No Charity in the Remnant ~ Part 8: Bull in China Shop

September 12, 2011 By
by Whisper Rain

Whisper was taken under the wing of some of the godly people at her new church. They taught her how to sew, and how to cook the way they did… which was very different from what she was used to. She felt like there was so much she needed to learn and re-learn to be a truly godly woman, but she was willing to do it! Where would she be if she hadn’t met these people? Not living the way God expected her to, that was for sure! She was so thankful God had led her to a group of people who really understood what he wanted- people who were serious about God, and who would do anything he told them to. Looking around at the average, “professing christians” living such “lukewarm” lives, it was very clear how few people were willing to go all out for God.

All her life, Whisper had made friends easily and naturally. Until now. As her social life started to revolve more and more around people from church, Whisper felt her status as an outsider keenly. Many of the young people in the youth group had been born and raised in “The Community” or a similar one, and they didn’t seem to notice that they formed a very exclusive core group… or that the only way to be a part of it was to be born (or marry) into one of their solidly established, reputable families. Little things that were natural to them (like having been brought up speaking Dutch or German- or being proud descendants from well known Amish or Mennonite communities) quickly showed who was “in” and who was “out.” Either you naturally fit, or you didn’t. Whisper didn’t.

As far as the adults were concerned, Whisper’s drastic change (or “conversion experience,” as it came to be known), kind of gave her a pass. She acted on almost all of the teaching she received… Whisper was the ideal convert. An almost-perfect example of someone becoming a “new creation.”

Having not been brought up in The Community, Whisper began to find out that she was a bit of a bull in a china shop there. There were certain unspoken rules that were understood by everyone who had been there long… and Whisper started learning them slowly and painfully. Sometimes, for whatever reason, a “concerned person” would take it upon themselves to inform Whisper (or her mother) what people were saying about her latest faux pas. The original offended party was usually well hidden.

Whisper came to realize that no matter how hard she tried to fit and blend in… she still didn’t. These “godly people” found something to be scandalized about even in her best efforts…

Full post …

Filed Under: Alienation, Beautiful Girlhood, Biblical Manhood & Womanhood, Christian Modesty, Denny Kenaston ~ Charity Ministries, Headcovering, Homemaking Skills, Issues, Jezebel Spirit, More from NLQ ..., NLQ Stories, No Charity in The Remnant, Personal Autonomy, Purity, Quiverfull Discernment, Quiverfull Leaders, Quiverfull Topics, Self-Abnegation / Martydom, Sewing, Shunning, Spiritual Abuse & Recovery, Stay At Home Daughters (SAHDs) Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Daughter of the Patriarchy: Doing the Math

September 6, 2011 By

by Sierra Turning eighteen was magical. Suddenly, all the job applications I seemed to be throwing down an empty chute were bounced back with interest. Sven had already landed a job at Wal-Mart in his town. Now it was my turn. I nervously sat through my job interview, not daring to hope that I might [...]

Filed Under: A Woman's Choice, Abstinence, Accountability, Alienation, Anorexia, Anxiety, Beautiful Girlhood, Biblical Manhood & Womanhood, Boundaries, Bounded Choice, Child Abuse, Christian Modesty, Coercive Religious Groups (Cults), College for Daughters, Courtship / Betrothal, Daughter of the Patriarchy by Sierra, Defrauding, Depression, Educational Neglect, Emotional Purity, Enmeshment, Eschatology, Femininity vs Feminism, Formulaic Religion, Fundamentalism, Gender Equality, Homeschool, Infertility, Isolation, Issues, Legalism, Maintaining Appearances, Meek and Quiet Spirit, Mental / Emotional Health, More from NLQ ..., NLQ Stories, Perfectionism, Personal Autonomy, Pretribulation Rapture, Psalm 127 / Quiverfull: Be Fruitful & Multiply, Purity, Quiverfull Counterculture, Quiverfull Discernment, Quiverfull Leaders, Quiverfull Topics, Recovering from Spiritual Abuse, Self-Abnegation / Martydom, Self-Loathing, Self-Preservation Factor, Separation - Individuation, Shunning, Socialization, Soul-Binding, Spiritual Abuse & Recovery, Spiritual Issues, Stay At Home Daughters (SAHDs), Submission, Umbrella of Authority, William Branham - Message of the Hour Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Daughter of the Patriarchy: The Waiting

August 25, 2011 By

by Sierra

I loved driving. I’d always known I would. As a child, I collected Hot Wheels cars until they numbered in the hundreds. When I was twelve, my mother decided to teach me to drive in case my father’s rage spilled over completely and I needed to escape. It was both terrifying and exhilarating. The car felt huge and seemed to move so much faster when my hands were on the wheel. I crowed with pride as I successfully navigated the winding roads of our rural neighborhood, passing a UPS truck with wide eyes and short breath.

As I grew older, I periodically stowed away money for a car. At my bakery job, I thought I might finally have a chance when I amassed $1,000 – a year’s savings. Anxious to get wheels, I researched motorcycles and mopeds, which were both cheaper and had a younger age restriction, but was repeatedly told that young ladies shouldn’t ride motorcycles – how could I, in a skirt? I was prepared to make it work until winter convinced me of the foolishness of that plan. I focused my energies again on hunting for cheap cars.

Time and again my savings evaporated: my father took the thousand; rent and food took the rest. I was a contributing member of the household; that meant petty savings for a teenager’s car was low on the priority list. Each time my mother’s outdated and under-maintained car ran itself into the ground and she was forced to buy or lease another, she promised that next time, I’d get to keep the old one. It never happened.

When I was sixteen, my mother and I moved to a farmhouse apartment in a rural area with only one general store within twenty miles. I applied for a summer job there, but was last in the queue of several farm kids and was never called back. My mother commuted to the bakery, an hour’s drive, and I was left to fend for myself in the house. My halfhearted attempts to master Algebra II soon dissolved, and I began to spend my days online, as I had done three years earlier. This time, I was playing a video game: Dark Age of Camelot, an online roleplaying game. All pretense of homeschooling was silently dropped. Our house was not in order; public school was not an option. And so I vanished into a game.

Sven and I played the game first together, igniting no small controversy in the church. The fantasy genre was already suspect: everyone knew that good Christian kids didn’t read Harry Potter, much less play any game resembling (God forbid) Dungeons and Dragons, where kids practiced actual incantations and learned to command the legions of the devil. (Oh, how many high schools would mysteriously burn to the ground if that were true!)

Sven and I defended our pastime vociferously: we knew no occult spells. Sure, there was “magic” in the game, but we were only pressing buttons to launch imaginary fireballs at opponents. There was no devil here. Our loudest opponent, a 26 year old, insisted that the only way to avoid witchcraft was to avoid the appearance of magic.

He was holier than we were; he only played Grand Theft Auto.

As my life dwindled to Sunday church services and fellowship, occasional trips to northern New Jersey to work at the bakery, and the closed Algebra book on my nightstand, I investigated more areas of Dark Age of Camelot, playing in zones where Sven didn’t play, and interacting with other people. Eventually, I made friends. I joined a group called “Lema en Estela,” where I found I could live in another world: one where I didn’t have to demonstrate my piety. I could be imaginative here. I could compete and win without being told that I was violating God’s order. I could make jokes without being told to be sober and serious, for the hour was late. More important, I could have long, friendly conversations with people who accepted me for who I was.

Soon I’d abandoned Sven’s realm to spend all my time with Lema en Estela. I was hiding, but I was safe there. Safe from the impending failure that was my high school education. Safe from my father’s intrusions back into my life. Safe from the judgment of the adults at my church. Safe from the false girl friends who used me to get to Sven. Lema en Estela, as ephemeral as it was, was a beautiful refuge from what otherwise was an empty time.

Filed Under: A Woman's Choice, Abstinence, Accountability, Alienation, Anorexia, Anxiety, Beautiful Girlhood, Biblical Manhood & Womanhood, Boundaries, Bounded Choice, Child Abuse, Christian Modesty, Coercive Religious Groups (Cults), College for Daughters, Courtship / Betrothal, Daughter of the Patriarchy by Sierra, Defrauding, Depression, Educational Neglect, Emotional Purity, Enmeshment, Eschatology, Femininity vs Feminism, Formulaic Religion, Fundamentalism, Gender Equality, Homeschool, Infertility, Isolation, Issues, Legalism, Maintaining Appearances, Meek and Quiet Spirit, Mental / Emotional Health, More from NLQ ..., NLQ Stories, Perfectionism, Personal Autonomy, Pretribulation Rapture, Psalm 127 / Quiverfull: Be Fruitful & Multiply, Purity, Quiverfull Counterculture, Quiverfull Discernment, Quiverfull Leaders, Quiverfull Topics, Recovering from Spiritual Abuse, Self-Abnegation / Martydom, Self-Loathing, Self-Preservation Factor, Separation - Individuation, Sheltering Children, Shunning, Socialization, Soul-Binding, Spiritual Abuse & Recovery, Spiritual Issues, Stay At Home Daughters (SAHDs), Submission, Umbrella of Authority, William Branham - Message of the Hour Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Dispelled ~ One Girl’s Journey in a Home School Cult ~ Part 9: Sparks Fly

August 22, 2011 By

Please note: The content contained herein does not necessarily reflect the values and opinions of the NLQ blog and its administrators.

by Chandra

I still remember what I was doing on Tuesday morning, September 11, 2001. It was a gorgeous morning, crisp azure sky with nothing but the blissful autumn sunshine overhead. Not even a cloud. I pulled into the church parking lot, sunroof back and something along the lines of Green Day blaring. I arrived at the office early, unlocking the door and booted my computer, prepping to attend to the stack of projects that pastors needed completing. I glanced over the counseling schedule for the day and realized that it was going to be a light day. After I had started a pot of coffee for all the guys, I went back to my desk to begin my day.

Somewhere around 9am the news came flooding into the office about the tragedies that were surrounding our eastern coast. Several key members of our church were in the air on business meetings, yet to be accounted for. My co-worker and I went to the sanctuary to pray and when I came back, my inbox said, “You’ve Got Mail” from this mysteriously attractive guy named Darren that I had met over the summer in the singles group. I was a baby, just 19 when I met him. And he was 29. But we were friends and we started an email conversation on 9/11 about the current events facing our nation. And for some reason, this conversation never stopped.

I was still living at home and I knew for certain I wasn’t about to let my parents screw up my chances at finding love and happiness. I knew I needed to leave the house before I could date, because there was no way in hell that I would ever consider courtship. My parents were so screwed up, that that model would not have worked, even though that was their clear desire for me. They wanted to be able to control whom I married so that they could continue to control me from beyond my father’s house.

I began to actively search with a dear friend for a place to rent later that same month. Things at home had grown substantially worse, if that was even possible. I was never home, often leaving early in the morning and often not returning until well past midnight. My sexy Honda became my refuge and respite from the intolerable home environment. My mom grew increasingly intrusive and controlling, opening my mail (keep in mind, I was 19), analyzing my credit card statements (again, I was 19 with a full-time job and zero overhead), my eating habits (she told me that I had bulimia- HA! I wish!), and my choice in clothing (my father told me while going to church that I looked like a prostitute).

I was told that my lack of pitching in with my hard-earned money to help out with household costs was the reason that my parents were in so much debt. I believed it, and internalized these statements, rather than recognizing that my dad’s sexual addiction was the cause of their financial state. Rather than throwing my money to them, I determined that my best option was to leave.

I was weary of trying to make things work at home, of no freedom and completely humiliating incidences. My mom would call people I was hanging out with, demanding to know where I was and when I would be home. Many times, she would be awake when I arrived home, and would begin her emotional tirades against me from the moment I stepped into the house. They never set a curfew, so I never felt compelled to keep it. Once, my mom barged in on a church single’s party, tracking down where this social gathering was. She appeared and demanded if I was there at the house. She came in, and dragged me by the hand out of this home and humiliated me in front of everyone. Again, I was 19. That was the final straw. I ripped into her, telling her how much I hated her and it was not two weeks later, that my friend and I found a condo that was offered to us by a member of the church where I worked.

I was thrilled to at last have found a place to live away from my parents toxicity! I had my little red Honda packed and ready to go weeks in advance, but I would be required to live with my parents through the holidays. My girlfriend and I were free to move in anytime after Christmas, so the day after Christmas, I planned my move. And this guy Darren, who had befriended me that autumn had the truck that I needed. I did not need help from my parents, and refused to take it. I needed to leave, flee- as far away from them as my situation would take me, and I wanted them to have no part of my new life.

I got myself moved and found my parents and my brother in my new condo, unannounced. I had forgotten to lock the door. I was more than just a little angry that they wouldn’t leave me alone, and told them to leave. This was my life, and I wanted to live it apart from them perpetrating their abuse and control on me. Little did I know what a long road I would have ahead of me in actually obtaining that freedom.

Filed Under: Courtship / Betrothal, Dispelled ~ One Girl's Journey in a Home School Cult, More from NLQ ..., NLQ Stories, Quiverfull Topics, Stay At Home Daughters (SAHDs) Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

No Charity in the Remnant ~ Part 7: She Trusted Them Because She Trusted God …

August 14, 2011 By

by Whisper Rain

The months that followed were a bit of a blur. Whisper’s newfound happiness was getting attention, and she had to figure out how to explain it. People would just walk up to her out of the blue and ask her what happened, because she looked like a different person. At the time, the simplest explanation that made the most sense (in the context of the teaching in her new church) was that she had finally surrendered herself to God completely. Yes, it felt a little “off” to put it that way… it was a woeful oversimplification at best… and a complete fabrication at worst. But Whisper didn’t know how to explain what had happened, so it didn’t seem like such a big deal to let people think it was something they could easily understand. She didn’t think there was any harm in letting it go at that. Especially since the being of love she had encountered that night was someone she certainly wouldn’t have hesitated to surrender to.

Whisper listened with rapt attention to the preaching at her new church. She was so excited to hear about God and study the bible! She soaked up the teaching like a sponge. Then she went home and read all the popular Christian books, careful to keep her mind open to whatever new ideas they might present to her… A life of trust was so simple! At first, she very rarely rejected an idea from a christian source, believing that God was moving everywhere, and might speak to her through anything, if she would keep an open mind and listen. Whisper bought all the books on godly womanhood that she could find- she quickly filled a bookshelf. Then she discovered “I Kissed Dating Goodbye,” and started collecting books about courtship, modesty, and various other popular Christian topics. Whisper quickly became convinced that she needed not only to be a Christian, but to be a conservative Christian. More dedicated than the average “lukewarm” variety, and therefore closer to God. More than anything Whisper wanted to be close to God. One day Whisper overheard a glowing review of the book “Created To Be His Help Meet”… so she added it to her “must read” list.

After her experience, Whisper knew deep down that some of the things she started doing & believing were outright reactions to her “old self.” She thought that was a good thing! Happiness instead of misery was good! And it really was. But quickly, under the teaching she was now open to, independence was traded in for submission. Individuality traded in for femininity and “modesty.” Critical thought was replaced with “teachableness.” She willingly destroyed her secular CDs, and replaced them with hymns. Whisper’s parents started to get uncomfortable… what was happening to their daughter? WAS this their daughter?

Whisper left her old self behind. She didn’t really let herself think much about that “dark time” before (as she was told) “the light of the gospel shined in her heart.” Even the very event, the beautiful thing that had happened to her that night, was dragged out into the light, picked apart and labeled. That was her “conversion experience.” She quickly learned to define it all in the correct terms.

Whisper began to learn that, in her new church, there was more to outward appearances than she had thought. These people didn’t dress the way they did because it was comfortable. There was a specific meaning behind everything… either a verse of scripture or a “godly principle.” They dressed the way they did to be an example to the world- to truly be a shining light.

Filed Under: Beautiful Girlhood, Christian Modesty, Created To Be His Help Meet by Debi Pearl, Headcovering, More from NLQ ..., NLQ Stories, No Charity in The Remnant, Quiverfull Books, Quiverfull Resources, Quiverfull Topics, Stay At Home Daughters (SAHDs) Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,