Sunday's Coming

It's Sunday, a beautiful clear, hot day. We were going to go to church this morning but my daughter had a headache, so I walked to the store to get a collar for the dog instead. I even had a piece of red velvet cake. Yes, I did. It's been years since I've done that. I also saw a falcon, sitting perfectly on a fence like Horus staring at me, and I saw a 1962 convertible Corvette. Sweet car. The owner saw me look and sat up straight and proud as he passed. What a glorious world we live in when there are things like staring falcons, corvettes and red velvet cake. I couldn't finish the cake. I'm that rich.

Three years ago or so, Sunday was a very different scene. I would have gotten up at 6:00 am at the latest. There were many little bodies to dress, brush hair, find shoes and socks for ("Didn't I tell you to do that yesterday?") and a potluck meal to prepare. Soon, the boys would be up, I had 4 little boys and a baby girl at the time. Feed them, hustle everyone around, try to keep everything going smooth and get them looking decent. Most of the prep would have been done the day before. Heaven help me if I was busy and didn't get it done the day before. But even still it was never perfect. There was always someone with missing socks or shoes, or whose church pants didn't get washed and had to wear holey jeans.

My husband was notoriously grumpy on Sunday. It seemed as though no matter how my teenage daughters and I hustled, there would be something. He compared us to other families. We never seemed to be able to measure up.

Sundays were hands down the worst days of the week. No contest. Mondays were wonderful. There would be a whole week before I would have to do it all again. Mondays were light and free. By Thursday I would start feeling apprehensive. Saturday would be anxious and dreading. Then Sunday was there like a heavy stone, plopped into my calendar on a seven day rotation. And I went on like this, not for a few months, not for a year, but YEARS. And the longer I continued the worse it got.

There were so many reasons I was unhappy at that church. I'm not particularly interested in pulling each little bit apart. Misogyny, authoritarianism, a heavy view of God where it almost felt like He could barely stand you and barely took you back each week, and just good old fashioned "high school" social dynamics were there as in crowds, out crowds, and social scapegoats. Emphasis on the law and barely preaching out of the New Testament, really I think Jesus was mostly mentioned during communion but barely the sermons, and an over emphasis on verses highlighting the sinfulness of the human heart and very little mention of a newness of spirit, these were all there for sure. There was also more troubling aspects, like the romanticizing of the Confederate army, and the exaltation of teachers like Rushdooney to the point that he almost has as much authority as the Bible-maybe more, because he interprets, which could be seen as a sort of authority over the Bible. There was this idea that we were supposed to confront each other over sin which kind of turns into this thing where no matter what people say about you you were supposed to buck up and take it, because it could be true and if you thought it wasn't, well the heart is desperately wicked, who can know it?

Which turned into a kind of sanctioned bullying, because the people who were bossy by nature weren't really reigned in, and the people who were trying to be humble and take it... were taking it.

I swear, the CREC is a cult of sanctified meanness.


Not to mention the ridiculous courtship culture that was so nutty and all full of gossip, innuendo...

I finally got all fed up and walked away, when the misery was infecting my kids and my family was falling apart and we so incredibly broke, (mandatory tithing) and all these articles were going around about how you should never, ever leave your church world without end amen. I agonized over those articles. What if I left and horrible things happened and it would be all my fault? But one day  I told myself, "I'm just going to take two weeks off. I'm just not going to go for the next two Sundays." And I never went back.

And things instantly started getting better. And it's been progressively getting better ever since. 

So why did I stay so long? This has been really  interesting to me ever since. I know there are people who say there can't be a God because look at how abusive churches are and all that, but I think there has to be a God because how else could this tremendously powerful energy be so available for so many people to capitalize on and turn to their own advantage? People who key into the energy people are willing to expend in the name of being good for God and they can get people do anything! Things they normally wouldn't do, and aren't to their benefit, but guilt trip them about God and there they are.

It's kind of an amazing thing. And I was part of it. I fell for it.

I spent a lot of time afterwards reading about spiritual abuse, listening to podcasts, reading books like Influence, learning about Stockholm syndrome, and the Stanford Prison Experiment.  And learning about the Bible. Not just what it says, but source criticism, other interpretations, and church history. I started seeking out every alternate point of view I could find. I still am.