Church hurt

Church hurt - we read a lot about it these days. I had heard about it in the past - mostly from the perspective of those sneering at "church hoppers" or those sorts of people who "didn't bother to come to church anymore." Seeing it from the other side has been eye-opening and heart-opening.  When the church doesn't behave like Jesus, it is not surprising that there IS real hurt and abuse. When the church doesn't behave like Jesus, it is also not surprising that it is shrinking.

After Thanksgiving my daughter and I had an interesting talk about some church abuse that targeted our family in particular.  After a series of events described below where I eventually became labeled a heretic for not being a Calvinist and Christian nationalist, my son-in-law received a phone call.  After not speaking to my daughter and her husband in a year, the pastor suddenly called and wanted to do lunch with them. My son-in-law instantly countered, "Is this about Glynis?" to which the pastor stammered and had to admit that he was "concerned" about my influence on them. She talked to an in-law who is a professional Christian counselor about it on Thanksgiving and he right away called a spade a spade: Abuse. That pastor was deliberately trying to cause division in my family. That hurt. As  you will read below, there was much before, but that was truly abusive.

Once upon a time I went to a church that said, "You can teach exercise classes here, but NO YOGA." Yoga, you see, was "evil" and bad. (I'm a yoga teacher. I'm also educated and I know it's not evil).

Once upon a time, I went to a church that taught that God "cannot look on sin" even though in Amos, after that little phrase, it states that He clearly does! Context is important!

Once upon a time, I went to a church that treated the gospel as a ticket to heaven.  The gospel was all about the ticket to heaven and being able to live eternally... EVEN THOUGH that is not what the Bible says the Gospel is.

This church taught that if you or your loved ones or random people far away in random countries did not "accept Christ" that they were doomed to conscious eternal torment in hell. You are supposed to assume that, if there will be no more tears in heaven, that you will somehow no longer care for those loved ones who didn't make the cut and were enduring unspeakable horror forever because in the brief 70 or so years of life (or even less) they did not make the decision.

I remember when, after serving the church faithfully in various positions for decades - Children's Church teacher and director, AWANA commander and Sparks Director, VBS teacher, Christmas play organizer/director, maker of pies for funerals, meals for the sick - my husband died and I was newly widowed. My husband had always done all the outdoor work at our home and I was clueless. It was mid autumn I decided to approach my pastor if there was anyone would could help me because didn't know how to clean gutters, there were some sketchy looking branches that I thought needed to be cut; I also needed just some male advice on winterizing and things that I should be doing/learning how to do.  Instead, when I approached him the very first thing he said to me was, "We don't pay mortgage payments."  I was stupefied with shock - not once had we ever, EVER asked for money. Even though I was on a very limited income at the time I was a new widow, I was still giving and was giving to the monthly benevolence offering as well to help others who might need to pay bills or get groceries. Stunned, I mumbled about how, oh no, that's not what I was asking and fumbled my way through my cluelessness about outdoor needs and home maintenance.  Nothing came of it.

 A friend of mine and her husband, who was now a trustee, like my husband once was, asked if I needed anything and I told him about the trees and I was concerned with the roof.  He even arranged for one of the elders to come look at my trees to see what might need to be done. The elder blew me off with an, "I'll call when I get back from Canada" which he never did.  Another elder who was assigned to me (different families are assigned to different elders) never bothered to check on me even once in 5 years after Pat's death, (Although his wife was a huge help when I needed to clean awful water out of the swimming pool). When my husband was alive, he joined two other men in putting a roof on a single mom from the church who had limited income's home. I couldn't even get help with my gutters or advice! 

Three years after my widowhood, my granddaughter was diagnosed with cancer and the ladies of the church made freezer meals for my daughter's family to make life easier on them during all of the appointments and long days at the hospital for treatments. The women did dive in to provide help that they were able to give to my daughter and her family - and so often in a church, it is the women who do these things. 

Somehow during all of the stressful times, the children in my  children's church class asked me to please direct another play for them because they said they missed me doing it the last year.  Of course, I did because I loved these children and always enjoyed working with them.  I worked my tail off  and when the annual report came out in January a glowing little piece was written about the play that year --- and then someone turned to point out to me that a woman who didn't participate was given the credit and my name wasn't mentioned at all. I was never looking for recognition and yet there was no doubt that it hurt.

Enter the pandemic and the Christian nationalism oozes out of the woodwork. Oozes is a poor choice of words, it burst forth like a geyser! There was the biggest uproar from some of the deaconesses and a worship leader about having to wear masks and about "our rights" being taken away. I found that I was surrounded by women sharing conspiracy theories (even the pastor's wife in a Bible study). Truly ignorant conspiracy theories, ones that could be debunked within moments. Spreading FEAR. I reacted strongly to that and later was chastised by the group leader for 'leaving lash marks" because I strongly, emphatically said it was a poor witness to the world. She said that "she and others had felt" that a post I shared about anti-mask divisiveness was directed at a certain person (who I happened to have very civilized debates/conversations with and who had mutually agreed to "hide" each other's feeds, so it was definitely not because she would not being seeing it).  I then confronted her on gossiping with the clique rather than discussing it with me first. It was truth and she was caught in it,  then apologized  These women - the pastor's wife, a worship leader, a deaconess, a Sunday school teacher - were continually sharing Christian nationalist propaganda from Charlie Kirk, Candace Owens, Tucker Carlson, and general "news" stories mocking liberals and anyone who didn't agree with their side. I said it was wrong, it was ungodly and it was giving the world a very, very bad witness. It was fear-mongering and the pastor called it "opinion."  I was a zealot, horrified about what I was seeing the church I had loved so long decay into. I watched non-Christians turn away from Christ in disgust because of these things. I still stand by how wrong it is and how it must be stopped.  Jesus gave us an example as a suffering servant, not a "don't tread on me!" rebel worried over the discomfort of a mask while the goal was to protect people from dying. Meanwhile, the worship leader painted an enormous portrait of Donald Trump departing Air Force One.  It was then I knew I was not ever returning. That was May 2020. In July, I wrote a formal letter of resignation and emailed it.

But, lest one should think not going to that church would make a difference, the pastor kept engaging with theological items that I shared and pushing Calvinism. The pastor sent me messages asking me to come in and meet with the elders to discuss my disturbing turn of theology, I didn't hold to Calvinism and I had been reading books by people they called heretics, such as Rob Bell. He lied and told the elders that I didn't believe in substitutionary atonement when I had clearly and repeatedly said that I did not hold to the doctrine of PENAL substitution, that I was more aligned with Christus Victor. When I refused a request on my newsfeed to come sit with the elders, he unfriended me on FB. I later ran into him at a local coffee shop with his daughters.  I was with a friend who pointed them out saying, "Who are those kids glaring at you?" They were staring daggers at me - kids that I had always loved and gotten along very well with. I smiled, they looked away.  We had to walk over to that side of the counter to get our drinks. The pastor looked down. Daughters glared. I said, "Hello! How are you?" cheery and friendly because that is the polite, Christlike and human thing to do.  He looked down, muttered a hello, never looking at me and hustled his children quickly away.  My friend remarked, "Geesh, and that guy is supposed to be a PASTOR??????"  Great witness for my friend, great witness for his own children.  It's very, very sad. But, if you idolize a medieval lawyer who had his own friend burned alive for disagreeing with his personal doctrine, it is no surprise. I did not expect better and generally feel sorry for him.

Eventually, I receive a letter, supposedly from all the church board - I still wonder about that - which continued the lie of me not believing in substitutionary atonement. The letter was telling me that if I didn't come sit down with the elders to talk about these things, that they had no choice but to remove me from the membership roll  HELLO?! I had resigned my membership months before. It also mentioned my not believing in "hell" - and I don't believe in the hell of the Christian fundamentalists who have morphed a pagan concept into the bizarre doctrine they hold today which pits this wrathful god who hates sin so much that after a mere 70 years on the earth that he throws people who don't accept him into eternal, conscious torment for time without end. I've done a great deal of research into the language, the literary form, the context, the culture and well, holding that doctrine assassinates the character of God and turns him into a petty monster. THAT is heresy.

This is why people are leaving the white evangelical church.  You can pour yourself out in love for your church body and your community, but you are really only as good to them as you are useful. You are only as good them as you are able to tolerate the conspiracy theories they spread and turn a blind eye to the way they trash the name of Jesus to the world by their worship of far right politics and engagement in mockery and scorn.  Part of me wants to link the 4th of July message from the senior pastor where he calls liberals and democrats evil more than once.... as if the conservative not loving immigrants and welcoming foreigners is not evil?? As if not mocking the leadership of the country publicly rather than showing respect is not evil? 

You can't teach yoga, but you can mock and spread lies about political leaders and public health officials. You can't teach yoga, but you can lie and grossly misrepresent someone's beliefs. You can't teach yoga, but you can be a poor public witness and teach your kids to behave hatefully without correction. You can't teach yoga, but you can blow off a widow who has given decades of time/energy in service to your church.  You can't teach yoga, but you can be in leadership positions and spout vial hatred, mockery, and spread division on the internet and still teach Sunday school and still lead worship. 

And you wonder why your church is shrinking?

In peace, be still - a break from struggles - Part I, Recap

 Peace - it had long seemed like an elusive, ethereal thing. I tend to strive, to move ever forward, to struggle to arrive at some place, some goal...and I suppose to achieve peace. In stillness, I'm finding it and will hopefully learn how to operate in it.  

Prior to Pat's passing, we had been in a state of continual change and perpetual grief. One loved one after another passed away. Parents, siblings, nephews, friends, pets.  Pat's job of 20 years had done some restructuring and middle management had targets on their backs and eventually he was hit. Babies were being born. In the half dozen years leading up to Pat's death we were truly living out the sandwich generation, taking care of my dad while helping with grandchildren and still had our youngest in school. I had gone back to school and completed my bachelor's and master's degrees along with venturing back into the work force. 

We had just been settling into an empty nest, rediscovering our appreciation for one another and the joys of being "us" that stress had nearly beaten out of us. While we had always been 100% a team, joy had gotten buried by life's demands and the onslaught of woes. The ultimate tragedy hit when the eight day ordeal of Pat's heart attack and death hit.  I then found myself alone - alone to face the tumult. 

It didn't stop. Newly widowed, never having lived on my own, I was facing life without a partner. Before Pat passed, I had applied for and accepted a very low paying job at a Christian school to start my teaching career. It didn't matter how low the pay because we had his income and this would be to build for our retirement. It was a good place to begin my resident educator program and we both looked forward to my first classroom. That school and those wonderful students gave me something to live for and look forward to each day -- except for a workplace bully who targeted me and was intent on destroying me. I was living off of the life insurance and learning to navigate life on my own. It was difficult, very difficult but the Lord sustained me. 

From there, struggles and challenges abounded. Each year I aimed to find a position that would financially make ends meet. Fell headlong into a relationship with a narcissist and endured a painful extrication. In trying to avoid a repeat of the same (the love bombing, the faithlessness, the gaslighting, etc.), I found myself in a relationship with the first man I'd ever encountered who truly had a fear of commitment and an inability to give and receive love in a healthy way. He was the opposite of the other as far as verbal expression goes; no grand romantic gestures from him to be wary of.  Instead it was like being in an emotional desert, needing a sip of cool water but faced with parched soil on every side. Both of these men struggled with depression, and empath that I am, my impulse is to try to heal, try to save.  I learned - to my own pain - that unless someone wants to help themselves, there is no helping them.  

I think much of the pain I felt during these years was self-inflicted by my own inability to set boundaries and see my own value. I had to learn that it is okay to want healthy love and affirmation. And learn I did - and I don't regret the experiences I've had that have brought me to this place. After being a child who went from home directly to a 33 year marriage, I hadn't lived on my own, hadn't know what it was like to "be." This season became my school room where I learned to navigate my new solo journey through life. Funny thing happened - I discovered it's okay, it's not bad, and I don't hate being alone. I'd rather be by myself than be tied to a man who doesn't respect me or others. After all, I had a 33 year marriage to a man who loved me, a friend who understood teamwork and the sacrifices/rewards of the union, I don't need to settle for less. 

A friend once told me that it seemed to take most people 5 years to find a teaching job that "fit," where they felt valued, respected, and had most financial needs met.  The first four years following Pat's death, I certainly did experience that. I was in two great environments initially (the first  -minus the bully). One could not sustain me financially, even partially, and the second, I had to leave to get out of that bad relationship). After that, I had varying experiences to get where I am now. All the while, I loved the teaching part but I must say, there are shady charter schools and administrations out there. It is easy to see why teachers are leaving the field in droves. I have tales that could curl your hair but that is not for now.

Enter year 5 - in a truly miraculous, wild turn of events, I found myself hired and working at a school I'd wanted to work at since substitute teaching there years before. And I found home!  I had not known it could happen after all I'd been through, but I made it to a place with an administration that truly cares, a friendly and welcoming staff, an exciting teaching position, and a diverse body of students. I'm in my second year now...I've come along way now from constant yearly change, from fragile finances, and job insecurity.

While learning to handle life without a committed partner and landing the right job were major parts of the struggles, there were other things.  Family matters were huge.  We all had to navigate the loss of a very important person in our lives - and my children had children. Babies were born, children entered school, Leesi had cancer, marriages struggled, ended, renewed. Three of the grandchildren will never know him; he will always be just a character in our stories and that is so tragic a thought. We came together, we pulled apart, we came together again. The glue? We love each other fiercely.  When push comes to shove, we are there for each other.  There were so many tears, so much fear and tragedy - but there was also love and laughter.  

I found a post I wrote a while back in 2018.  I was going through an eased up time and wondering when the other shoe would drop - while struggling very hard NOT to be worrying about the whole shoe drop thing. My deconstruction experience fits in with this because at the time I was in a church that was tilting further and further into Calvinism - that theology holds with it no peace at all.  One might speak of eternal security, but it is one of the most insecure belief systems one could ever get sucked into.  I certainly didn't head into it voluntarily.  My church was hijacked and slowly steered into Reformed Theology . When we had initially joined, the denomination as a whole leaned toward Arminianism. In the midst of all I was going through, Christ was a solid rock but the church I attended seemed to be sinking sand.