Growing Pains

2005-06-11T08:34:00.000-07:00

Please use the links on the right to navegate my blogs.

The SeekerTrek blog tells the story of my journey into and out of fundamentalist Christianity.

SeekerThoughts is more like a regular blog - just random thoughts. Please stop in and comment - we have some fun discussions!

The Historicity of Jesus and Bible Study blogs are meant to provoke thought, though mostly they just provokes mindless ranting from Christians who feel threatened by any challenge to their faith!

Drop me a line sometime! My email address is:

seekermail@hotmail.com

Loyalty for Sale

2005-05-24T16:17:00.000-07:00

As far as I can tell, Ruben was the first Protestant Mexican missionary to be sent from Mexico to any African country. Most of his financial support came from Mexican churches, but he did visit a few of my own supporting churches in the United States.

While visiting my “home church,” he stayed with a young student of the Bible college who was preparing to go to Mexico as a missionary, who had visited me on a few occasions, and with whom he had developed a nominal friendship. The young man also interpreted for him in a few of the area churches.

While staying in the young man’s home, Ruben logged onto the computer to check and send his email through his Hotmail account, and was horrified at what he found. The young man had been viewing sado-masochistic child pornography - images of nude little boys bound in chains.

When Ruben called me about it, I couldn’t help but recall how a few years previous, the young man had been accused by a boy on his Sunday school bus of inappropriate touching. The young man had denied it and passed a lie detector test, and so the case had been dismissed. He continued studying in the college, teaching Sunday school, and working on the Sunday school bus.

The Internet images however, were of grave concern to me. This person was preparing for the ministry, and would soon be in a position of trust and responsibility. As a missionary, he would also be without direct supervision.

I called The Pastor to report it, who assured me it would be taken care of.

Believing it was not my place to “check up” on the pastor, I asked no more questions to follow up on how it had been taken care of. I did talk to the young man on the phone, though, told him I loved him, and was concerned about him overcoming his addiction to pornography – especially this kind of pornography. He had discussed his problem with The Pastor and had worked out some kind of plan.

But something didn’t seem right. The young man was still in school and still active in the church. The treatment seemed quite out of character for The Pastor.

It seemed strange to me that the Pastor had forgotten that the young man had been viewing child pornography, and had believed his story that he had just gotten an email teaser and had followed the link to a porn site, viewing it only briefly before being overcome with guilt and then closing it.

But he hadn't forgotten. He had found the ideal instrument for manipulation.

Having something like this to hold over his head, The Pastor knew he could keep the young man's loyalty - or so he thought.

The student was allowed to finish college, but his diploma was withheld because of certain "attitude problems." He was ordered to continue as a student in the "Master's" program until a change of attitude could be observed - a paying student, of course, paying for a bogus degree from a non-accredited college.

When the student refused, the Pastor threatened him with divine judgment. When he left, The Pastor told him, “I’d be afraid to even walk across the street if I were you.” He enrolled in another fundamentalist Bible college across town.

Soon, he began to post on an internet forum dedicated to criticism of The Pastor and his “ministry.” The Pastor called me and asked me to reiterate in a letter what Ruben had seen. I gave him what he requested, thinking it was my duty to warn the other college and other ministries of the danger into which they might be placing their children.

I later learned that The Pastor sent a copy of my letter to the young man and threatened to send it to the other college president and other ministry leaders if he did not cease and desist his public criticism of The Pastor and his church via the Internet.

I was incensed that The Pastor was using blackmail to stop criticism directed toward him rather than try to protect the innocent.

By this time, I was already becoming aware that the real unpardonable sin in religion is disloyalty. Any other sin can and will be forgiven in exchange for it.

Among the churches I was familiar with:

A Bible college professor was fired for having an affair with one of the students. Several years later, he was hired back as the Christian school principle.

A missionary had numerous affairs with church members. He was brought back to the States and given a pastorate.

A pastor’s son had numerous affairs in his father’s church, so he was given a pastorate in a distant state where he had numerous other affairs. He was involved in producing pornography, and his son died mysteriously after numerous broken bones and other injuries. He was given a position in another fundamentalist church.

A pastor in California was fired for having numerous affairs with church members. He went back into evangelism.

A deacon molested several girls in his church. After their testimony, his pastor defended him, stating that the man "just likes little girls."

Whatever opionion one has about the duty of a church to forgive and restore, it is obvious to the honest observer that the one characteristic of those who are "restored" is that a pledge of loyalty is made to the group, church, denomination, or movement. The sin they have committed actually gives the religious leadership powerful sway over them for the rest of their lives. Of whom much has been forgiven, much shall be required.

I don’t know where the young man is today. The last I heard, he was in a fundamentalist church somewhere in Texas.

Churchgoing parents, beware.

Restoration

2005-05-23T05:17:00.000-07:00

Some, foolish enough to think they know the story, say a woman seduced a certain missionary away from his wife and children with her beauty, charm, and flattering words.

I who am, of course, the only person on earth who really knows, say that she seduced a miserable man away from the suicide he so gleefully anticipated with her beauty, love, and uplifting encouragement.

They say she was my temptress; I say she was my salvation.

They say she was my downfall; I say she was my restoration.

They say she ruined me; I say she healed me.

They eagerly anticipate the divine retribution that should fall upon us at any minute - any misfortune would validate their belief system.

Had our baby been born with a defect, or if anything should ever happen to her, they would shake their heads sadly, pretending to be sorry, and then would find a way to work the story in as a sermon illustration the following Sunday as an example of what happens to those who dare oppose God and his rulers.

If either of us is ever in a car wreck, or gets cancer, or undergoes any sort of physical or mental anguish, there are those who will be quick to point it out.

I say that if any of those things ever happen, it will be worth it for the joy I have had with my wife, lover, and dearest friend. These have been the happiest years I have ever known.

And whatever hardship we may yet endure will not be divine retribution, but the natural occurrence of this wonderful adventure called life.

*Select "SeekerTrek" at the left to navigate other blog entries.

2005-05-06T18:56:00.000-07:00

Please use the links on the left to navegate my blogs.

SeekerTrek tells the story of my journey into and out of fundamentalist Christianity.

SeekerThoughts is more like a regular blog - just random thoughts.

SeekerLinks is where you can find my friends and fellow bloggers.

Feel free to comment!

13. Salvation

2005-05-03T11:46:00.000-07:00

"Hi Steve, you may not remember me, but we knew each other in high school. I ran across your website and just wanted to email you and let you know how proud I am of you. I always knew God had something special for you."

Not remember? I had seen her face a million times in the 20 years since I had looked at her last, and vividly remembered every detail; her almond-shaped eyes that seemed to look right into your soul; the cute little freckle in the middle of her bottom lip; her sensual mouth; her soft auburn hair; her cool, slender fingers.

She was my high school sweetheart, my first real girlfriend. And I had been her first real boyfriend.

Kelly was a quiet, shy teenager. As my girlfriend, she was sweet, selfless, and loving. I responded to her love by using her, ruining her reputation, and humiliating her.

Still, she loved me.

We gave our virginity to each other when we were far too young. But rather than respect, love, or even appreciate her, I callously took what she gave and treated her gift like a broken toy to be discarded. She was too tame. I wanted to party and live on the edge; in the process I insulted her honor, maligned her name, dumped her, and tried to swap her for my friends' girlfriends like a sack lunch.

Still, she loved me.

I took compromising photos with her parents’ Polaroid and showed them around to my friends, to brag about my exploits. One of the photos found its way into her high school, where her school mates ogled lustfully what she had intended only for me.

Still, she loved me.

I left her no choice but to go on with her life as I pursued the lifestyle of a small town’s drug-infested subculture. She could not compete with my new love of chemical-induced euphoria. She had been scorned.

Still, she loved me.

Then, I became a Christian, and soon thereafter, a preacher.

Whereas before she had been too tame, she was now too worldly; whereas I had scorned her before, I now added insult to injury, shunning her as an unholy temptress, unworthy even to be counted among the friends of a Gospel preacher. This wound was more painful than any of those inflicted before. She confided in her diary that she felt she must be damaged goods.

Still, she loved me.

Why would she want to write me after what I'd done to her? The thought of me should have repulsed her. The sight of my face should have made her want to spit. She should have never wanted to hear my voice, say my name, or wish me happiness. What could have possibly possessed her to befriend me again after all these years?

Love.

Unshakable, unexplainable, undying love for one who could not have been more unworthy of it.

If not for that email, at that particular moment in time, at that point in my life, I might have defrauded an insurance company.

12. Despair

2005-05-01T16:48:00.000-07:00

I learned that insurance companies will usually pay out on a suicide if it is committed after a certain amount of time from the effective date of the policy - normally a year or two.

Thoughts of death had begun to fill my thoughts, even before deciding to leave the ministry. I don’t really know when depression started setting in, but it got markedly worse after Mom died, and then even worse after Dad died. Every day for at least a year, I would ask God several times a day to kill me. Usually the first thought in my mind when I woke up was, "Blast it! (That's about as strong as my language got back then) God didn't answer my prayer. I'm still alive."

When I finally came to the conclusion that everything I had believed in was a fairy tale, it just seemed to follow logically that there was no reason I shouldn't kill myself. It seemed the only reasonable, sensible thing to do. I had not yet reached the point in my thinking to be able to fathom that, just because the Bible isn't reliable, doesn't mean God doesn't exist. To me, if the biblical concept of God was false, it meant there simply was no God at all. With no God, there was no plan or purpose for humanity; it was all meaningless, just a glob of atoms and energy that had unfortunately evolved into self awareness.

Everybody dies anyway; with no reward or punishment after death, and no plan or purpose to life, there really seemed to be no rationale for dragging things out. I didn't want my children to live with the pain of that legacy, though, so I started thinking of ways to make it look like an accident. This ruled out the use of guns, poison, sharp objects, and jumping off something really high. An auto accident! But then, I had to make sure that if it were somehow figured out I had run my truck off the side of a mountain on purpose, the building would still get paid off and my kids would still have money to live on. I would need to wait until the insurance would pay it.

One of the biggest problems with making a suicide look like an auto accident is that the survival rate is higher. When that happens, you might be stuck as an invalid for the rest of your long, miserable life. Of course, my body would have to be found and identified in order for the insurance to pay out promptly, so I had to make sure it wasn't too badly destroyed or out in a desert somewhere.

I really could see no reason not to kill myself; I just didn't want to get in a hurry and mess it up.

It became a huge, elaborate lie. First, I had to get the kids back to America, so I finally decided on the idea of moving back to the States, getting my family settled in close to my in-laws. I'd continue my furlough to raise money for the building and tell everyone I was planning on going back to Mexico.

During my travels, my family would have to stay behind because of school, so I would have plenty of time alone. The Skyline Parkway in Virginia has some bridges high enough so that if I "lost control" of the vehicle and ran off one, it would be really likely to kill me. My Mexican truck didn't have airbags, so that was an extra insurance of success.

I figured if I were scheduled to preach somewhere and didn't show up, everybody would know my route and I would be easy to find. If I didn't have a lot of gas in the tank, my body wouldn't be incinerated beyond recognition.

Then, my daughters wouldn't be ashamed of me for leaving the ministry, they would be well provided for, the building loan would be paid off and I wouldn't leave The Pastor stuck with the bill. My church members wouldn't be forced to deal with the legacy of a pastor who committed suicide, they would have their own building and a Mexican pastor.

The plan was flawless! Everyone would be happy and taken care of. I fantasized about the day when I would no longer be conscious of anything, escaping to a place where no problems, pain, disappointments, questions, creditors or detractors could reach me.

I know my thinking was flawed, but I didn't know it then. Someone who has never experienced depression cannot understand how thought processes are distorted. I wouldn't even bother trying to explain it.

Except to say that death seemed to be the only thing that made sense.

That is, until the day I found something to live for.

Welcome!

2005-04-26T18:48:00.000-07:00

Thanks for visiting my blog! I have more to say than I thought I did when I started, so I'm changing the format a little to keep my blog from becoming cluttered.

Please see the links on the left to navegate my blog.

On the "SeekerTrek" page, you will find the stories I've written that tell of my journey into fundamentalism and the painful ordeal of leaving it.

Under the "Links" page, you will find blogs of some of my friends, other internet sites I think may be of interest, and some links to classic reading material that is available online.

In "Seeker Thoughts," I am starting a new blog that isn't confined to telling the story of my life. It is what a blog is supposed to be - whatever pops into my head that I want to write down.

11. Moment of Truth

2005-04-25T16:30:00.000-07:00

It didn't hit me all at once, but that's what it felt like. I vividly remember the moment I decided to leave the ministry.

It had been building up for a long, long time, as I had become increasingly aware that there was nothing uniquely supernatural about the Christian experience; no supernatural power to change lives, no divine nature imparted at the moment of conversion - no real evidence that any of what we were preaching was true.

The missionary girl had been ordered back to the USA for insubordination, because she had failed to keep her promise to break off the blooming relationship with her Mexican convert. She remained there for a few weeks until the young man sent her a plane ticket back to Mexico.

The Pastor called to inform me that she was, at that moment, on a plane headed my way. He chuckled and said, "Son, you sure do get yourself into some fine messes." I answered, "Well, I do have some help getting into them," referring to the missionaries and all their crap I'd had to deal with. But The Pastor misunderstood me, and thought I was referring to him.

"Wait just a minute, son. I didn't ask you to have those girls come work for you. You came to me about that."

I had never really thought about blaming him for any of the trouble the missionaries had given me; on the contrary, I was honored that he would send them to me for field training, and felt I had let him down by failing to provide leadership strong enough to keep them all in line.

The fact that the statement he had just made was blatantly false might be overlooked as faulty memory, but what bothered me deeply was the fact that he was so ready to excuse himself at even a perceived hint at that idea - as if he'd already rehearsed his answer.

Incidents and actions I had tried to ignore in the past came flooding to my mind, making it abruptly clear to me that The Pastor was nothing but another corrupt, disreputable scam artist, trying to cover his own ass. I had gone out on a limb under his authority, and at the slightest threat, he was ready to saw off the branch to protect his own reputation.

Everything about the ministry suddenly repulsed me. It wasn't about helping people; it was about power, money, image building, and manipulation. It was bullshit.

"I want out," I said aloud after hanging up the phone. "I don't want to do this any more."

My wife (now ex-wife) was walking through the room and stopped in front of me. "Out of the ministry, or out of our marriage?" she asked.

I just looked at her. We both knew the only reason I had stayed in the marriage after the first year was because of the ministry. She was staying in it only for the children. It was a failure, and it was getting worse. We both knew the answer.

But I had an $80,000.00 building debt to pay off. There was no way I could leave the ministry with that debt over my head, but there was no way I was staying married to that woman, either. "What the hell?" I thought. "The last 20 years of my life have been a lie. Everything I've lived for and been willing to die for has been a big, ridiculous fairy tale. Why not get out of it with a lie?"

So I bit my lip and said, "Oh, I'm just letting off steam." Then I began executing my plan. I bought $200,000.00 worth of life insurance, told my family we would be returning to the States for furlough at the end of summer, and announced my resignation to the congregation I had started and pastored for the last 8 years.

10. Verbal Molestation

2005-04-17T17:00:00.000-07:00

One of the young missionary girls who came to work for me had been sexually molested by her father for over ten years, until she turned 18 and finally blew the whistle on him. He was a member of the church, and had been a member of several other large fundamentalist churches in the past.

When he was sentenced to prison, he killed himself.

The abuse had been unspeakable and had, understandably, left deep emotional and spiritual scars. While many others in her circumstances would have turned to drug abuse, sexual promiscuity, or suicide, this young woman had struggled valiantly, working her way through college and preparing to be a missionary. Rather than blame God for her misfortunes, she clung desperately to her faith in an attempt to cope.

Still, she had many issues that needed attention from an experienced and qualified counselor. Desperate for love, attention, acceptance, and a feeling of self worth, she struggled with extreme insecurity in all her personal relationships.

She found what she was looking for in one of her young "national" converts. He was good-looking, mature, gentlemanly, and growing spiritually. His family, also among her converts, practically adopted her. But he spoke another language, and was born in a third world country.

Admittedly, the relationship had given me reason for concern. The mothers of both the young man and the young woman had expressed negative sentiments. The young woman's mother worried that her grandchildren would speak a different language and she would be unable to communicate with them. The young man’s mother, being the landlord of the young woman and living in close proximity, had seen certain traits in her that she felt would cause problems if the two were married. Finally, the young woman had made a promise that she seemed overly ready to break at the first opportunity. Given the different cultures and other factors, I felt they should slow things down.

When I dutifully reported this relationship to The Pastor, he was very displeased. Looking back, I can see that he was probably worried, as well. Having been criticized for sponsoring a single female missionary, he had a vested interest in her success. He ordered her back to the United States for a probationary period, where she promised to end the relationship. After a month, the missionary was sent back to the mission field.

When the relationship did not end, my wife (now ex-wife) started a personal campaign against the girl and the family of the young man, as if she had finally found her calling. She watched her every move and threw a fit if she saw the two so much as talking. I called The Pastor for advice, and he instructed me to put the girl on a three-way call in my office while he “counseled” her:

"Do you remember when your father put his penis into your vagina, and into your anus, and into your mouth?" The Pastor asked sternly.

"Yes sir," she sobbed.

"Do you want that to happen to your children?"

"No, sir."

"Then you'd better pay attention to what your pastor is telling you."

Also, during the same conversation:

"Have you been masturbating?"

"No, sir."

"I don't believe you."

I should have stopped him. I’m ashamed that I didn’t. “But he’s the man of God,” I reasoned. He was the boss. It wasn’t my place to question his judgment when dealing with one of his flock. It was for her own good, to keep her out of sin. But nothing I told myself could erase the realization that I had just become an accomplice to verbal molestation, and I felt like I needed a bath.

What a damn fool I was! Nothing can justify his treatment of the girl, and nothing can justify the fact that I stood by and allowed it to take place.

The Pastor’s words were a cruel manipulation of the vulnerable young woman who had been horribly molested for almost half her lifetime; his bogus authority and her pain were the tools he used to bully her into compliance.

But it didn’t work! She wound up marrying the young man, and they now have two beautiful children together. They are still members of a fundamentalist church, and thus not completely out of danger. Nevertheless, I'm glad she followed her heart. She learned to say “NO” to the false authority of self-proclaimed religious leaders, and hopefully she will have the strength to do it again if and when the need arises.

One of the deepest regrets of my life is the part I played in the entire scenario. Less than a year later, I was out of the ministry.

The Pastor is still in the ministry, however, and judging from the link on the title of this story, has not changed his counseling methods.

9. Help Arrives from America

2005-04-16T07:19:00.000-07:00

On a trip to visit me, The Pastor asked if I would like to have two single missionary girls come help in my ministry. They were graduates of the college who had asked him about the possibility of doing this type of work wherever it might be needed. He suggested they consider coming to work for me.

I accepted his offer, and the following week sent a letter to my supporters to ask them to consider supporting them financially.

Single female missionaries were not generally approved of in our circles because, being the less rational sex that females are, it was believed they would become romantically sidetracked and all the money that had invested in sending them to the mission field would be lost, so he was adamant that they were not to become romantically involved with any of the "nationals."

They promised him they would not. Still, it was necessary for him to give them stern warnings. He sat them down in his office and drew a diagram to illustrate their menstrual cycles, explaining that during certain points of their cycle, they would be more susceptible to sexual temptation, or as he put it:

"You girls have something between your legs that is going to get hot, and wet, and swollen, and you are going to get so horny you honk."

Keep in mind that these were two unmarried girls in their mid-20s, living in an environment where even sexual thoughts (lusting) were considered sinful. Women were required to wear loose-fitting, long skirts or dresses. Low necklines were prohibited. Slits in the skirts had to be sewn up. If hard nipples could be detected under a blouse, the girls were reprimanded and humiliated. This is an extremely sexually repressed atmosphere!

He told me what he had said to them and advised me to say the exact same words to them. I told him I didn't think I could put it exactly that way, but I would help keep them in line.

That would prove to be a greater challenge than I anticipated.

8. Faith Begins to Falter

2005-04-14T16:32:00.000-07:00

I loved the adventure of wresting souls from the clutches of Satan. It gave my life purpose and meaning. I tried to judge every activity, every meal, and every minute by whether it would help me, in the long run, to keep more people out of Hell.

I often wept as I prayed for the multitudes on their way to eternal torment. From the roof of my house, I would look out over the world's largest city and feel completely overwhelmed by the thought that no matterwhat I did, I would only be able to see a very small percentage saved. It was like trying to rescue drops of water before they went over NiagaraFalls - no matter how you exhaust yourself scooping bucketfuls of water out the river, the river keeps flowing and the noise of the falls continues to roar from below.

But it began to occur to me that, if all these people were really going to Hell, I seemed to be more concerned about it than God was.

If God wanted to save people so much, why did I have grovel, pray, and beg him to do it?

If God Almighty owned the cattle on a thousand hills and really cared about people's souls, why couldn't I scrape enough money together for a modest church building, though there always seemed to be plenty of money for "the devil's crowd" to open bars and whorehouses?

Any conservative Christian philosophy encourages adherents to use every available resource to save eternal souls. "Life is short, twill soon be past; only what's done for Christ will last," and all that. But God didn'teven bother using those resources at his disposal that would permit free will. He could at least toss a few coins down to some poor missionary slob who is giving it his best shot.

Sure, the bible claims he gave his son to die on the cross for everybody's sins 2,000 years ago. But if it meant that much to him, he ought to protect his investment a little better. Christians don't get off the hook with a one-time missions offering - why should God?

If winning souls to God was so important, why in the world did he have me marry a complaining, nagging, materialistic, bigot who couldn't stand Mexicans and didn't give a damn whether anyone went to Heaven or Hell?

I had prayed and fasted about whom to marry. I had broken up with other girls because I didn't think they were "God's will." I would have been willing to marry a monkey if that's what the Holy Spirit told me to do!

I thought I had a full-proof plan for discovering God's will, complete with chapter and verse for everything:

1. The Word of God (2 Tim. 3:15)

2. The Spirit of God (Rom. 8:14)

3. The Man of God (Heb. 10:7, 17)

What a bunch of crap! I preached that stupid sermon outline to at least 3,000 or 4,000 different people over the years until I found true happiness by ditching the whole thing.

Today, I am married to my high school sweetheart (a beautiful, sensual, sexy redhead who is also a wonderful mother and step mother), deeply and hopelessly in love, happier than I have ever been in my life...and I had to break most of the 10 Commandments to get here.

Thank God I did!

7. Seeds of Destruction

2005-04-14T16:26:00.000-07:00

She never should have entered "the ministry."

It wasn't something she wanted to do; she was manipulated, frightened, and pressured.

It began with a teen revival meeting, in which the evangelist was busy tallying up the "decisions" after an emotional sermon.

He urged the teenagers to come forward and "surrender your lives to the Lord for whatever he wants you to do!" Dozens of impressionable youth "walked the aisle" to the front of the auditorium, where they signed "decision cards," essentially yielding their lives to the leadership of the church. For years afterward, she would constantly be reminded that her life no longer belonged to her - she had "surrendered it to the Lord."

These reminders were reinforced by dreadful stories that were woven into the sermons, warning of impending disaster if God were not obeyed:

A man was "called" to the mission field, but refused to go because of the sacrifices this would mean for his children. Some time later, his five-year-old son crawled under their trailer house, right into a nest of rattlesnakes. He began to scream as they bit him dozens of times in the face and body, until his father was able to drag him out from the house.

In his rush to get the boy into the car and to the hospital, the man failed to notice that his three-year-old son had wandered out behind the car and was playing right behind the rear wheel. Backing out of the driveway, he ran right over the child.

Both of them died, and he no longer had an excuse for not going to the mission field.

Another man was "called to the ministry", and also refused to go because it would mean many sacrifices for his son.

Some time later, they were swimming in the ocean when his son was caught in an undercurrent. For what seemed like an eternity, the boy would be swept out into the deep and then back toward his father again, just out of reach.

He would cry out pitifully for his helpless father, but their outstretched hands could only get within a few feet from each other before he would be carried back out by the current. Back and forth, back and forth, until the boy finally grew so exhausted that he sank beneath the waves.

God effectively eliminated the competition once again.

Other horror stories were told of young people who married “out of God's will" meaning someone not likewise “surrendered.” Their potential was wasted, their lives were ruined, their marriages failed and they were abandoned.

Terrified that God would take vengeance upon her future children, she enrolled in Bible College to prepare for the ministry. However, that didn't spare her from a very unhappy life.

She tried to deny her humanity, but found it impossible not to long for the things she treasured. She knew she was living a lie and often told her husband so, but was spurred on each time she heard another story of God's vengeance on the children of the rebellious.

The marriage that had been arranged and orchestrated by The Pastor was a failure from the beginning. With no real communication during the dating stage of their relationship, both husband and wife were completely surprised by the expectations the other held for life, marriage, and ministry. They wouldn't have even considered marriage had they realized how different those expectations were. By the time they realized this, it was already too late.

She often commented on evangelists and pastors who had six-figure incomes, beautiful homes, and nice cars, wondering aloud why she couldn't have those things. Her hometown pastor lived in a $300,000 house, drove a new Suburban, and had very little involvement with the congregation. No one from the church ever came knocking on his door to ask for money; the lowly staff members dealt with lower-income church members. That was the way the ministry was supposed to be carried on.

She wept often as they traveled around the United States and Canada to raise support, she wept as she and her husband drove across the border into Mexico, and continued weeping for the next 14 years.

En route to their destination, they stopped to spend the night with some missionary friends. The next day, she informed her husband that she would never live in a house like theirs, or in a neighborhood like that one.

While her lifestyle was not luxurious, it was comfortable: She had a maid, a private tutor for her children, medical care from the best hospitals in the country, a three-bedroom, four bathroom house, ate out two or three times each week, and never had to work outside the home. Still, it was in an underdeveloped, third world country, and a far cry from the dreams and expectations she had for her life.

After 36 months, the conflict between what she wanted and what she felt forced to accept drove her to a nervous crisis. Depression and severe anxiety attacks required a brief return to the United States and several weeks under a doctor's care. She refused to see even a "Christian psychologist" (an oxymoron to many fundamentalists, who tend to be very suspicious of psychology - David Hunt was required reading in one of the Bible College classes), and took antidepressants for only 6 months.

Prayer was made by thousands of Christians around the world, but they didn't work. The marriage was still a failure, she was still desperately unhappy, and her husband was becoming perilously disillusioned.

6. Bittersweet

2005-04-09T20:12:00.000-07:00

I am haunted by an irrational sense of failure for having left something I once loved, and at the same time plagued by a feeling of foolishness for having loved it in the first place.

I sincerely, fervently believed I had been called by God to a third-world country to rescue the souls of its people from an everlasting Hell.

This belief drove me day and night, consumed me, almost destroyed me, and ultimately shattered my faith.

Below is a link to a series of letters I wrote to my supporters during my 14-year tenure as a Baptist missionary. I include them because they cover those years of my life, and because I want whoever might read this to have an insight into the mind of a fundamentalist.

I also include them because I loved these people, and still do. While a part of me wants to apologize to them for introducing them to fundamentalism, another part of me realizes it was that very fundamentalism that took me to them, and my life was immesurably enriched by having them in it.

http://bittersweetstories.blogspot.com/

5. The Initiated

2005-04-03T09:27:00.000-07:00

After graduation, I immediately entered the professional ministry (the misnomer "full-time" ministry is a more common term). At this juncture, I was initiated into a new world, the real world of preachers, the world not revealed to the commoners and laity.

I learned that there were jokes preachers can tell to one another, but not to the "uninitiated." I learned there were words preachers could use in each other's presence, but not among the laity. I learned that there were attitudes under the surface that could not be revealed to the congregation.

Most of the preachers I encountered in the south expressed some form of racial prejudice, but some were more emphatic than others.

One church in Arkansas held to the doctrine that black people do not have souls because they were descended from an illicit relationship between Cain and his wife - a green ape.

This church was completely out of the circle of fundamentalists with whom I associated, and the pastor of another church I preached in across town was very critical of them. He definitely believed that blacks had souls - he just didn't like them in his church, which severely limited his congregation,since the town had a very high African-American population.

As the godly minister expressed it, "Living in this town won't make you prejudiced, it'll just make you hate niggers."

The pastor of another church in Arkansas where I preached instructed me before visitation on Saturday morning, "You can lead blacks to the Lord if you want to, but don't bring them to church with you tomorrow."

I checked around town that day: none of them wanted to come, anyway.

A much friendlier pastor in Maryland loved blacks. After all, they gave us "nigger" jokes. And he had a million of 'em. Of course, they were reserved for the clergy - he wouldn't have even laughed at the jokes had they been told by a nonbeliever.

After being initiated, The Pastor let me know I was accepted by using words in my presence that he never used among the congregation, and even preached publicly that Christians should never use. Only in the presence of the initiated did I ever hear him say the words, "twat," "dick," "pussy,""son-of-a-bitch" or tell off-color stories.

I felt so privileged to be taken into his confidence.

Some of the best dirty jokes I ever heard were from the missionary I went to work for.
Bubba and Darryl were sitting on the porch when one of them saw a dog licking its own member.

"Man, I wish I could do that," Bubba drawled.

"Don't you try it, Bubba," Darryl answer, "that hound dog's a mean one."

Hey, I have nothing against dirty jokes or crude language - just with hypocrisy. I still don't do racial jokes, though.

The missionary turned about to be homosexual. He left the mission field temporarily when two boys came forward with their stories of sexual abuse. He later returned to the mission field with a different group of fundamentalists.

For all the preaching on family, holiness, and the power of God at the church where I was a member for almost 20 years, most of the associate pastors who have adult children are estranged from at least one of them,and the College Dean's son committed suicide.

Two of the College Professors, a few of the graduates, the missionary I worked for, and at least one of the American pastors I preached for turned out to be child molesters. One graduate of the College is in jail for robbing banks, and another for murdering his wife. Two sons of one of my best pastor friends (they were his youth pastor and Spanish pastor) are in jail for beating an 11-year-old- boy nearly to death for misbehaving at church camp.

In my limited experience, after preaching in over 300 different churches and meeting thousands of preachers during 16 years of professional ministry, I have never known a group of people more laden with gossip, pettiness, backbiting, political ambition, hypocrisy, egotism, and social dysfunction than preachers. There are many exceptions, to be sure, but they are definitely not the rule.

Not what one would expect to find among the clergy of a religion that claims transformed lives and divine power over sin upon conversion.

So much for the Lord's Special Forces.

So much for the power of a transformed life.

It took years, but it finally hit me- it just doesn't work. It's not real.

POSTSCRIPT 5/26/06:
Another Preacher acquaintance in jail for child molestation.

4. Preparing for Marriage

2005-03-28T19:14:00.001-08:00

For Bible College students wishing to go out on a date, it was necessary to submit a request form to the appropriate office at least 48 hours in advance. Required information included: name of your date, departure and return times, destination, and most importantly, the names of your chaperones.

Couples were not permitted to single date, and in order to be approved, the chaperones had to be trustworthy enough to rat on you if you were to do anything inappropriate, such as breaking the six-inch rule. The "six-inch rule" specified that members of the opposite sex were to maintain a safe physical distance of at least six inches. Shaking hands at church was specifically allowed as an exception to this rule.

Members of the opposite sex were not allowed to be alone in a car, classroom, or even in the church auditorium. On campus, sitting together beyond hearing distance from other students was permitted, as long as the couple was not out sight.

One morning at the beginning of the Chapel service, the College Vice President made a shocking announcement: Some of the students had found a way to circumvent the dating rules - the mall!

Two couples would go to the mall together, but once there, would split up and stroll around the mall without chaperones, sometimes as long as a full 90 minutes. "What could be the harm in that?" You might ask. "What kind of gross immorality are you going to commit in a public mall full of people?" Ah, but the mall is filled with people of "the world". A couple might hold hands or even kiss, and not one of those worldly people would even think to report it to the College faculty.

The VP ranted for 15 minutes or so about the sin of single dating at the mall, and this was followed by a sermon. After chapel, I went straight to his office to confess. I had no idea I had done something wrong until his announcement sermon showed me the error of my ways! The VP assured me that it wasn't me he was worried about - it was those who had NOT come to his office to confess that had him concerned.

From reading these blog entries, one might think that all relationships between members of the opposite sex were discouraged. On the contrary, there was a lot of pressure to find a wife before graduation. We were encouraged to put off the actual marriage until after graduation, but it was made clear to us that our ministries would be limited by the lack of a spouse.

What was not made clear was how, without ever spending time alone, and without broaching any taboo subject, two people were supposed to get to know one another well enough to marry and stay married for the rest of their lives.

The relationships were orchestrated and guided by the Pastor and Faculty, who carefully absolved themselves of responsibility by giving an interminable and unrealistic list of do's and don'ts. If the marriage succeeded, it was due to the wise counsel the couple received. If the marriage failed, they could always point to the list and say, "They were told what to do and paid no attention, so it's their own fault the marriage failed."

So every year after College graduation, a rash of marriages would take place between young couples who had never kissed or held hands, whose conversations had been extremely limited in scope, and who had practically no idea what the other expected from the marriage beyond the class notes given them by The Pastor.

The results were sometimes disastrous.

3. The Holy Spirit Leads Through His Men

2005-03-25T05:37:00.001-08:00

I was called into the office of one of the college professors to discuss mygirlfriend. The girl had been observed wearing blouses with necklines not quite "up" to par. Now, we are not talking about cleavage here. She'd have been expelled for that. But there was a little bit of collarbone showing, and quite frankly, she was a pretty chesty gal. Couldn't help it, poor girl; it was the way God made her. Plus, she had to take steroids for her asthma – I’ve heard that can have certain effects on growth, though I don’t know for sure.

Nevertheless, she had been mildly reprimanded once, and this had resolved the problem for a few days. But then she met The Professor in the hall and inadvertently tugged at the shoulders of her dress to raise the neckline a little - a sure sign she was deliberately trying to attract the gaze of men with her breasts while hiding her evil intentions from the college faculty.

I was taken aback by this revelation. I've always been a leg man myself, and honestly didn't notice the faux pas until it was pointed out to me.

What should I do? Should I say something to her about it?

" No," The Professor counseled, she would change it just to keep me, andthen "somewhere down the line when you're in the ministry, she'll walk outof the bathroom with a pair of britches on and say, 'Whatcha gonna do about it?"

Britches on women were, of course, the ultimate sign of rebellion. They symbolized the unisex movement, the gay rights movement, the women's lib movement, etc. It scared me to death! How close I had come to ruining my ministry!

So I made it a matter of prayer. But God wasn't listening, because I already knew what I should do. The man of God had spoken. My only choice was to break up with her. I hated to hurt her, but there was no other option. God himself was telling me what to do.

A couple days later in The Professor's class, he spoke about the leading of the Holy Spirit. He explained that, while we didn't believe in extra-biblical revelation, the Holy Spirit could nevertheless lead us in a somewhat definite manner.

By way of illustration, he told of a college boy who came to him for counseling.

"I have this problem," the boy explained.

In The Professor's other ear, the Holy Spirit whispered, "Psst....Ask him if it's masturbation."

"Is it...masturbation?" The Professor asked gently.

Bingo! This guy was really in tune with God. He put the fear of God in us all that day. He wasn’t flirting with the charismatic movement and didn’t call it the gift of discernment, so it was definitely NOT okay not to believe him.

"What is the Holy Spirit speaking to you about right now?" he asked the class. He mentioned a couple of specifics. "Is he telling you to change majors? Is he calling you to preach?" Then the shocker, "Is he telling you to...break up with her?"

I was on a three-way phone call with The Professor and the Holy Spirit! How could he possibly know what God had been telling me?

It never even occurred to me that it could have something to do with the fact that the professor and I had discussed it earlier that week. I could never even dare think that he would so blatantly try to manipulate me.

Naïve? Absolutely. I was 18 years old, believed God had led me to this place, and that I was commanded to submit to the church authority divinely placed over me.

So, I went to see The Pastor. Such a big decision should not be made without seeking counsel from the main man of God, even though I had heard from one of the lesser men of God already.

After telling him my story, he announced that I should definitely break up with the girl. Not only was she out to get herself a man with those big breasts, her asthma would be a hindrance on the mission field.

But, he added, it would be a good idea to not mention to anyone the fact that he had advised me to break up with her. That might hinder her family and friends from heeding his counsel on other matters. We wouldn't want to do anything that would undermine his authority, or his ability to pastor them.

So I took the fall in front of her parents, who were also students in the college (and who suggested I get counseling – they thought I’d lost it), her best friend, and the goofy nerd who was trying to get her best friend to go out with him by sucking up.

I told them God had led me to break up with her, and that was all I could say. I believed it to be the truth.

I felt the satisfaction of a martyr as I protected The Pastor from the repercussions of his own counsel.

I saw her years later, happily married, serving the Lord with her husband, and with a passel of kids, and sure enough, she WAS in a pair of britches! Hmmm, maybe The Professor DID have the gift of discernment, after all.

2. Split Chapel

2005-03-24T16:55:00.000-08:00

"Chapel," a mid-day preaching service held at 10:00 am Monday throughFriday, served as a diversion from the preaching services that comprised our Bible classes.

When a "split chapel" session was announced, which meant that the males and females would be directed into separate services, we all knew what thesubject matter would be - masturbation! Now we were really in for some hard preaching (no pun intended).

In my first split chapel, the preacher launched into this "touchy" subject with the opener, "Summa you boys over at the dorm been warshin' yerprivates a little too long, if you know what I mean!"

I swear, I don't know how he thought we could get ever away with it in the dorm bathroom, with gang showers and door-less toilet stalls!

Years later, a friend of mine who attended another fundamentalist college related the story to me of a chapel service in which my college President counseled the young men to avoid this temptation by putting their penis on the edge of the toilet and slamming the lid on it. Rumor has it that slamming toilet lids and blood-curdling screams could be heard all over the men's dorms that night as the young ministers of the Gospel fought to keep their little rebels in subjection.

It was good advice, for as I heard another preacher say in one of these"split chapel" sermons, "A stiff prick has no conscience!"

It took a man with God-given boldness to stand up and say that.

They were in sort of a bind, though. Fundamentalists must have chapter and verse for everything - not necessarily a "thou shalt not" verse mind you, but at least a clearly stated principle. Since masturbation is never even hinted at in the Bible, many attempts were made to find Bible principles to justify their prohibitions against the practice.

The lamest of these attempts I ever heard was given by The Pastor in a Bible class. Usually, the proof text would be announced, everyone would find the passage in their Bibles, andthen it would be read aloud and commented on. This one, however, was just mentioned in passing. Trusting the wisdom of the Man of God, I assumed this was because of the sensitive nature of the subject matter until I looked it up later. The verse read, "Thou shalt not cause thy seed to pass through the fires of Molech." I guess that means if the semen goes anywhere but the intended receptacle, the devil gets it. Another "proof text" along those lines had to do with an incident of coitus interruptus in the book of Genesis.

One preacher I heard at a youth camp reasoned that the biblical prohibition of "fornication" includes "all sex outside the bonds of marriage," and masturbation, being "self sex," is prohibited in the same context.

"If that's the case, " I remember wondering, "who are you having sex with in a nocturnal emission?" It also bears questioning whether Jesus would have considered it grounds for divorce based on what he supposedly said in Matthew chapter 19.

In another sermon I heard years later while on the mission field, the preacher declared that masturbation is the "ultimate homosexuality" since it consists of a man giving sexual gratification to a man. Of course, homosexuality is clearly condemned in the Bible, so he had his biblical premise!

I was afraid to wipe my own ass after that one. I mean, what if I enjoyed it too much?

The lack of biblical basis was not much of a stumbling block, though. Admitting you really couldn't see this truth in the Bible was tantamount to a confession of guilt, so we went along with it, trying to out-shout each other with undisputed "amens" to all the ridiculous attempts at involving God in this bizarre, sexually repressed bandwagon. The emperor's clothes were lovely, indeed.

One preacher in the area who began to flirt with the charismatic movement got the idea that he had the gift of discernment and could tell just by shaking hands if someone was guilty. I didn't really believe he had the gift of discernment - it was okay to doubt him since he got the idea from another group.

Still, I stayed away from the guy, just in case!

He must have been getting a lot of vibes from those handshakes, because he eventually became convinced it was the primary stumbling block to revival in America, and began holding special masturbation seminars in some of the area churches. Well, he didn't call them that, of course. He was basically just taking the "split chapel" concept out of Bible College and into the congregations at large.

Only he didn't always split them. He once preached on the subject in our Christian school and revival broke out, with dozens of teen boys and girls "hitting the altar" to repent of their hidden sin.

It seemed that the more audacious we could be in specifically naming sin, the better; the more obscure the truth we found, the wiser we were. So, though not everyone went along with it, lots of fundy leaders took delight in waging war on the sins of oral sex, mixed-race marriages, and other indicators of America's toboggan ride to Hell.

The deeper these truths were hidden in the Bible, the more precious they were to God - and, of course, to the preachers who discovered them.

1. The Beginning: Bible College Days

2005-03-23T16:05:00.000-08:00

Convinced I had been divinely led to the Bible college where I enrolled to prepare for the ministry, I was the perfect candidate for manipulation – I was young, had not grown up in a strict religious environment, and had only been “saved” a short time – about 2 years. I went to college eager for intense training and strict discipline.

The college was known for its discipline, and the Founder/President/Pastor was renowned for his Vietnam-era military service. The Pastor had developed his own personality cult following while working for other well-known fundamentalist leaders before taking a pastorate where plenty of money was available to launch his own nation-wide “ministry.” He followed protocol, immediately starting a school and college and hiring a large staff. The college students and staff were required to be active in evangelism, and helped set the standard for the long list of separatist “convictions” he was promoting – short hair on the men, long dresses on the women, etc.

The staff he hired were loyalists from his previous positions. With cash flow from the school and college tuitions, he was able to weed out the moderate-leaning church members who wielded influence with their money, thus securing his control while increasing the all-important conversion/ baptism statistics, which were used to promote the college abroad.

Every week, the Pastor traveled around the country to preach at various churches, trumpeting the work of God at his college (accomplished, of course, by the students sent by these churches and staff paid by their tuition), whereby star-struck students would gladly pay to work and study there, anxious to be under this obviously anointed man of God.

The school boasted that it was run like a military operation. The military theme was recurrent, and two or three times each year the entire staff would dress in military fatigues in keeping with Veteran’s Day and other special services.

The schedule was rigorous: I worked 40, 50, or 60 hours a week to pay my tuition, and attended class from 7 am or 8 am until 12 pm or 1 pm, five days per week. Classes usually consisted of an hour of preaching on whatever subject we were studying. On Saturdays, I would attend ministry meetings from 7 am – 9 am and then spent from 6 to 8 hours doing church visitation and evangelism. On Sundays, I would arrive at the church around 6:30 am to get my Sunday school bus ready and leave by 7 am. After church services, it would take me until 2:00 –2:30 pm to get my route dropped off and get home. In the afternoons, I would leave at 5:00 pm for a night route and take them home again after services, finishing up around 8:30 pm, just in time to preach a couple of quick sermons on the street corner before going back to the dormitory.

Often I would miss lunch and/or supper. Dorm meals were served only at certain times, and if you missed the meal, you were just out of luck. But you could sign up for sack lunches, which usually consisted of two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, a cookie, and an apple.

I subsisted on an average of 4 hours’ sleep, and on a few occasions went 24-48 hours with no sleep at all.

I was testing my limits, and literally loving every minute of it. I loved the community, the challenge, and the satisfaction of using all my heart, soul, mind, and strength to serve God.

I was also setting myself up for classic brainwashing techniques.

We willingly subjected ourselves to sleep deprivation, malnutrition, isolation, and lack of privacy (we didn’t even have doors on the toilet stalls), in an environment where no questioning of the leadership was allowed on the part of the students, and anything that contradicted our ideology was prohibited (reading and listening materials were submitted to staff for approval).

Brainwashed? Our brains were dirty and needed washing. Cultic? That was just an accusation leveled by middle-of-the-road Christians who knew nothing of true commitment.

We were the Lord’s Special Forces unit – rough and ready soldiers for Christ, armed with the true Gospel and willing to bear any hardship to carry it to the ends of the earth, saving poor lost souls from Hell.