Archive for March, 2011

Adventures In Recovery ~ Boo! Letting Go Of Magical Devil Thinking

March 31, 2011
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by Calulu

Sometimes I forget just how far my thinking has changed since I left
Possum Creek Christian Fellowship only be to reminded in a very big
way when I least expect it. The other day I was reminded how much my
thinking on ‘The Devil’ has changed.

I was working at the quilt studio helping a customer pick out coordinating fabrics for borders and bindings on several quilts she was finishing up. This customer was someone I knew vaguely from my PCCF days, a lady that attended a sister church that has split off from PCCF named Abundant Grace Fellowship. This lady, Michelle M., was a regular at both of the studios, the fiber arts-quilting one and the fine arts studio. She is one of those few from my former world that actually deigns to speak to me like I’m a human being, not an enemy or someone to be pitied.

As I stood at the cutting table unrolling the fabric bolts and cutting her fabrics, the door behind me, the one leading into the employee area, slowly mysteriously creaked open on its own. It opened fully, both sides of the saloon-style door flaying out until you could see all the way to the back door of the building.

Michelle startled, gasped and moaned out, ‘What was THAT?’ I kept cutting before answering her with a shrug and a smile, ‘That’s just our ghost’

The studio is in a former Presbyterian church. The church was constructed in the late 1700′s before becoming our shop ten years ago when the congregation outgrew the building. A building that old is bound to have a few quirks or perhaps unusual visitors. Everyone who works there has seen the opening closing door leading to the employee area. We sometimes hear footsteps upstairs and what sounds like people talking from the upstairs.

For some reason I think our visitor’s name is Charles and he was a former pastor of the church. I think he comes back to check to make sure everything is in order. It’s not spooky, it’s just the way things are there. We’re used to whatever it actually is.

The building next door was a tuberculous sanitarium from that same time frame and people have seen strange shadows and lights inside. Across the street is a pre-Civil War hotel also rumored to have unexplained phenomena.

I’d forgotten until that exact moment how Fundamentalism views anything outside of the norm until Michelle opened her mouth and begin to berate me for trucking with The Dark Side. This was clearly DEMONIC!!! and I must cast it out with prayer and the BLOOD OF JESUS!!! It’s a DEMON!

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The Beautiful Girlhood Doll ~ Introduction

March 29, 2011
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by Libby Anne My parents started out as fairly ordinary evangelicals. My mother intended to go back to work after I was born, but once she held me in her arms she decided she could not bear to leave me with anyone else, and so she stayed at home. When I turned five, my mom could not bear the thought of sending me off to kindergarten. I was still so little, after all, and what did kids really learn in kindergarten? She had heard of homeschooling, and, though she was still skeptical, she decided to Full post …

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When Promises Become Dreams: Doing Marriage God’s Way

March 27, 2011
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by AfricaTurtle

The title of Sierra’s Post “When Dreams Become Promises” stirred thoughts in me of another Dream, of other Promises that have brought their own dose of pain and disappointment and reality into my life: Dreams of an enduring, godly marriage and the Promises I made to God and myself in order to lay hold of that dream.

I made my first promise at the age of 14. “I promise to never date a non-christian”. It was the call to action given by a speaker at the summer church camp I attended that year. I knew it was right, I knew it was what God expected of me. How can “light fellowship with darkness”? Why would I build a life with someone I couldn’t hope to spend eternity in heaven with? What a heartache that would be! What a burden to bear, to be “unequally yoked”! I knew that God wanted what was best for me. I knew I could trust him. I knew I would never “compromise” my walk with God by dating a non-Christian.

The second promise came only a few, short years later, at the age of 16. “True Love Waits” was the name of the campaign. It was pretty popular that year in various area youth groups and on a national level. I still have the card that I taped to the inside cover of my Bible that year: ““Believing that true love waits, I make a commitment to God, myself, my family, my friends, my future mate, and my future children to a lifetime of purity including sexual abstinence from this day until the day I enter a biblical marriage relationship.” Signed and dated. For my 16th birthday I even asked my dad to buy me a “purity ring”, a ring I would someday give to my husband to show him how I had saved myself for him, and him alone.

Then as I went through high school and built friendships with other “like-minded” and “strong” Christians, we started talking about “casual dating”, why it wasn’t good, the emotional repercussions and so on. We really believed it was important to only consider dating someone who we believed we could actually marry. By this time I knew I had a call to foreign missions so this drastically reduced any dating “options” for me. Not too many guys I knew were interested in heading off to live in the jungles of Africa!

I believe it was also around this time that Josh Haris’ book “I Kissed Dating Good-bye” started to appear in Christian circles. I had pretty much already concluded that casual dating was not for the “mature” Christian. My father had no interest in “choosing” my spouse for me. (Not that he was unconcerned, he just always said “you’re the one that has to live with him, not me! ) So while I never committed to courtship, in the purest sense, I was, nonetheless, convinced God would lead me to the “right man” at the “right time”. This was something I was leaving in his hands. I didn’t “trust” myself with a decision this weighty, I definitely knew I needed God’s guidance, direction, and seal of approval.

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Justice is No Lady: Chapter 5 ~ In Pursuit of Biblical Theology

March 25, 2011
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Warning: This story series contains descriptions of physical abuse.

by Defendant Rising

Hannah was born at home in spring of 1996. By this time, Nate had a better job at a personal injury law firm and we were able to get a three-bedroom house.

Satan must have followed us, because now there were lesbians having sex in the mailbox and Nate had no idea how the pervert porn peddlers got his name and address again.

I was still in a stupor, still worshipping my cult leader. The lights were on in my brain but no one was home. I think, however, that my brain’s doorbell started ringing in 1996, and Tess’s Good Sense began its three years of patiently knocking, waiting to be invited back in. Doubts, in huge bold type, slipped under the door and were increasingly hard to shove back out onto the doormat of my mind. Even a Branch Davidian or a card-carrying member of the Manson Family would begin to get suspicious when the porno people guessed their leader’s name and address twice.

Nate’s theology had more twists and turns than a ‘coaster at Busch Gardens. I could not keep up, and the numbers of True Christians with whom we could associate grew smaller and smaller.

By degrees, Nate became:

1. A Reformed Baptist—a Calvinist who holds that only “the elect” are predestined to be saved and he’s one of the “elect,” only Nate was the Baptist brand of God’s chosen few, as opposed to the more common Presbyterian variety.

2. A Reformed Baptist Theonomist—all of the above plus embracing Old Testament Law. Nate forbade me to serve bacon, ham, or shellfish. We wore only 100% cotton or other natural fibers.

3. A Reformed Baptist Reconstructionist—all of the above plus a belief that the Old Testament Law as given to Moses should be the one and only law of the United States. This would reconstruct America. In Mosaic Law We Trust.

4. A Reformed Baptist Reconstructionist Polygamist—ditto, with the possibility of the reconstructionist taking multiple wives, the better (and faster) to reconstruct America, my dear.

This was a bit much.

However, Nate was quick to assure me that while God would have no problem with Nate “using his freedom” to take one or more mistresses and call them wives, and while Nate had no problem with polygamy per se—he was actually pretty comfortable with the concept—I, Tess, was so loved by Nate that my husband would set aside his liberty in Christ to sleep with other women out of his great love for me.

Nate did not understand why I was not bowled over with love and gratitude. After all, “God’s Law says . . .” Look at Abraham, Isaac, David, Solomon.

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Lori Wick, Christian Author Involved in Child Abuse Probe

March 24, 2011
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by Francesca T.

Lori Wick, the author of historical Christian novels has been tied to a 16 month child abuse investigation in the town of Black Earth Wisconsin (Dane County). The child abuse investigation and resulting charges surround the Aleitheia Bible Church which, Lori and her husband Bob financially support, to the tune of $500,000.

In the Dane County Sherrif’s Department press release dated 03/21/2011, there are twelve total counts of child abuse against the two elders of Aleitheia Bible Church: Philip B. Caminiti, who is the main pastor, and his brother John R. Caminiti.

Philip Caminiti’s charges are: Intentional Child Abuse-Bodily Harm; Conspiracy to Commit (8 counts).

John Caminiti’s charges are: PTAC of Mental Harm to a Child (4 counts); Intentional Child Abuse-Bodily Harm (4 counts); Mental Harm to a Child (4 counts). (Please note that in Wisconsin, a large burden of proof lays with the prosecution in the successful prosecution with charges of Mental Harm to a Child.)

Also accused are second generation Caminitis, Mathew and Alina, the Wick’s son Timothy, Andrea Wick, and finally, Maria and Timothy Stephenson. Please see the Sheriff’s press release, linked below, for the entire list of the additional charges.

In a criminal complaint Phil is quoted as saying “the scripture is never wrong” and “pain is a good way to teach children.”

The complaint says he also told them “if you spank early and it is done right then kids will be obedient”, adding he didn’t think bruises were telltale signs of something bad.

Church members say children and infants were punished for things such as being emotional, grumpy or crying, not sitting quietly through church, crying when being handed from a mother to another person or for potty training mistakes.

These members of the church are on record as saying that they believed a “one and a half month” old child is old enough to be spanked. They also go on to say that their preferred method of spanking is by the use of wooden spoon or a 12” – 18” wooden dowel with the diameter of a quarter. These implements were described to be used on the bare skin of young children, including infants as young as 2 months old. Every parent attested to the redness or bruising of the children’s skin after such a bout of (so called) spankings.

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No Charity in The Remnant ~ Part 1: The Sinner’s Prayer

March 22, 2011
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by Whisper Rain

Once upon a time, there was a little girl. We’ll call her Whisper Rain. :) She was a furiously happy little girl- she had tons of energy & was sometimes loud and difficult, but her parents loved her very much just the way she was.

Soon her little brothers and sisters started coming along, and happy little Whisper got even happier. She was confident- and bossy sometimes- but her little brothers and sisters didn’t seem to mind. She made up stories and jumped on the couch, and even cussed like a sailor once in awhile.

One day Whisper’s Mommy was excited! She had met Jesus, and now she finally felt like, through his strength and with his guidance, she could be the Mommy she’d always wanted to be for her children. The Rain family started going to church, and the people there were very nice. The children did all kinds of fun things at church, and made friends. Whisper started public school and made more friends! Sometimes they’d take along some school friends to church, and they all had a good time together.

All the kids in the neighborhood liked to come play at the Rain’s house, because it was a fun place to be. Sometimes she’d go to their houses to play too, and sometimes while she was there she would see parents fighting and yelling, and slamming doors… and that kind of scared her. It was so different from home, where Mom and Dad would sing songs with you and play hide and seek and video games with you… Whisper liked her family.

When Whisper was in third grade, her Daddy lost his job and her parents decided to move down south to look for work. One of Daddy’s friends was planning to move too, and the families got to know each other and decided to make the move together! Their new friends, the Orwells, had a boy right around Whisper’s age, and they quickly became friends. Finally, the house sold and Whisper said goodbye to her grandparents and cried as she watched them get smaller and smaller in the U-Haul truck’s big rearview mirror. It was a LONG drive to this new state they were moving to! Everything there was different! Their new town was so small! The people there talked with a funny accent. But at least they had their new friends nearby!

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Daughter of the Patriarchy: When Dreams Become Promises

March 15, 2011
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by Sierra

As followers of God’s final prophet and members of the elect Bride of Christ, we made a lot of promises in God’s name. We promised safety to a world we presumed was in its death throes, ready to face tribulation, destruction and ultimate renewal. We promised healing, hope and happiness to those who accepted God’s provided way of escape. We promised individuals that their broken families would be restored, that their financial problems would vanish when they tithed, that God’s will would give them purpose and the strength to deal with the wearying parade of everyday troubles. We promised Alissa that God would heal her daughter.

Alissa was a single mother of two young boys. She worked as a clerical assistant in a faceless grey office. It paid the bills, but not all of them. She had a husband, too, but not all of him. He brought home other women, parading them in front of her face. He took them out to places she would never see. He riled up the boys, then refused to parent them. He made them despise and curse her. He probably took her money, too, but I don’t know. I was a kid, and I wasn’t supposed to listen to these kinds of stories, even though my dad was doing the same thing.

Late in the 1990s, Alissa found out she was pregnant. A third baby for a man who hardly noticed the first two. But Alissa had dreams for this one: this little girl would charm her daddy’s heart, bring him back, make a real man out of him. And our church turned those dreams into promises. God would honor her faith and restore her marriage, since she had submitted to her husband despite all the trials and was ready to bear him a daughter. Just wait and see, we promised her, God has a special miracle for you. How glorious it will be when he reveals his power through you and your family!

Within weeks, Alissa learned that there was a problem with the baby. The child had a genetic abnormality: an extra chromosome, perhaps. She was expected to live only a matter of hours, if she wasn’t already stillborn. The doctors recommended abortion. They said it would spare Alissa the pain of saying goodbye to a daughter who would never hear her hello.

Everyone at church smiled knowingly at this point in Alissa’s story. Doctors loved to recommend abortion, especially unnecessary abortion. It made them money, after all. Alissa ought to ignore them. They were part of a culture of death and hated motherhood. Worse, they didn’t believe in the power of God to heal the sick! Not even cancer could stand before the prayers of God’s elect. Heads wagged along with the tongues. Those doctors might think they knew what they were doing, but they didn’t know our God. He could turn Alissa’s dreams into promises.

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It’s Not About the Clothes!

March 10, 2011
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[Note: For NLQ readers who have not yet joined the forum, here's a small taste of what you're missing ~ :) ]
by Whisperthroughtherain

When I was little, before we moved to the Bible belt, getting dressed was simple. I liked wild colors and animal prints. I felt so pretty when I got my ears pierced. In the summer when it was hot, nobody thought twice about running around in a bikini… Most of us did. Even chubby grandmas! We had pool parties and ordered pizza and my cousin taught me to swim. I thought he was great. Sometimes little boys tried to kiss me, but I just ran away.

When I was a little older, we got involved with a southern, backwoods Baptist church. In Sunday school they taught us Bible stories, and then they taught us to kneel down and make sure our skirt was long enough to reach the floor. We had to get some skirts to wear to church out of respect, cause it was really important to be different than boys. It was really hard to go to the bathroom at church because the ladies room was full of girls fixing their hairdos and putting on perfume and posing in front of the long mirror… I didn’t do that much though, because I didn’t feel pretty at church. I liked to wear jeans at home. And wild t shirts. And camoflage. My best friend was a boy and he would come over and climb trees and ride bikes with me, but we didn’t hang out together at church much. Because boys and girls were different.

After we left that church, I got angry. I didn’t like being told what to do. I didn’t like having to wear whatever other people decided was appropriate. I didn’t like that it mattered. I knew who I wanted to be, and she didn’t look like they wanted her to… so when we visited friends from that church, I had to dress up and play the part for them. Once we met them in the grocery store while I was wearing jeans, and i stood behind the cart, because I felt guilty… but I didn’t know why. I was angry inside. Very angry. I took it out on my parents, and my brothers and sisters. I wasn’t nice.

Then I had an experience… in the middle of the night one night, I realized that God wasn’t an angry old man up in the sky, waiting for me to screw up so he could send me to hell… he loved me. He wanted to be real to me. And I loved him back. All of a sudden my anger was gone… little things didn’t matter to me anymore! God was so much bigger!

We found a new church to go to… and I was so excited! Other people who loved God! I was so open, so happy to be taught about him! I trusted these new people immediately- I loved them too! They were looking out for me!

Yes… I had to take out my earrings to go to church, because these people didn’t wear earrings. Ever. They thought earrings were bad… but it wouldn’t hurt to take them out, out of respect, right? People were happy when I took them out. They all dressed alike… I came to find out that apparently dressing funny was a big deal to God. His people were supposed to stand out in a crowd and be a witness for him. They preached about it, and I thought, well, if God said to do it, I don’t care! I’ll do it! It didn’t seem fair that it was mostly the girls that had to stand out though. They said that if we didn’t wear a head covering we were rebellious against God in our hearts. Even if we didn’t feel rebellious, we definitely were down deep! Wow, I didn’t want to be rebellious! And I liked my Dad, I really respected him, he was awesome! So I’d hate to be rebellious against him too… So yeah, I guess I’ll wear a head covering. I looked in the mirror and shuddered… but then I remembered that all this outward stuff was NOT a big deal in the grand scheme of things!

… Then I started hearing about how, if I wasn’t super careful about the details of how I dressed, other people might look at me and think bad thoughts and it would be all my fault… That seemed a bit off. I kept changing and changing, trying to get this clothes thing right, and at the end I wasn’t only living on the edge of sin… I was in constant danger of being responsible for other people’s sin! And it had been a really long time since I felt pretty…

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