Tag: fear of hell

But They Look So Happy!

November 10, 2011

Excerpted from Dulce De Leche:

All of the recent news about the Duggar’s newest baby spawned a number of online arguments.  One of the most frequent comments was about how cheerful their family is, especially the children.  How Michelle is a great mom who doesn’t yell.  It must be working for them, because the kids are well behaved and look happy.  Sounds reasonable, right?

I might believe it, if I didn’t know what I know of Gothard/ATI and the Pearls.  The Duggars are deeply enmeshed in ATI, and ATI takes allegiance very seriously.  It isn’t a vague Statement of Beliefs that you sign so your kids can take the courses.  It is several pages of in depth info that covers what kind of music you can listen to (no Christian rock), the kind of TV you watch (mainly Christian DVDs), the way you dress (those jumpers are about modesty), the kind of punishments the parents use (spankings), and more.  It isn’t just a curriculum–it is a lifestyle that delves into family finances, child planning and every other detail.

There has long been a lot of speculation about whether the Duggars use the controversial punishment methods taught by Michael and Debi Pearl in To Train Up a Child.  Things like the blanket training, certain phrases that are used, and the general popularity within that subculture have fueled that, as well as many people who claim that it was recommended previously on the website.  I can’t prove that they follow TTUAC, but as of yesterday, the Duggar’s website included it in their Amazon links along with a glowing recommendation.  Considering that some of the other recommendations list personal details about how the materials were used by the family, I cannot believe that it was randomly included on their site without their approval.

One of the creepiest things about Gothard and the Pearls is that they teach that happy is the only acceptable emotion.  If you do not have a joyful countenance, you are publicly shaming your authorities.  In other words, if the kid looks unhappy, it is a personal offense against the parents.  Pearl also has nauseating quotes and anecdotes about how any time his kids expressed unhappiness or anger they were hit even harder and longer until they were cheerful.  How twisted is that?  These children are taught from babyhood to always be cheerful, or else they deserve a spanking.  As they grow older, it is not just the fear of a spanking that causes them to keep smiling.  It is the sincere belief that they are sinning with ingratitude, rebellion and more if they don’t present a happy face.

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Corpses Don’t Rebel: A former follower of Michael Pearl’s “To Train Up A Child” reacts to the death of Hana Williams

November 2, 2011

Trigger Warning: This article contains graphic descriptions of infant and child abuse.

httpv://youtu.be/BP3gvhaA4uo

This piece was submitted by No Longer Quivering member, “ExPearlSwine” – who understandably wishes to share her story anonymously.

The death toll from parents following Michael and Debi Pearl’s teachings continues to mount. Another child is has been “biblically chastened” to death via corporal punishment, and Michael Pearl is defending his teachings in the mainstream media while promoting his new book. Gary Tuchman and Anderson Cooper both reported on the death of 13-year-old Hana Williams, whose adoptive parents Larry and Carri Williams subjected her to beatings and neglect while following the teachings of the Pearls.

Michael Pearl defends himself and his teachings during his CNN interviews using two arguments:

First, the presence of his book, To Train Up a Child, and the presence of his other teaching materials on “biblical chastisement,” in the homes of homicidal parents, is purely circumstantial. It makes no more sense, Pearl argues, to blame To Train Up a Child for discipline-turned-abusive-turned-murderous than to blame Alcoholics Anonymous brochures in the home for deaths due to drunk driving, or weight-loss materials in the home for obesity. As Anderson Cooper pointed out, this defense is illogical. AA literature says not to drink, especially while driving. Pearl literature emphasizes inflicting physical pain on children in order to break their wills and achieve total obedience to parents. In the Cooper interview, Pearl talks about physically chastising to “get the child’s attention.” What if your child still isn’t paying attention?

Pearl’s second argument comes up every time his teachings are linked to children beaten to death: kids end up abused and killed because parents, despite owning copies of his teachings and trying to follow them, aren’t really following his teachings. They are missing the joy part, the reconciliation part, the praying part, the loving part, or whatever. They discipline in anger instead of in love.

Or—and I suspect this is what Pearl really thinks but can’t say without contradicting his own child-training directions—they should have known when to stop, when they were being cruel and abusive instead of loving, even if the child was still in rebellion and hadn’t budged an inch. At some point, a loving parent with some sense and a conscience will stop inflicting more pain. This is what Pearl believes, or at least one would hope this is what he believes. This isn’t what he teaches.

I followed the Pearls’ teachings for years, and the children I subjected to “biblical chastisement” are very much the worse off for it. I’m wondering which part of Michael Pearl’s teachings he’d say I was missing:

  1. Get Pearl’s teachings and read every single word and pray. Check.
  2. Start striking infants with objects on the hand or in the buttocks area as soon as they are able to reach for something you don’t want them to touch and ignore your “No.” Check.
  3. Hit them harder if they continue. Check.
  4. When they cry, lovingly console them and “reconcile” them to yourself and God. Check.
  5. Always use physical chastisement on them when they don’t respond to spoken correction. Check. If I didn’t strike them, my husband did.
  6. Believe that they will end up juvenile delinquents and go to hell if you slack off. Check.
  7. Pray and study the Bible some more. Check.
  8. Be joyful about chastising your baby all day. Praise God while you slap a three-month-old’s hand with a ruler and think about how godly he’ll turn out. Half a check. It was hard.
  9. The children will quit rebelling and be wonderful children who sweetly, quietly obey and love you to pieces. . . No check.

This is what I was missing: the part where the Pearls’ teaching worked. Only one child out of the oldest four quietly obeyed in response to chastisement, but she also had signs of severe emotional disturbance. She withdrew into herself and didn’t speak until she was two. The other three oldest children out of my Quiver Full of kids would rebel. And rebel. They would go to the wall rebelling. They would rebel until the cows came home and the bulls came home and calves were born. The more you hurt them, the more they rebelled.

Michael Pearl has only three methods to deal with continued rebellion in children, since his teachings are straight from the Bible, and therefore infallible:

  1. Blame yourself. You must not be getting my teaching right.
  2. Hit harder. Pain is of the essence.
  3. Blame the kid. What else is left? Other people’s kids give in and act godly.

Oh, and don’t forget to be loving and joyful and kind and patient just like Jesus (only I can’t see Jesus removing the diaper of a baby to inflict any degree of pain on her whatsoever using any object or even his hand, by any stretch of my imagination). But don’t give in. Don’t stop chastising, and make sure it hurts. Don’t let the kid (and the devil in the kid) win.

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Adventures in Recovery – Scaredy Cats: Why So Fearful?

October 30, 2011

by Calulu

Aretha Franklin - “You better think about the consequences of your actions.”

Matt ‘Guitar’ Murphy – “ Oh shut up woman!”

(Loving borrowed from the movie “The Blues Brothers”)

A few months ago I lent out a book by a newer young minister to a friend of mine named Georgia. Georgia has recently made it out of the mess Possum Creek Christian Fellowship devolved into. We’d been talking about new teachings we’d encountered and I’d explained that I liked this guy’s style, I steered my friend Georgia to his teachings on You Tube and lend her that book. Minister X actually has a new book out but I lent her one of the older books first.

Georgia is one of those ladies I had remained friends with even after she stayed and I skedaddled out of PCCF. She’s one of the more relaxed ones and I thought maybe she’d enjoy looking at faith from a different angle. I guess I was sorely mistaken.

Today I got the book back, sent through someone else we both knew. It was shoved down in a bag underneath a thick sheath of clippings from many magazines, newspapers, computer printed papers, several tracts and pamphlets. On top of those were plastic bags for me to recycle craft, my two compartment crudites serving bowl, a baggie of cooked squash and a few late fall vegetables from her garden. I was confused by this, particularly as I unpacked the bag, realizing that the book and accompanying papers were wrapped in brown paper and garden twine like some sort of trash or porn, something disgraceful and yuck. Something you’d bury to keep others from seeing.

When I unwrapped that bundle I knew this just wasn’t any kind of a good sign. I’d hit a nerve or something so I was relieved the paper didn’t contain white powder or nuclear waste. As I read through the clippings, print outs, tracts and other nonsense I finally got to Georgia’s long handwritten screed. She admitted she’d only read a few pages of the book, not many at all, but that Reverend So-N-So on TV Station Y, Pastor Jinks on Radio WJDG, Teacher Itchy-Man at Look At Me Ministries, ad infinitum just didn’t approve of ANY of Minister X’s writings. X was going to Double H E Hockey Sticks for his various writings.

I mean, I found this all very confusing because the book I loaned out was basically about how if you going to be a Christian you needed to be very naturally that way, that your relationship with the Divine should not be like an old coat that stays in the back your closet you put on only when you feel like. It’s not too different than teachings at conferences we’d attended in the past. You’d think he’d written the Evangelical Anarchist Cookbook with directions on how to get high on communion wine and wafers. Or sticking a banana in the tailpipe of your least favorite pastor’s car. Or overthrowing polite society for fun. Or Halloween, don’t get me started about Halloween.

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I Am So Much More Than a Maiden of Virtue! Part 4 ~ Little Things

February 22, 2011

by WanderingOne

I am a nail-biter. I don’t bite them because I’m nervous or scared or anything like that. I just…chew. My nails are ugly and jagged; short and stumpy. I hate the way they look.

Growing up my parents tried to discipline me out of the habit. It showed a lack of self-control, an inadequate ability for self-restraint. I tried to stop. I hated disappointing them. I was afraid of punishment. And yet, I never could shake the habit. I bit and chewed—perhaps it was a form of unconscious resistance: this small imperfection, this awful habit, was a small way of ensuring that my parents’ authority was not absolute. Maybe it was just a bad habit I could never kick.

In any case, my parents’ authority no longer absolute, I decided that this year was it. 2011 was going to be the year that I would quit biting my nails. Towards this end, a friend suggested that I try painting my nails. Perhaps, if they were pretty, I would be less inclined to put my hands in my mouth. It seemed like a good suggestion. I had never painted my nails before—despite having been “out” for around two years, maybe closer to two and a half, depending on how I dated it. I danced, drank alcohol, wore pants and shorts and all matter of immodest clothing, but never in my life had I painted my nails.

I opened an internet browser, and googled “how to paint your nails,” at myself for doing so. Equipped with information from the ever-reliable internet, I went to target and bought a pale shade of pink; something that would not be too noticeable, but hopefully “there” enough to keep me from biting. I returned home, put on some music by an artist whose name I would never even have known a few years ago and began the task of painting my nails.

After I finished, I looked down at my hands to scrutinize the result. Something I never expected would happen, happened. I, the girl who could dance and drink and cut her hair, stared down at my hands to find myself feeling guilty. “Who paints their nails? What sort of person have I become? Jezebel. Slut. Vain, foolish, woman. What am I doing? Jezebel. How could I do this? Why would I ever do this? I’m becoming an awful person.” My brain could not stop. I could not turn off the guilt. I tried to reason with myself “Lots of normal people who are not sluts or whores or Jezebels paint their nails. I did nothing wrong. Anyway, you’ve done way worse than painting your nails. This is a silly, stupid thing to feel guilty over.”

It didn’t work. After talking with an ex-fundamentalist friend, I decided to sleep on it and hope I felt better in the morning.

I Am So Much More Than a Maiden of Virtue! Part 3 ~ Biblical Chastisement

November 23, 2010

by WanderingOne

At this point, I think it’s necessary to write something about how things changed after my sister was born. It’s hard to know what to say here—I do not want to tell my sister’s story for her, nor could I presume to do so. But it would be disingenuous to attempt to write about my life without explaining how and why things changed. My little sister was, in so many ways, my opposite. Where I was shy, quiet, reserved and even timid, she was outgoing, bold, adventurous, and confident. I went to her Sunday School class rather than my own; I followed her lead in so many things, even though I was the older of the two of us. This didn’t always work very well, given that I was supposed to watch her and keep her out of trouble.

My parents saw that and while they were glad that my sister was drawing me out of my shell a little bit, they were also very concerned. My sister, they decided, was stubborn, compulsive, and strong-willed—and she was going to influence me to be the same way. Whereas I mostly demurred to my parents and obeyed cheerfully, my sister always wanted to know “why”? She was determined to do things her own way sometimes, like any normal child. Looking back, I really don’t think my little sister was particularly strong-willed or stubborn. She was a normal girl, with a bright, vibrant personality—who was, from a very young age remarkably self-assured and comfortable speaking her mind. But my sister’s strong will had disastrous results.

My parents decided that what they had done with me would not work with my sister—a new method was needed. And so, they read James Dobson’s book about the strong-willed child, and then discovered Michael and Debi Pearl’s book To Train up a Child. Pearl advocates what he refers to as “Biblical Chastisement,” that is punishing children through the use of a rod, quoting Proverbs 13: 24 as a prooftext: “He that spareth his rod hateth his son: but he that loveth him chasteneth him betimes.” (KJV) Pearl encourages parents to “chastise” (not punish—as if there is some enormous difference!) using a “rod.” He suggests using 1/4 inch plumber’s supply line, to administer the chastisement. And suggests that parents discipline children for everything from crying as infants (an attempt to manipulate parents) to grabbing for something placed within their reach without first receiving permission to normal childhood disobediences. My parents had always employed spanking to discipline us, but what the Pearls advocated went far beyond that. But going beyond normal discipline and spanking, they decided, was exactly what my sister needed.

I Am So Much More Than a Maiden of Virtue! Part 2 ~ Cousins

November 17, 2010

by WanderingOne

When I was four years old my cousin Aaron was born to my mom’s sister. The next year, my sister, and three other cousins were born on my mom’s side. After that, every year, two or three or sometimes all four of my mom’s sisters were pregnant.  By the time I was eight, I had thirteen cousins on that side of my family. When my sister and I were added in, that meant there were there were fifteen of us, and I was the only one not the age of five.   More often than not (we lived relatively near one another), my mother would take my sister and I over to one of her sisters’ houses to do our schoolwork, or to help out with housework.  And we might not be the only cousins over that day; other times, our cousins would come to our house and we’d all do homeschooling together. So, despite the fact that I only had one younger sister,  I was frequently charged with several of the younger children.

I watched them play, kept them out of trouble, helped them pick up their toys, nursed their wounds, settled their arguments, and, when they got old enough to start school, helped them with their homework. I had to make sure they obeyed—when they didn’t, I bore partial responsibility for their errors. But I had to be patient with them and not bossy when they didn’t do what I had asked. If someone did something wrong, I got in trouble for tattling if I told. If I didn’t tell, I was in trouble for helping conceal their sin. I loved my family and wanted to help take care of my cousins and to please my mother and aunts, but I wasn’t sure that I could do it. Some things were easy enough to handle. I could fix scrapes and bruises, wash faces and hands, explain schoolwork, and take care of a sick child. But other things—like settling arguments and disputes and keeping everyone out of trouble—seemed like an impossible task. There was only one of me, and I was only a child.

I Am So Much More Than a Maiden of Virtue! Part 1 ~ I learned to keep my fear of hell to myself

March 9, 2010

by WanderingOne I grew up hearing about my grandparents’ and great-grandparents’ deep faith.  Religiosity was, for my family, an important family heritage that was carefully handed down to us children.  Christianity was the most important thing my parents and grandparents thought that they could pass down to us. On my dad’s side, my great grandfather was a minister.  On my mom’s side, my grandparents served on the mission field in Latin America for a few years after they got married.  There was no escaping religion—it was instilled in us from before we could grasp it. Full post …