of Ric Hardison. It is a long time coming.
We are in the middle of something of a resurgence in the United States of conservative churches.1 There are numerous reasons for this, but the reasons are not so much the focus of this volume. Instead, the focus is something more tangible. This volume focuses on people who have lived in these conservative churches and have moved away from them. These are the stories of the why and the how. Why did they move and how they made it through. Some may laugh or dismiss the transition out of these conservative churches, but it is nothing to laugh at. If it goes wrong, the victim will be as militant an atheist as they were once militant Christians. If the transition is handled sloppily, it may result in severe emotional trauma. This is why they have professionals who help to bring people out of cults. Because it takes time, love, and know-how.
Some of these people were selected to tell their stories because I was familiar with them throughout my years of blogging at unsettledchristianity.com. Others volunteered. All of them are important. All of them, regardless of the outcome, have made it where so many have failed. Do not judge us or pity us, only listen to us. We have shared something that is unique, terrible, and ultimately, beautiful.
This is not a book about telling secrets, airing dirty laundry, or otherwise attempting to disparage others. Indeed, I suspect that many of these authors still have family and friends who remain still yet in the places they have come from. This is about warning, pleading, and hoping that more people will come out of sects that use nothing but fear, disguised as liberty, to coerce the human spirit into bondage, not for God, but in too many cases, against God.
The philosophy of this book is simple. These are the stories as lived by the authors. Whether or not they name names or simply stick to the deeply spiritual move, it is up to them. But the accounts are true. Sometimes, even repeated. You will notice a common thread, no doubt, between the stories, and that is in itself a part of the philosophy as well.
There is always a danger in putting oneself out there for the world to read, to disparage, to ridicule, but theirs is the benefit as well — these stories will touch a soul somewhere, to rescue them from fear, to pull them to faith.
1 Kelley, Dean M. Why Conservative Churches Are Growing: A Study in Sociology of Religion with a New Preface. Mercer University Press, 1996.
“Why Conservative Churches Are Growing.” Christian Post, n.d. http://www.christianpost.com/news/49988/.
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From Fear to Faith
On a dark night, Kindled in love with yearnings–oh, happy chance!– I went forth without being observed, My house being now at rest.
Travis Milam
My journey began as many others have begun: in church. I grew up going to church, usually Sunday morning, evening and Wednesday evening. Summers were for Vacation Bible School. The Bible was the final say in matters of faith and to say that God had called you to do or be something was the end of an argument. It was clear, simple, and easy. All one had to do was follow the rules, make Jesus Lord of your life and believe the Bible.
I grew up in this culture. I was saved (converted) at the age of seven and baptized. I then knew I was set for life because that was everything that God required of me. Oh, I knew that He wanted me to tell others about Him so they could be saved and that I was to read my Bible and know scripture, but as long as I was saved, I really did not have to worry about other things.
I grew up in a Fundamental, Independent, Baptist church. This meant that aside from the Baptist title, we had no denominational framework. We chose our pastors and pretty much did as we pleased in the community as far as helping and reaching out to others. We had communion, or the Lord’s Supper, maybe once a quarter and only on Sunday Evenings. There was no liturgy as that was viewed as High Church and not what Christ had wanted for us. However, if things deviated from the bulletin on Sunday mornings, there were murmurings. Sunday evenings were generally a more casual version of Sunday morning. Wednesday evenings were Bible study and AWANA. Vacation Bible School was usually a guest speaker who came and gave us Bible stories and had us compete with others in sword drills and scripture memorization. Sunday School was learning about the Bible and how we could live as better Christians. There were, and still are, many good people in this church and by many accounts I have heard, we were fairly tame in theology and holding everyone to the “rules.” We did help people and there were many who lived the Christian life. However, there was always in the background a feeling that you were never quite good enough and that you had somehow always managed to make God unhappy or angry.
As I grew up and became a part of this church, I took on many traits that have followed me for many years. I learned what was right and wrong and learned good moral values. I learned many scriptures that have remained with me to this day. These, and many others, were positive things that I picked up growing up in this environment. There were however, other aspects that I learned that were not positive nor were they things that I am proud of today.
While I was taught that one was saved by grace and that salvation was eternal, I learned that one could see who was not really walking the walk of a good Christian. I also learned what it took to give the “correct“ answers and live the “correct” life. On the outside I exuded confidence and showed I truly lived the good Christian life. On the inside, I was consumed by guilt that I did not pray enough, that I did not read my Bible enough, that I did not love God enough. It was taught that a good Christian did all these things and did them without complaint, that they did them willingly and readily. But even as I was consumed by private guilt, I was also consumed by self righteous pride. I kept my hair short, listened to the “correct” music (anything with a pop or rock beat was suspect, more on that later), wore “church clothes” to services, carried my Bible to church, and did not allow bad language to come from my mouth. In short, I was the perfect youth group member. I did not give my parents a hard time, listened to my elders and never questioned unless my parents had questioned something. I was good and I knew it. I knew that God was proud of me and that He wanted others to be like me. But still, I knew something was not right within me.
The church in which I was raised was rather conservative. Being Fundamental Baptist assured that. We believed the Bible was the WORD OF GOD and to question anything in it was to question God. This was not acceptable. Being a liberal in politics, religion, or socially was seen as close to committing the unpardonable sin. We did not like sin and one had to repent and show that it was a true repentance before being accepted in any social circles. Revivals were, looking back, really week long guilt trips about how we did not do enough for God and how God was going to bring judgment on the world and the nation if things did not change. This environment was natural to me. It was where I felt comfortable. It was safe because I knew the routines and I knew the answers. I liked it because it was easy, certain, and safe. God was in His box that I helped to put Him in and that was just fine with me.
What broke my little bubble was going to a show choir competition at a college. This college was affiliated with the American Baptist Churches USA and I had never heard of that. I believed all Baptists were like me. All the other denominations, especially Roman Catholics and other non-Protestants, were wrong, wrong, wrong and I had no problem with them going to hell. Well, I did, but they had to become like me or my church to really become Christian. In other words, I was the person to whom Paul was speaking in Galatians.
During this time I always had fear and guilt that I was not being a good Christian. My fear was that people would find out that I was not as good a person as thought, and that they would not respect me or think me good any longer. My guilt was that I always believed I was failing God and not doing His will. My teenage years were ones I spent in a perpetual Looking over my shoulder to make sure I was doing right and not doing something with which God would get angry. This explains why I was such a “good” person: it was not really because I wanted to be, it was because I believed that I had to be and I always tried to do what was expected of me.
My journey to the faith I have today began in college. I attended the school where I had encountered a different Baptist from me.