad went with me, and having a baby is exhausting, so we didn’t go as much and only ever to the main worship service.

I started to wonder about other groups and religions. What differentiates the various Christian denominations? What was it that classified them all as Christian but still kept them separated? What about other world religions all together? Why did someone believe in a different entity besides God? What about those who do believe in God but aren’t Christian? I started to wonder.

This was the breakdown of my faith. Why did I believe in this one God and not a different one? What about these doctirines I disagree with? Was that really what the Bible taught? And if it is, can I still follow a faith that teaches it? I stripped away all of the previous knowledge I had about religion and set it aside. I had to start from scratch if I was going to get anywhere.

I got a notebook, a couple different translations of the Bible, and a Greek, a Hebrew and an English dictionary. It was also very helpful to have a couple friends I could call on with questions who had degrees in Biblical history. Understanding the language it was written in, and the culture and time period it takes place in are both important for studying its teachings.

There was a lot of writing. I wrote down the verse in all the translations, and the definitions of the words from the original language and in English. Like I said, a lot of writing. By breaking down everything into digestable pieces I started to rebuild what I believed. I developed a strong personal faith. It has no bearing on other people or what they believe, but it guides my actions and behaviors.

As time went on, I lost interest in attending church at all. I know there are other people out there that believe similarly to mysef, but are there enough in one location to form a church? And in any group of humans, conflict will arise. I did not enjoy the petty drama from the church I’d left, I don’t want to get in the middle of any of that ever again. And being from a church that demanded unwaivering loyalty and guilted you if you weren’t involved in everything, I’m a bit apprehensive of the commitment. And then on top of my own uncertainties, my husband has his own thoughts as well. So, to find a church that both I, and my husband, are comfortable in and want our kids around, is a fairly daunting task. At first it was my husband who wasn’t keen on church. Then it was me. I’m a little more neutral on it now, but he’s back to not wanting to go anywhere. I’m not pushing it.

I also don’t refer to myself as Christian anymore. I know it’s just a broad label, but its also how people define you. As of right now, most people associate anger and hate with American Christians, and I don’t want myself in that classification. I believe in God, but I don’t follow Amercan Christianity. I’m certain there are Christian Americans who don’t follow the path Christianity has taken, in fact I think there are many, but the leaders and public figures of the faith are presenting an image I can’t align with. And if that’s what the world sees as Christianity, I can’t label myself with them.

This isn’t the end. There are few things I’m confident in, but I still study and I’m constantly learning. I’m right now delving into the concepts and beliefs on Hell and Biblical discipline. I seem to study best with a pen and paper, and the lots of writing. It’s been easiest for me in the hashing out of what I do and do not believe.

If there is anything I urge everyone to do, it’s to study and learn for yourself. Don’t rely on someone else’s knowledge to form your beliefs. You have to do that for yourself.

My journey is far from over, but I keep going and never stop learning.

family, My Story

Recent Relationship with my Parents

Andi

We are nearing the conclusion of my story thus far. This particular topic today is kind of emotional and personal for me, but I hope you enjoy.

I hadn’t had a panic attack in months, in fact not since the move. Until my parents decided to make a visit. I had three in one week. Then my jaw swelled up and hurt to eat or speak. I went to the dentist afraid I had an infection, but no, I’d pulled a muscle in my jaw. An injury most commonly associated with people who clench their teeth in their sleep. I don’t do that, but I do tend to subconsciously grit my teeth when I’m stressed. I couldn’t talk the whole weekend they were here, which may have actually been a good thing. My jaw had just started healing the day they left. That was a Sunday, a purposeful tactic to try making us go to church with them. Well, it worked, we went, but it was just awful. My husband and I both avoided giving out any of our personal information because neither of us liked it. At lunch, my mom informed me she had given our phone numbers and address to a staff member so they could visit us. I was furious and felt infringed upon, but remember, I couldn’t speak so I just nodded.

I decided then, something must be done. This was a bad relationship and it had to change. I however didn’t know how to change it, so I stopped speaking to my mom unless we needed to relay information. No chats or small talk. I decided I needed some breathing room to figure out where and what barriers to put up. She hated that. She’d bug my MIL until she called me to try and convince me to talk to my mother. She’d called my husband and want to talk to me. She’d have my dad text me for her. Anyway she thought she could get me to talk to her. If I’m honest, this just annoyed me more and made me not ever want to speak to her for any reason.

We had to make a trip to Oklahoma because my Grandpa who had dementia had been put on hospice care. We visited him on Sunday and he was still alert. He was having trouble speaking, but he knew we were there. He got tired and so we took the boys outside and had some fruit in the backyard. My mom started bombarding me with questions on why I didn’t respond to her. Then gave me a sob story about how she didn’t have a great relationship with her mom, but never cut her out. She even went so far as to say she wasnt sure her mom loved her. (This is a sidetrack, but that’s such bullshit. My mom is obsessed with the 5 love languages, but can’t seem to piece together that my grandma may have expressed love differently than my mom does. And it seems to me that it has nothing to do with how grandma expressed love at all and more about my mom being bitter that grandma chose to have a career after she had kids and didn’t drop everything to stay home with them. But that’s a special rabbit trail) I told her then, my goal was not to cut her out, but I wanted a healthy relationship with her. She asked, “what does that mean?” And I said, “I really dont know, I’m trying to figure out what a healthy balance looks like.” That was the end of the conversation. Looking back I think her question was not looking for an explain of what I meant, but in bewilderment as she thinks we already have a healthy relationship.

Later, she came in to tell me to go through Grandpa’s room and pick out the art I wanted. She tried getting me to take one of his watches. He wasn’t even dead and she was trying to get rid of his things as though he were. I told her I wouldn’t. By Tuesday, Grandpa was unresponsive, almost as though he’d hung on until he saw us again. I was sitting with him alone, kind of trying to deal with the now imminent reality of his death. My mom chose this moment to come in and repeat the sob story about her mom with a few added details. I was already distraught, and she chose the most inappropriate moment to try and fish out a reaction. I started to well up, but the emotion was too great, so I shut down. I went silent and just stared at the bed rail until she trailed off and left. After I left his room, I had to leave the house. I went outside until we left. I couldn’t be in there anymore. I didn’t ever want to go back into that house again.

We had agreed, mom wanted to have a service with the members of their church that knew him and at a later date when all of us could come we would go out and bury his ashes. Since he was to be cremated, it didn’t need to be done right away. I talked to my mother before we left town and went over the plan then, so she was aware and knew what was agreed on. So my family left town to continue the second part of our trip. Until he passed, and then she threw a fit and wanted us to bury him right after the service. It was horrendously bad deal for us, this would mean we had to extend our “vacation” with no certainty my husband would be allowed to file for grievance. I tried to call and text her and ask why she was suddenly forcing such a rapid burial when it was unnecessary, asking her to wait. But she wouldn’t answer me and nobody else would confront her about it. Two of Grandpa’s grand daughter in laws, five of his great grandchildren, and his own brother weren’t able to make it. But gosh darn it all, my dad’s brother who wasn’t even related to Grandpa, hadn’t seen him in years and had no relationship with him was there, so it had to be done then. They shouldn’t have been at the burial at all. (Don’t misinterpret me, I like this Aunt and Uncle and I don’t blame them for this. They were just trying to be supportive in a hard time. This was all on my parents) My mom didn’t speak to me expect to take my brothers and I into Grandpa’s room she had already cleared out and converted to a guest bedroom (less than a week after his passing) and splayed all his inexpensive personal belongings and told us to take what we wanted. It was so uncomfortable.

Something broke inside me on that trip.

Most recently they came through for a visit over a weekend. My mother texted me a few months before and told me about it. At this first text, I told her we had no vacation time left and would only be able to see them on Saturday. The week of, I get another text saying they’ll be in town Thursday and would like to see us. I repeated, we only have Saturday available. Next day I get a text saying they’ll be in Friday instead of Thursday and they’d like to see us. I said, again, we are busy on Friday, Saturday is the day I’ve set aside to spend with you. So they call my husband while he’s at work and ask what is going on and if he would like to visit on Friday. He calls me and asks what’s up and why my mom is asking why I don’t want to see her.

See, my mom is really good at finding a weakness, she can sense them, and then she will target it to get her way. She knows that going behind my back when I’d already clearly stated the plans annoys me. She also knows my husband may not know what I’ve already said in a private conversation he was not apart of. So if she can get us saying opposite things, she can use us against each other and get whatever she wants. She can wedge her way in and make us angry with each other and not with her. So she will ask incendiary questions, like, what did I do to make her mad at me? Knowing he doesn’t have an answer and knowing that will upset him so he snaps at me.

She did this flawlessly without us noticing until we were angry with each other and I realized it. We both sat down that evening and set up a plan, and a defense. This wasn’t happening again. So I was busy on Friday, we kept them occupied doing things on Saturday so there was no down time to chat, and we conceded and had lunch with them on Sunday but did not attend church with them. After the first flub, it was the most peaceful encounter we’ve had with them in years. I guess in a way, she forced us to communicate for precisely and clearly and work together, so in some odd twisted way, her little mess was good for us.

I believe my parents are genuinely good people at their core, but I also believe they’ve been inundated with bad teaching for too many years. I believe that the particular brand of religion, the Independent Fundamental Baptist church, they’ve been a part of for 30+ years has poisoned them, and even shaped their minds and behavioirs. I want to have a good relationship with them, but I don’t think I’m able to unless they admit the problems and change them, and sadly I don’t believe that can happen unless they leave the church behind. With acquaintances, I’ve had to remove most of them completely from my life. But with my parents, I worry that change will never happen and they aren’t easily removable. Now I’m faced with how to move forward. How to deal with our relationship and handle it in a way that is healthy. How will I explain to my children why they never see that grandma and grandpa?

By suggestion of friends, I’ve gotten the book Boundaries by Dr. Henry Cloud & Dr. John Townsend and I’m just starting to read it. Hopefully this book will help me know how to move forward in my relationship with my parents.

family, My Story

A Glass Wall

Andi

This is Part 4 of the life story for you. I hope it is understandable and enjoyable.

Imagine a huge glass wall you are standing on one side of, but it’s the wrong side. What you know is good and right, and healthy is on the other side. You can see it, you know you have to break the glass to reach it, but it’s still a solid wall and it’s still hard to break. This is what fighting against mental barriers feels like.

I’ve never been overly good at anything. Alright at a lot of things, really bad at a few things, but good at anything? No. Mediocre is a good way to describe it. This, coupled with a rhetoric that told me I was incomplete without a man gave me a unhealthy view of myself and no sense of self worth. I knew of women who didn’t so much as speak without their husband’s permission or had husband’s who dictated the clothes they were allowed to wear. They would describe it as equal, just with different roles. But, it was in no way equal. I wasn’t supposed to learn things, have a career, make any large decsions (and large covers any decisions bigger than which chapstick brand to use) on my own. I was taught a version of submission that bordered on servitude. I was constantly told what I was not to do. This had what seems like a odd effect on me. All that teaching and lifestyle spoke to me that I wasn’t good enough on my own. This is I think why I tried so hard for so long to make myself be who my parents wanted. Anything I did, I needed someone else’s approval. If I did a school project, I had to have another student tell me it was good before I could turn it in with confidence. I mean this applied to literally anything. I needed acceptance of my clothing, my piano playing, my short stories, even my faith. I had this unyielding need of support.

This has been the biggest and hardest glass wall to break. I’m certainly becoming more brave and unashamed. But it’s not even really broken yet. I’ve been able to define and know who I am, but unabashedly expressing that to everyone is still frightening and I haven’t been able to do it, mostly in front of my parents. I’m still afraid my parents will find out I’m registered Independent and I have voted Democrat. For real, who has fears like that? I’m fearful of what they’ll do if they know that I support LGBTQ+ and people of all faiths. I am terrified of what they will do if one of my children is gay and feel like I’d have to protect my children from their own grandparents. That I considered attending and visited a Lutheran church, a Methodist church, a Church of Christ, I even attended Mass. That I studied the tenants of Buddhism, read about the teachings of Hinduism. That if we do begin attending a church again, it will not be Independant Fundamental Baptist, highly unlikely it’ll even be Baptist. I’ve seen how they treat others and speak about political and religious alliances, I’m scared of how they would react.

I’d love to say having kids changed me to the core, and everything improved, but that’s not entirely true. I was still timid and afraid and incapable of standing firm in a decision. I’ve always been this way. Timid and afraid of conflict. I knew my parents would not respect any parenting choices they didn’t like. I’d seen how they handled my older brothers parenting choices. For instance, despite my sibling requesting my parents not spank their children, they’d do it anyway. Then complain later how my sister in law had let “liberal education” distort her view of godly discipline, and my brother was falling short for not forcing her to spank their kids.

*I feel like this is a good time to insert a short version of the “godly discipline” she refers to. I may go more in depth with this in a different post. From infancy parents are encouraged to discipline their children for any misbehavior. Children are to be quiet, docile, and still. If they are not, spankings are in order. Many of them, if compliance is not achieved right away. Then as soon as they can sit up, they are taught to honor your parents, don’t talk back, obey immediately with a smile on your face. And spankings again are the chosen form of discipline if disrespect is shown to a parent. For me, and some others I’ve spoken to about this, its given us an irrational fear of our parents. We are full grown adults but we struggle with disagreeing with our parents, or being upfront with them about something they’ve done that hurt us. Because our mind sees this as a disrespect and we must honor our mother and father.*

When my mother decided for me what kind of highchair I was going to use, I knew, my children and my parenting choices would be no different. I’d pick my son up from her house and she’d have bought and fed him cheap off brand off brand formula after I told her he needed special formula only due to reflux. She called them “her babies” and would get so so clingy with them I would get angry. But I never said anything. I never rebuffed. I mean, what good would it do? She ignored my siblings wishes and then mocked them when they left. I was running full steam into the solid glass wall. I could see what I needed to do, but I couldn’t manage to get there and do it. I’d worked out a speech then see her and clam up. I’d do passive aggressive things to piss her off indirectly. When my husband and I went out of town for the first time without kids, I wouldn’t let him stay overnight with my mom and didn’t let her keep him on Sunday because I didn’t want her taking him to church and parading him around like her prize. She threw a literal temper tantrum. She huffed and stomped her foot at me, but I wasn’t giving way on this one.

I think the first time I made some kind of breakthrough with this was after we’d moved. They came to visit, and my oldest didn’t want to hug my mom. This isn’t an odd thing for him, he isn’t a big cuddler. But she got pouty and said to him, “why don’t you love grandma anymore?” She’s done stuff like this to me before I and fell into the guilt trap, but I was not about to let her repeat it on my children. He ran off, and I didn’t run to get him or make him hug her. “He’ll give hugs when he wants to” I told her. She continued pouting at me, but I didn’t waiver. Which may seem insignificant, but telling my mom “no” is a huge step.

Crack in the Wall

family, My Story

Faith Lost and Faith Gained

Andi

Good morning! I’m here to continue on the story of my life. Part 3

I felt like I had to earn my mother’s affection. That to make her proud of me, I had to conform to her picture of how my life should be. In my mind, it came down to two choices. I could change everything about who I was and have my mother’s praise and love, or grow into myself knowing I’d never have that mother daughter bond I so strongly craved. Whether consciencely or unconsciously, I chose to be who I am, but I was still too afraid to let anyone really see.

I moved out of my parents house when I was 19. I was desperate to leave, so my living arrangements weren’t great. I moved in with a coworker and her two sons. She was a pot head and alcoholic. We threw parties every weekend. This was also the beginning of my whore phase. I’d kiss anyone who asked. I was still far more reserved about who I had sex with, but I’d fool around with anyone I found attractive enough. The chasm between who I showed to church and who I was becoming grew deeper and wider with every passing day. I started having issues with my housemate. She’d do things while she was high or drunk and not remember it and deny it happened. She broke my hookah and didnt tell me then tried to blame the cat. After her 10 yr old son and I had to drag her back inside when she passed out in the front yard, I decided it was time for me to go. I moved in with my Grandpa. It was less than ideal for distancing myself from my parents, but it was rent free and a warm home to sleep in. Grandpa didnt keep tabs on me. He’d leave town for days or even weeks at a time and leave me in the house alone. The parties stopped, but the whore phase didn’t. That really didn’t stop until I found a nearly textbook defintion friend with benefits. We were both lonely and just needed some comanionship. I spent a lot of time at his apartment. He was precisely what I needed at that exact point in time. Until he found a girl he was truly interested in and cut of the fwb to pursue her. So there I was living a double life, now alone, with only my friends to keep me company.

I had two groups of friends, so opposite and different black and white have more in common. I had my school friends and my church friends. But I think only three are worth mentioning. My best friend, my now husband, and the Sunday School College Class parents.

I hated my best friend when I first met him. He was younger than me and he played the piano better than me. It was an unforgivable crime. For the next couple years the hatred turned to simple indifference. We didn’t become real friends until we started to attend the same school. There we formed an incredible bond, that was also incredibly challenged and nearly broken. We had to work to rebuild our friendship, and now they’re like family to us.

I remember clearly when a school friend invited me out to go rock climbing with him and some pals. Now, at this time I had sworn off men, especially friends of this person. I’d already dated his middle school bestie, I’d fooled around with him, and his current best friend was in love with me. I had a fun time that day, three of his other friends had been there, but like I said, I purposely ignored them. A little bit later, there was a Daft Punk tribute concert. Since Daft Punk doesnt seem to go on tour, and certainly never in the US, I saw this an an only opportunity. I had to go. So I got someone to go with me, but one of the three pals wanted to come as well. No biggie I thought, he’s cool then. But I remember actively avoiding eye contact. Not speaking to him. I wanted no connection with anymore of this guy’s friends. We got in and it was crowded. Once the concert started and everyone started dancing we got pushed, it got hot, we lost my friend. He says to me, we’re going to need to hang on to each other so we don’t get separated. I agreed. We ended up dancing together the rest of the concert. So much for no contact. About a week later a big storm rolled in, so everyone piled in the truck to chase it. He talked to me, I brushed him off. He’d lean up between the seats and start conversations. I had been told (by a more than likely jealous third party who wanted me to hate him) he was just a playboy. He couldn’t care about me, I was just sex for him. But by that point I didn’t care, if this was a one time fling, so be it. He was too charming and he’d gotten to me. So after we got back, I stayed the night with him. We started dating after that, and as they say, the rest is history. Looking back and hearing some of the things he said to me, I know he had decided from the beginning this was it for him. I took a little time to figure it out, but he knew from the start.

The church classes had a teacher, usually a man and wife, and then class parents. They were there for company and encouragement. Our college class had an older couple as parents who had kids our age, but whom we’d never seen because their kids were never around and never visited. A lot of the class became close with them as sort of their “adopted” children.

I was still living at Grandpa’s house still attending the same church and still seeing my now husband, and I was still too afraid to leave my old life. Even though I wanted to I was consumed by my fear and it overpowered any other desire. During this time my friend kept encouraging me to leave the church but I hadn’t done it. She told me that attending a church because you’re too afraid not to is not a reason to attend a church.

The class parents took me out to dinner at some point during this time. I went because free food. They told me they were my real friends. That they loved me and they would be there for me no matter what. My other friends, they wouldn’t stick around. They were flakey friends who’d stop caring for me if I stopped going out with them. Even my other Christian friends would forget me, my only true friends were within the church. This is a conversation I still play in my head.

It was also around this time that my best friend and I had a bad falling out. He had made me very angry and I decided I wasn’t going to call or text him until he called or texted me first and we didn’t speak for nearly a year. My boyfriend asked me to move in with him, and I agreed, which was of course an absolute disgrace to the church, so I lied about who I was living with. The friend who’d been encouraging me asked me instead to come to church with them as support so I wouldn’t feel as though I was alone. I finally did only with their backing could I have enough courage to finally leave. But yet that was still the most terrifying experience that I have ever had. It doesn’t sound like much when you hear it but understand that it was all mental barriers that I had to break out to make leaving even possible.There were a lot of emotions are going on at the same time. I remember laying in the floor of my boyfriend’s apartment and crying in the dark.

But of course the years and years that this has been building up is not what anybody saw because none of them knew what was going on all they saw was I had a new boyfriend and now I had gone and so they all blamed him. My mother actively tried to set me up on dates with other guys that she liked better. She would interrogate me abouy why I liked him and yet no answer I ever gave was good enough. Alternatively she’d interrogate me why I didn’t like the guys that she had picked for me and none of those answers were ever good enough for her either. I also heard some horribly racist things come out of people’s mouths. Things like, I don’t want any brown children in my family, he can’t be loyal to you because he’s Mexican, and he’s going to cheat on you because I’ve never known a Mexican that didn’t cheat on his woman. Subtle things like discovering his great grandfather was Spanish and then on telling people he was actually Spanish, or being shocked he had a good job.

I’d never left church going or God or religion and yet somehow I was still falling away from the Lord and needed saving. I was told that we needed to just elope that we couldn’t have a wedding anymore because we lived together, that we were going to have a bastard child. As though that would’ve made the childs life less valuable. That my life could not truly be fulfilling unless I came back to the Lord, by which they meant come back to that church and fall back into line. Then, as time went on, no one even tried to keep in touch with me. None of my church friends so much as texted me. The people who claimed they’d be there for me all dissipated as soon as I didn’t attend church with them, as though they forgot I ever existed. I remember back to that dinner, and our class parents claiming to love me, but they also left me behind without a second thought.

All of this just made me more and more and more angry. I never did lose faith in God because I don’t believe that these things were fueled by God or a devotion to him. I’ve lost faith in people. Christian people who claim to follow Jesus because they say words with their mouths and yet don’t follow the actions of Jesus. But they’re showing to the world that this is what our faith looks like and so that is how the world defines Christian. So I guess you could say I’ve lost faith in Christianity.

family, My Story

Memories I Don’t Cherish

Andi

This is part 2 of my life story so far, I hope it resonates and is understandable.

When my mom was a teen she started attending a church that I think ultimately changed her entirely. She was not raised this way, but it convinced her she needed to be how they told her to be. And I’m honestly not certain my grandparents ever fully approved of this. She met my dad there, and they still are a part of it Today.

As I was growing up, I don’t have sharp unpleasant memories. That’s the thing about being a kid, you think the way your house functions is just normal. You don’t have any outside perspective to see what is odd or inappropriate, it’s all just the way it is. I don’t have memories of yelling, fighting, or drinking. I was never thrown across a room, locked in a closet, or spit on. So for many years I felt as though I had no reason to be upset because other kids had experienced worse. Their parents actually hated them, mine were just horribly misguided. So I’d brush away the dark thoughts and try to go on.

I will try to explain the atmosphere where I grew up in a tangible way that anyone can grasp. It’s difficult to put a feeling into words, but after a lot of thought and some trial and error, I think I’ve found the words. I hope its easy for anyone to understand.

I was taught that there is a straight and narrow path, and then there is a wide and easy path. The straight path leads to heaven, the wide path to hell. It’s hard to stay on the straight and narrow, temptations and sins beset us on all sides, so you must work hard to stay there. Their way, their rules, their way of life is the straight and narrow. If you vary any at all from the set guidelines, you will fall from the path. But once saved always saved! Jesus holds you in his hand and no one can pluck you out! However, if you fall off of their path, they don’t believe you were ever truly saved to begin with. All these other people out here who are Christian but live differently, they have declared are liars. They cannot be real Christians because only they are right and if you do any differently you are going to hell.

So women stay at home and take care of the young, never hold a position of leadership except maybe over other women, always submit to your husband even if that means letting him beat you. Go to school, but only for a womanly degree like music or secretarial studies, and cover yourselves completely. Your body may be made by God but it’s also evil and instead of teaching boys to be responsible for their actions, you must cover your bodies head to toe in loose clothing so they can’t see (while we simultaneously mock Muslim women for being degraded by men for wearing head coverings and loose dresses). Men must be manly, never give an impression of weakness, like you know, showing emotion or any interest in anything that could be construed as feminine. So no play kitchens little boys! You are the leaders! But if you make a mistake we will cover you, its obviously not your fault. Alchohol is the devils juice, but coffee is a totally acceptable chemical dependance. Dancing is evil and makes you want to have sex. Sex is evil right up to the point you get married and then, you young ladies, must consent to sex at every single occasion your husband wishes. But if you want it, tough, your husband can’t bend to your wishes. You must display for the world your virginity so we know you aren’t having sex. Wear a ring to exemplify your purity, and then if you remain a virgin you may marry in a white dress at the church. But young men, don’worry showing off your purity, it doesnt seem to matter as much, so you don’t have to wear a ring or white unless you want to. But don’t talk about sexual organs, don’t talk about biology, or the reproductive system in any way. Don’t question anything! You will probably be mocked for it. Told you just don’t understand, or simply to hush. You may get a response but it’s just a manner in which to shut you down and make you be quiet. The leaders all went to college so we obviously know more than lowly you who read a book. Hush up, and don’t contradict our teachings. And parents, use whatever means are necessary to ensure your children are on and stay on the straight and narrow path. Fear, guilt, shame, spanking until they have bruises, manipulation are all acceptable because their souls are at stake! And remember, you can’t settle because they attend a church or have made a profession of faith. If it’s not an Independent Fundamental Baptist church they are being led astray by the devil, or perhaps were never saved at all! You must not let up! You must keep at it until they are crammed into the small little mold we have for them!

So you have the set up of a wonderful utopia, and the only way to get there is salvation, but you can only be saved if you follow their rules. If you don’t, your other option is a horrible burning place of damnation. Everything is driven by fear. Shame and guilt are so common it’s like flies on a dung hill.

As a teen I began to push the boundries and rules further and further. I began to question doctrines and practices. I was not a popular person, and this didn’t help my likability. I only had friends that were older, already in college. I started to build a reputation. If one thing travels more quickly than light, it’s a rumor through that church. And due to their strict “no sex” rules, males and females were not allowed much contact of any kind. I was rumored to be engaged three seperate times that I know of because I hugged a guy, sat next to a single man in church, and rode with a friend to an event. I really just turned a blind eye to most of this. I knew people whispered about me behind my back, but I didn’t care. In my own home I would notice things in my room disturbed when I came home. Things magically started going missing. I started laying traps. My mom was going through my things when I wasn’t home and taking whatever she didn’t like and telling me it had been lost. She read my journal and I knew it. I started writing it to her and hiding things from my own journal. I once had something I really liked and knew I had to hide, so I put it in my underwear drawer thinking that was my private undergarments it’d be safe. It was gone when I got home. I recall an instance in which my dad yelled, “then you’ll be dressing like a prostitute!” At me and threw a package of underwear up the stairs because I didnt want to wear granny panties anymore.

But it wasnt until I was in a youth Sunday school class about friendship where I was told all my friends needed to be within the church, that my Christian friends from other places weren’t good or real friends, that I remember getting angry. The following week I became infuriated because the lesson about male and female friendships turned to how your life value was based on your virginity. Somehow, though I’ve heard this multiple times, it made me upset. I questioned how a church leader was going to stand there and tell assault victims their lives were now unable to be happy because of an event they had no control over. No one had an answer for me.

From then on I’d had enough. I was biding my time. I planned to move out when I was 18. I made this elaborate plan to move to Tennessee. Because it’d be easier to leave the church by saying I was moving to a new state than leave the church by saying I disagreed with their doctrine. I didn’t have the courage to do that. But the moving to Tennessee didn’t happen. Moving to a new state is hard and expensive. So I enrolled in technology school my junior year of high school for Avitaion Maintenance Technology. This was a huge turning point in my life. First of all, it put me back in direct contact with the person who became my best friend. Secondly, it drove me to challenge myself and pushed me way out of my comfort zone. Of course mechanic is not on the list of approved jobs for women in the church. This is when I started noticing the side glances. This is when other kids quietly told me their parents didn’t want them talking to me anymore. I withdrew further into myself.

It was also around this time my mom latched onto perfect Mary. Mary is the perfect church girl. She stays quiet, keeps to other girls, went to Bible College, memorized chapters of the Bible, gets emotional about Jesus, married a guy going into full time ministry. She constantly praised Mary. Took her on one of our family trips. Told me I should be like Mary. If Mary can memorize Roman’s 8, so could I. I started to hate and loathe Mary. I didn’t actively change, it was a more subconscious action. I began to do anything and everything to mold myself into the image of what my parents wanted. I never quit school thankfully, but I delved into church with my all. Well most of my all. I became two sided. I had my perfect little girl I wore to church and for my parents. And then I had me, that I wore to school and out to friends parties.

I got a kick in the pants my third year of tech. I had always been the smart one. Enrolled in all the accelerated classes. I didn’t think I was beautiful or charming, but I had my brains. Until I took Powerplant. For whatever reason radial engines made zero ficking sense to me. I failed the class. Which meant I had to wait 2 months for the next class to start and retake the course. What I didn’t know then, but have realized since is that I became depressed. My identity had been crumbled. I didn’t get out of bed. I didn’t eat. I had no desire for anything. But it wasn’t church people that helped me, my church friends didn’t even notice anything was off about me. It was a school friend that noticed and made sure I’d eaten that day. I remember he gave me his muffin, potentially the only food he’d had to eat that day, and he gave it to me. My mother didn’t take notice either. I still lived at home, and I didn’t eat, speak to anyone or leave my room for days, but she still never noticed. She to this day has no idea I struggled with depression while living in her house.

After that, I decided I had to give the middle finger to the world, but I was still too scared to do it. So I brooded.

These are the memories I don’t Cherish.