Adventures in Recovery ~ Souvenirs From The Circus

June 16, 2011 By Leave a Comment

by Calulu

Remember when you were a kid and would go to the circus or the carnival? Sure, there were elephants and chimps, usually crapping everywhere. The air was scented with cotton candy, popcorn and the smell of animals. I remember the games, balloons, darts, tossing things. Besides the lion tamers and the freak show part of the carnival there were usually fortune tellers, people that would look at your palm or into a cheap hunk of round glass and predict you’d meet a tall, dark and handsome stranger. It was exciting and thrilling, wasn’t it, when you were a kid?

When I was a member of Possum Creek Christian Fellowship we used to have something like that, but we called it a ‘conference’. Sometimes there were people there that purported to hear from God for you. They didn’t have crystal balls or tea leaves in the bottom of delicate porcelain cups.

At first I thought it was as equally ridiculous as the palm readers and fortune tellers of the circus even if you weren’t being told something as mundane as the ‘tall dark and handsome’ thing. I recall scoffing over it, saying there was no earthly way the things you were being told were real. But eventually, with enough time and drinking the Kool-Aid I started to believe in these ecclesiastical fortune tellers too.

I’d forgotten about this aspect of my old life until this week. I spent the week clearing out the large storage room over our garage. It’s being set up as my design studio, with all my art supplies, drawing desk and computers for those side jobs I’ve been taking on recently to supplement my studio and teaching income. I found a box that contained my old Bible and various tracts, photos and journals from my years at PCCF.

One of the more interesting bits were three pages of notes from an intense ministry weekend that my husband James and I attended about seven and half years ago. You have to realize this wasn’t long after James had confessed to a depression so deep that it made him consider suicide. He wasn’t long out of the mental ward. None of us knew at that point that it was a combination of internal dissonance between what he knew and believed and what the men of our church were pressuring him to believe. We didn’t know about his chemical imbalance due to a parathyroid gland tumor. We just knew he was deeply unhappy when our life was nearly perfect in most ways.

At a conference at RCCF a big ministry from the Wilmington, North Carolina area was claiming to heal people of depression and many other ‘spiritual’ problems by deliverance ministry, prophetic words from God and prayer. Somehow James got to talking to them and before I knew it scheduled us to go down for a ‘deliverance’ on Thanksgiving weekend.

I was furious, even if I did at that time believe people with various prophetic words for me that were supposedly from the Lord. I was furious I was being drug away from my children during a family holiday for something I did not want to do. I felt no need for ‘deliverance’. Part of me seriously feared what they might say.

We went. It wasn’t helpful, it was just all kinds of weird. It might have fit in well with a freak show or circus somewhere.

Filed Under: Adventures in Recovery, Alienation, Boundaries, Christian Modesty, Denim Jumpers, Depression, Drinking the Koolaid, Fundamentalism, Gender Equality, Isolation, Legalism, NLQ Stories, Personal Autonomy, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Quiverfull & the Bible, Quiverfull Discernment, Self-Abnegation / Martydom, Self-Righteousness, Shunning, Spiritual Abuse & Recovery, Spiritual Issues, Toxic Relationships Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , Leave a Comment

No Charity in the Remnant ~ Part 5: They had freedom and liberty and so many choices …

June 9, 2011 By

by Whisper Rain

Whisper’s parents went to the church they’d heard about on Sunday morning. When they got home, they were cautiously optimistic. Maybe this was the right place for them. Maybe the Rains could finally fit in somewhere, and be a part of something that would be a good, godly influence on their family. Maybe some new friends would be good for the children, especially Whisper. It was drastic… but it seemed like it was time for something drastic.

When the next Sunday rolled around, Whisper’s parents were much more picky than usual about the kids’ clothes. Yes, the girls were wearing skirts but… they’d better take off their jewelry too. And the boys had better wear button up shirts and keep them tucked in. Whisper started getting worried. It was a long drive to this church, and before they got there, her parents turned around and gave everybody another nervous once over.

They pulled into the parking lot. The church building was very plain and immaculate white. Even the gravel in the parking lot was flawless… not a pothole to be seen. The parking lot was full of well-kept vehicles. There were a lot of maxi vans there. A few people were standing around talking while they made their way to the building, and at the sight of them, Whisper’s heart fell into her shoes. Beards. Carefully combed hair. White head coverings. Homemade dresses. Charity people. She could hardly breathe. No… she wouldn’t go in there.

They parked the van at the end of a row of other vans. Whisper was rooted to her seat. No. This couldn’t be happening. Her parents and brothers and sisters got out, and waited for her. NO. “Please,” her parents said, “give it a try. It couldn’t hurt to give it a try.” NO. “Please?”

She looked at her parents. She knew they were doing their best. She knew they loved her. They thought this was a good place. These people apparently knew something special about God. Her parents were trying to do what was right- and it couldn’t have been easy for them to walk in there either. Whisper got out of the van.

They walked into the building, past the stares. Even in their long denim skirts & button down shirts, which had seemed so conservative… they stood out in the crowd. People made a path to let them through… or was it to stay out of their way? Whisper couldn’t tell. Not many people smiled at them. A few men came to greet Dad, but their wives and children hung back and tried not to stare.

Filed Under: Christian Modesty, Family Integrated Church, Headcovering, More from NLQ ..., NLQ Stories, No Charity in The Remnant, Quiverfull Topics Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

NLQ Review: Sex, Mom and God by Frank Schaeffer

June 2, 2011 By 3 Comments

Midwife at the Birth of Quiverfull

A review by Hopewell

Frank Schaeffer, son of Fran and Edith Schaeffer of L’Abri fame, continues his personal memoirs in his new book Sex, Mom, and God: How the Bible’s Strange Take on Sex Led to Crazy Politics–and How I Learned to Love Women (and Jesus) Anyway. Before I review the book I want to say that I was sent a copy to review by Frank Schaeffer, but was not paid for my review so the views expressed here are my own.


I have often cited Schaeffer’s “Calvin Becker Trilogy”
as some of the funniest books I’ve ever read. That said, I’ve found his non-fiction version of his life to be tougher reading. While his fiction is trim, funny and pulls the reader fully into the story, his non-fiction sort of rambles. And has a somewhat bitter edge to it. Considering his upbringing, these are not surprising and they do not come across as whining–more like talking in circles. That said, I learned a lot of new information in this volume, and did certainly get some good laughs.

Readers of this blog who read and critique my Duggar-family posts, will be especially interested in Frank’s role in birthing the Quiverfull movement. Way back in the Day, when he was still styled “Franky Schaeffer” (to distinguish him from from his same-named father), Frank was literary agent to a new Christian author named Mary Pride. With the Schaeffer name attached, Pride’s book was a shoe-in. Today we know her, and her (in)famous book, The Way Home: Beyond Feminism, Back to Reality as the Spiritual Mother of the Quiverfull Movement. Frank(y) then, was her midwife.


What makes Frank(y)’s role so intriguing, is the fact that his parents were very much pro-birth control. His mother, who in fact and fiction, loved nothing (except maybe the Lord) more than discussing sex, revealed to her very young son that not only was his father a “passionate” lover, but his needs were such that they had marital relations every day–even when Mom was “off the roof” and Biblically unclean due to menstruation. She also showed him her diaphram and explained its purpose fully to her surprised son.


Known as well for her talks on the importance of keeping a man’s needs fulfilled as she was for her Hidden Art of Homemaking
[life style and book of same name--which predate Martha Stewart and still have a cult-like following today], Edith famously said that even on the Mission Field a wife needs a see-thru black nightie to entertain her husband. After “The Way Home,” Edith questioned her son with “Where did you find this unfortunate woman?” Like much of Edith’s prose, rhetoric and general life questions, this is a question still relevant today.

Filed Under: Biblical Manhood & Womanhood, Birth Control, Christian Modesty, Dominionism / Christian Reconstruction, Frank Schaeffer, Help Meet, Homeschool, Hopewell's Posts, JimBob & Michelle Duggar, Mary Pride, NLQ Miscellany, NLQ Reviews, Patriarchy, Psalm 127 / Quiverfull: Be Fruitful & Multiply, Quiverfull Counterculture, Quiverfull Topics, The Way Home / All The Way Home by Mary Pride, Wholesome Wear Swimsuits Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , 3 Comments

The Destiny of a Virtuous Daughter ~ Part 2: My New Love

May 29, 2011 By
by Starfury

For as much as my parents objected to many worldly things, they gave in on a surprising number of equally worldly things. Most notably, in my case, was the subject of ballet. I had always wanted to dance from a young age, and when I was 8, my parents finally agreed to let me begin to take classes. This was often something I was reminded to be grateful for–they weren’t as conservative as other families, after all.

In truth, I was grateful for it. I loved it with all my heart, and had great dreams of practicing hard and winding up as a prima ballerina for some famous worldwide touring company and performing all the famous ballets. There was only one problem with this idea… I wasn’t sure how I could maintain the necessary strenuous schedule kept by company dancers (classes and rehearsals all day, every day), and still be a loving wife and mother who homeschooled her kids. As the years went on, I slowly began to decide that as much as I loved dance, I probably wasn’t going to end up doing it professionally. After all, I’d wanted to be many other things growing up, including an astronaut and a dolphin trainer, but neither was really compatible with homeschooling 6+ kids (and I didn’t like swimming under water).

Fortunately for my overactive imagination and tendency to jump wholeheartedly into things, ever embracing some new idea for my life that would somehow either be forced to fit the wife and mother mold, or be tossed out the window, my parents decided it was time that my political apathy came to an end. I was summarily informed that I would be participating in a program called TeenPact, which involved me being shipped off to the capital for four days to learn how the government worked. I had always hated politics, but it did offer high school credit, and my parents wanted me to expand my horizons–within the scope they had predetermined, of course.

My first day at the capital had my introversion hitting me full force. I was wearing an ankle-length skirt and my hair was bound up in a snood so I could wear a headcovering, but still seem somewhat “modern.” That was the first time I had ever touched a boy, when one of the boys there came over and shook my hand. There was a brief moment of horror, and wondering if I had just committed a terrible sin, but I decided that it couldn’t have been that bad. Lightning hadn’t struck me, and this was a Christian group, after all.

At the end of the four-day program, I was utterly changed. Politics was my new love, and I wanted nothing more than to go into it myself so I could help make a difference, turn people back toward Christ, and somehow set myself up as an example for how godly women can affect politics. My intentions were never purposefully arrogant–I merely thought that if I want someone to look up to, but the person I wanted didn’t exist, then I should pioneer the way myself. Though my aspirations were gradually turning independent, I realized that I had to keep them quiet… I should be more concerned about how to be a proper senator’s wife, than a proper senator.

Filed Under: Alienation, Beautiful Girlhood, Birth Control, Boy Meets Girl by Joshua Harris, Chores, Chores, Chores!, Christian Modesty, Courtship / Betrothal, Dominionism / Christian Reconstruction, Enmeshment, Fundamentalism, Headcovering, Homemaking Skills, Homeschool, I Kissed Dating Goodbye by Josh Harris, Isolation, Issues, NLQ Stories, Parentification of Children, Personal Autonomy, Psalm 127 / Quiverfull: Be Fruitful & Multiply, Quiverfull Counterculture, Quiverfull Discernment, Quiverfull Resources, Quiverfull Topics, Self-Abnegation / Martydom, Spiritual Issues, Stay At Home Daughters (SAHDs), Submission, Teen Missions, The Destiny of a Virtuous Daughter, Umbrella of Authority Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

The Beautiful Girlhood Doll ~ Part 2: Purity & Contentment

April 17, 2011 By
by Libby Anne
To be pure in body, mind, and spirit is more precious than all the promises the world offers. Young ladies who experience a beautiful girlhood guard their hearts against anything that would rob them of purity and are content to wait upon the Lord and trust the leadership of Mom and Dad.

My mother taught us when we were little that prostitutes are women who sell their kisses. We, in contrast, were to be pure and save our kisses for our wedding day.

I am not sure when I learned that my dad would give me a purity ring the day I turned thirteen, but it must have been fairly early on because I remember thinking “I’m only seven and it will be six more years until I get my purity ring! How am I going to wait that long?” And indeed, I couldn’t wait. Finally, on my thirteenth birthday, mom and dad took me out to eat and gave me the most beautiful ring I had ever seen. It was love at first sight, and from that point on, I wore my purity ring constantly.

When I was around twelve, I read I Kissed Dating Goodbye, by Joshua Harris, and loved it. Next I read Jeff McLean’s Courtship. There was a lot of other literature too, most of it from No Greater Joy and Vision Forum. My parents read the literature too, though I am not sure when. What I do know is that I cannot remember a time when courtship was not the expectation. I embraced the idea of courtship as wholeheartedly as my parents, and used to daydream about young men asking my father’s permission to court me.

I never found not dating as a teenager odd, and I think that this was for two reasons. First, I did not meet many boys my age. In fact, I did not have a single male friend. Sure, I saw my brothers’ friends, but they were significantly younger than I and thus not marriage material. Through some strange coincidence, all of the families my family associated with had only girls my age, and their brothers were all younger. So in other words, I never had a guy that I was close to, or even really knew at all, so there was never any desire to date anyone, or even any opportunity to court. But then, I knew that would come eventually. The second reason not dating didn’t seem odd was that none of my friends dated either.

While I knew I believed in courtship, I had very little idea about how it would unfold in practice. I guess I figured that my father would handle it when the time came. Every time I saw an article on courtship in No Greater Joy magazine, I hoped my dad would read it and take notes. At some point, dad gave me a list of requirements that a candidate for my hand would have to pass. While his list was not very long, it did include the basics. My list, in contrast, was much longer.

When I was sixteen, my dad made me a hope chest. I was thrilled. I proceeded to fill it with a variety of items, including linens, kitchenware, and books on homemaking. I was very proud of my hope chest, and I could hardly wait to be a wife. I would open my hope chest and smell the cedar, and just know that my future would bring me much joy. I could hardly wait.

Filed Under: Abstinence, Beautiful Girlhood, Beautiful Girlhood by Karen Andreola, Biblical Manhood & Womanhood, Birth Control, Child Training, Christian Modesty, Courtship / Betrothal, Dominionism / Christian Reconstruction, Doug Phillips, Femininity vs Feminism, First Kiss at the Altar, Homeschool, Hope Chest, I Kissed Dating Goodbye by Josh Harris, Love, Joy, Feminism (Libby Anne), Michael & Debi Pearl, NLQ Stories, No Greater Joy (Michael & Debi Pearl), No Greater Joy by Michael Pearl, Patriarchy, Psalm 127 / Quiverfull: Be Fruitful & Multiply, Purity, Purity Rings, Quiverfull Books, Quiverfull Counterculture, Quiverfull Discernment, Quiverfull Leaders, Quiverfull Ministries, Quiverfull Topics, Socialization, Stay At Home Daughters (SAHDs), The Beautiful Girlhood Doll, To Train Up A Child (TTUAC) by Michael Pearl, Umbrella of Authority, Vision Forum (Doug Phillips) Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,