The last couple of weeks have been a challenge. As you know I’m currently writing a book. I’ve been feeling stuck and frustrated with the process. At the same time I’ve been having many fresh realizations. It feels like more and more layers of UPCI indoctrination are being stripped from me. I’ve had mind blowing ah-has that have left me overwhelmed as I’ve tried to process them. I find myself thinking how strange it is that there is still more to be stripped away. It feels like after all these years there should be nothing left, but there is always more.
For decades I have been seeking to better understand what happened to me when I was a child. I’ve engaged with all sorts of ideas that range from Christian to atheist, always unwinding the past and trying to make sense of it all. Writing my memoir has heightened my questioning which in turn has given me more to unwind and process. Writing while processing can be really taxing and so at times I feel compelled to just surrender to the waves. This means stepping away from my keyboard and taking time to just tear the layers away and see what is underneath. Each wave removes another layer and then there is a tiny transformation, I am changed. Some of these transformations bring joy and that is always a nice surprise. Other transformations reveal another layer of anger and resentment. Next, I have to make peace with whatever has been revealed. I have to learn to accept this new to me self that has been buried deep within. During this time I usually end up asking myself many questions, this part can lead me right back to the unwinding stage. Finally when my emotions and questions have quieted down I can find my way back to the keyboard. Hopefully then my transformed self can bring something fresh, a deeper insight to it all. This is often needed as it can be hard to keep revising the same chapters over and over.
My desire in sharing this with you today is just to reach out. I’m still here, I’m still willing to listen and help, and I’m still working through my own trauma. Please feel free to check in and let me know how you’re doing. Now, I’ve got to get back to my book.
Hello and happy February! I’m sorry I have been away for so long. I’ve been spending much of my free time focusing on my book. It is coming along nicely and I can’t wait to share it all with you. I’m not gonna lie, the editing process has been tough. As I dig deeper and deeper into my own story more and more trauma is uncovered. Along with that, the same old trauma is always waiting for me on the page. I find myself wishing I could just let it all go and not have to keep coping with the triggers that jump out at me when I’m alone.
The writing process requires you to ask yourself many questions. One of the first ones is, why are you writing this book? It’s a good question. Why would I want to relive all the pain and trauma I’ve suffered? Why not just ignore it all and move on with my life? The short answer is that ignoring it is never an answer. It is a part of me and not something I can choose not to look at. The longer answer is that I want to share my experiences in hopes that it will help other survivors feel less alone. A surprising reason to write this book has been to bring about additional unexpected healing for myself. Unfortunately, healing doesn’t often happen without pain. I believe that many people avoid healing because they know that the path through it will bring sadness and the facing of demons from the past.
If you’re a United Pentecostal lurking on my page I hope that you will come to see that the damage done to survivors of your organization is long-lasting. It is never as easy as no longer being bitter and just forgiving. Right now as I’m revising my book two things are looming large in my mind. The first one is the Steve Dahl portion. Through the process of revising I’ve come to realize that the damage he caused me is so much greater than I ever imagined. Its echoes have infected all of my relationships with the opposite sex and my entire sex life. That is a high cost to pay for what many have told me is a long-ago event that I should just get over. It has been heart-wrenching to write about, but what came after was almost worse. Calvary Gospel church and the way they treated me is unforgivable. Writing it all out and seeing it all through my 53-year-old eyes and understanding has brought about a clarity I never had before. I will never understand how grown adults who are supposed to be part of a faith centered on love can just turn their backs on a child. It was mean, petty, and life-wrecking. Writing about it makes my chest literally hurt. A blackness follows me around when I spend too much time focused on these parts of my book. I dissociate and have to remind myself that I have value and I’m worthy. The UPC church can seem very loving until it isn’t. If writing my book can save one person from that heartache it will have been worth it. In the meantime, I battle my demons. Sometimes I win and sometimes I lose.
The second monster I cope with while writing is the Book of Revelations monster. Thank goodness for EMDR therapy. https://www.apa.org/ptsd-guideline/treatments/eye-movement-reprocessing. Without it, I would not be able to write about the rapture and everything that goes with it. That being said, this doesn’t mean that I’m not triggered or that it isn’t scary. I’m not afraid of the rapture I’m afraid of my memories of being taught about it. When I write about it I get that same pain in my chest and a sense of dread follows me for days. These ideas planted in my mind before I even went to school have been with me for as long as I can remember. Visuals pop into my head unbidden and then it can take days to chase them off into the corners of my mind. They’re not gone but they’re not threatening to take over anymore. It is during these times that I wonder why the church focused on hell and the end times so much. There is so much you can teach a small child about god and the Bible. Because the scary stories of the Bible were taught to me so young they took over my mind and everything else about god seemed secondary. Who cares about all those Sunday school stories when we are talking about a god who might throw me into a lake of fire to burn forever. It’s like talking about a serial killer and everyone wanting to focus on how he bakes good cookies. It just seems like the cookies don’t matter if he might slit your throat at any moment. I’m choosing to go through the trauma dredged up in this part of the book for survivors as well. I’m going through it for all the little girls afraid to sleep at night. Afraid they might miss the rapture. I’m writing it for all the adults I know who still fear being left behind. I see you and you’re not crazy.
I’ve been rambling. I’m sorry. When I write about the traumatic responses I experience I get flooded. It can be hard to write as clearly as I want to. If reading this has triggered you here are a few things you can do:
Call a friend who understands. At times we just need to be reminded we are safe.
Get outside. I like to put some happy music on and go for a walk.
Yoga, or some other kind of movement. Yoga really helps me to slow my breathing down.
Cleanse your mental palate. Watch a funny TV show, work on a craft or project that requires concentration, or do something social.
On June 14, 2022 David K Bernard General Superintendent of The United Pentecostal church announced on his Facebook page a church wide program called Safe Church. On upci.org they state “The UPCI stands for biblical morality and opposes any immoral or illegal actions such as child abuse, spousal abuse, sexual harassment, sexual immorality, and fraud. We take all allegations of wrongdoing very seriously.” They go on to state “The UPCI has limited ability to deal with situations involving criminal conduct, and thus in such cases you should contact the appropriate legal authorities… each local church is self-governing under the leadership of the pastor and church board. If you have a complaint against a member of a local UPCI church, contact the pastor and the chair of the church board. If you wish to file a complaint against a credentialed UPCI minister, you should contact the district superintendent where that minister resides.”
This policy along with the UPCI position paper on abuse and sexual misconduct would lead you to believe that they stand firmly against abuse and encourage members to go to local authorities as soon as a problem arises. The problem is when a state like Wisconsin has a loophole that says ministers are not required to report. What is missed is how UPCI members are groomed to believe that their pastors word is the final word on everything. What happens if you go to your pastor and they say they will handle it? Then nothing is done and you are also groomed to not bring the police into church business. Also what happens, like in my case, when your pastor is your district superintendent? What I am not seeing is David K Bernard instructing licensed ministers to change the way they teach church members. I believe he would say that each church is autonomous and therefore the UPCI cannot instruct them on these things just like the UPCI will not force churches to adopt their policy, they say they can only make recommendations. I call bull****. If they license ministers and at times remove licenses then they can require anything they want. They could say report all cases or lose your license.
All you have to do is read some of the social media comments about current cases to see where the church really stands. It has become clear that much like the Catholic Church the UPCI moves accused ministers around and is silent when calls are made for ministers to be removed because of wrong doing. It seems as if not much has changed regarding how things are really handled. I believe this is because the UPCI has not had an overhaul of their collective heart. When you have pastors’ wives saying things like..
Statements like this make it clear that compassion is not the primary concern with regards to victims.
I spent some time in David K Bernards comment section and tried to bring up the fact that there is a huge problem in the Madison Wisconsin church. He did not offer me any compassion and none of the other UPCI commenters really had much to say to me. When you spend time reading the comments most of what you see is people saying that pastor so and so is innocent! He is being falsely accused and the victim pursued him. It is the same no matter what case you look at. All this shows that across the membership they are firmly grounded in pastor/minister worship. At no point have I seen David K Bernard step in to rebuke these members. Usually the ones standing for the victims in these conversations are the other survivors. These survivors can be quickly dismissed as being backslidden lost souls whose cries for justice should be ignored for that reason.
Why does John Grant still have a license? Well I think I know what they would say, they would say because he has no victims. Truth be told he has many, many victims. Young people who trusted him to do what is right, not just what is called for by law. Pastors and other ministers should report and support survivors because it is moral and because it is right. Not just because Safe Church recommends it or because of the UPCI position paper. I firmly believe all of these “suggested” policies exist just to cover the UPCI in the public eye. It is window dressing. As I have asked in a previous post, where is the love? I would add to that compassion and kindness.
“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith,
Meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.” Galatians 5: 22-23.
I do not see these fruits exhibited within the comments on social media or in the way the churches have handled things. What I see is church members hero worshipping pastors instead of coming alongside victims. I see nasty attitudes and one-upmanship in the comments and I don’t see David K Bernard stepping in to correct peoples bad behavior. It is clear he is respected and his words carry weight. If he were to speak out and make a statement about how people are behaving in the comments I believe he could make an impact. The current church looks an awful lot like Pharisees. In public on their website trying to appear so righteous but their hearts are rotten. When I watch how they behave regarding these issues I see the same mean victim blaming church I know so well from my childhood.
The topic of historical abuse keeps popping up lately. Today I want to explain why I keep talking about my story. Some people might think, well this all started way back in 1981, shouldn’t she be past it all by now? There tends to be this misconception that just because I continue to speak about it means that I’m not trying to heal or move on with my life. Nothing could be further from the truth. I have worked and continue to work very hard on my own healing while recognizing that I will always have C-PTSD. It is not my desire to have to keep fighting this fight, nevertheless I press forward because I cannot turn my back on all of the children who are still in church. My conscience will not allow me to stop fighting until the church has been brought to justice. I’m not saying that all survivors should follow my path. We each have to do what is best for ourselves.
I know that my abuser has at least one other victim.
“Most perpetrators will continue to abuse children if they are not reported and stopped. Nearly 70% of child sex offenders have between 1 and 9 victims; at least 20% have 10 to 40 victims. An average serial child molester may have as many as 400 victims in his lifetime”
These statistics are what keep me awake at night. We know that abusers rarely stop at one child, I know my abuser had at least 2 victims. We also know that they do not stop unless they are brought to justice. My abuser still has access to children through the church he leads and the community that he has become very involved with. I am left to wonder how many more victims he has picked up over the years? These abusers are life ruiners. Once you become caught in their web you will likely spend your entire lifetime dealing with the damage they have caused. These acts are not something that you just move on from. It takes so much time and money to heal from these abuses, time and money that could be spent on so many other wonderful things. Every day I live with the fact that my abuser is still out there. People will say well he can’t hurt you now, and I understand that, but I am also aware that he can still hurt others. I think he should be on the sexual offenders list and be monitored by the authorities. At the very least I continue to speak so that others know to steer clear of him and the United Pentecostal Church. If I can save even one child from the pain I’ve endured it will have been worth it.
When abusers and those who cover for them are not brought to justice the cycle continues. Not only are the abusers able to continue their sick practices but those who cover for them are most likely going to be willing to cover for others like them. As long as these people remain in power the cycle continues and the victims pile up. In my case my pastor, John Grant Sr., was the district superintendent for the state of Wisconsin. I am sure he counseled others beneath him on how to handle cases like mine. He also had multiple cases within his own congregation that he swept under the rug. Because he has never been held responsible for his behavior the Madison church developed a policy of covering up crimes against children. His son is now in charge and has his own problems with being inappropriate with minors. How driven do you believe Roy Grant to be with regards to reporting abuse? So far it appears he is not shown himself to be willing to take responsibility for what he has done or how the congregation has a history of covering up crimes against children. He has shown himself to be unwilling to make any kind of amends towards survivors and so the cycle continues. Because it was not dealt with way back in 1981 we are still dealing with it in 2022. I know of so many survivors who once sat under Pastor John Grant and I’m sure there are so many more who are too afraid or just weary to come forward. Are you starting to see the cost? When crimes go without being brought to justice the cycle moves on and on. When institutions allow a culture of covering up abuse and then nepotism allows churches to pass from father to son children will continue to be at risk. Why do you think Calvary Gospel has so many survivors? I feel it is because abusers clearly saw that those in leadership were not moved to stand for children and because of that they felt safe to carry out their crimes. Men might have to stand before the church and confess but no one was going to call the cops. Also the men knew that the young girls would most likely be standing right there beside them because the church rarely sees these things as crimes against children but chooses to see them as adultery. Children were and are sacrificed on the altar of the church’s public image. Men who abuse minors are not weeded out and when they invite their friends to church often their friends are just like them. Over time the number of men willing to abuse minors grows while none of them are ever really removed from the congregation. This is how churches become rotten. Anyone who has ever had a garden knows you have to weed. I have to ask myself do the men in power cover up the crimes of congregants because they are afraid that maybe the finger will be pointed at them? Are they in hiding because of their own misdeeds?
We rarely ever speak about the women and their role. I can tell you from my own experience that the women within my home church were the meanest of them all. When I needed support or maybe someone to report on my abuser these women had nothing for me but accusing eyes and gossip. I think because women within the church are treated as second class citizens they try to garner status in any way they can. It might come in the form of who has the longest hair or the best clothing, whose husband has the highest position, or it might come in the form of looking your nose down on a little girl that you see as beneath you. Either way the women within the UPC are not free from responsibility. They support the church and keep the secrets just like the men do.
All of this creates a legacy of abuse and my story is just one small part of it. As long as the cycle continues I feel I have to keep telling my story and speaking about the systemic nature of it all. What we refuse to acknowledge and deal with will continue to fester and spread. What can you do? Well, you can uplift the stories of survivors. You can speak out regarding abuse you have witnessed and you can call out the leadership of your church. You can report abuse when you suspect it and you can speak the truth when others are too afraid to. For my part I’m going to continue to shed light where I can and I’m going to continue to seek my own healing.
When I was a little girl one of my favorite passages of the Bible was 1 Corinthians 13. In a Bible that often seemed confusing and unclear to my young mind this verse rang out with its clarity. When I think about how the UPC is handling the abuse cases coming into the light I have to wonder if they have read these verses lately.
“1 Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not charity, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal
2 And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not charity, I am nothing.
3 And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not charity, it profiteth me nothing.
4 Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,
5 Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;
6 Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth;
7 Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.
8 Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away.
9 For we know in part, and we prophesy in part.
10 But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away.
11 When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.
12 For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.
13 And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.”
I know that I have stated this before but whenever I read David Bernards responses regarding the church and the sick acts that are being perpetrated within its congregations I get so angry. It always comes across to me as deflection, blame shifting, victim blaming, and nowhere in his words do I see love in any form. Yes, it is true that in many cases they (the UPC) are not required to report crimes to the police, but when has the letter of the law ever been their concern? I was under the impression that they believed the Bible in its most literal form and it is believed to be inerrant. The Bible is said to be the focus of their lives and not man’s law. If the Bible is truly their focus then doing the right thing should matter more that protecting their organization and certainly more important that protecting ministers who have committed crimes against children.
“Take heed that ye despise not one of these little ones; for I say unto you, That in heaven their angels do always behold the face of my Father which is in heaven.” Matthew 18:10
I do not believe for one minute that the powers that be within the UPC believe that these abused children have tempted these grown men into sin. I feel they understand that children are not the ones with the power within the situation and I also believe that they do not care. They only care about protecting their money and organization. Reputation is what matters and that makes them look like Pharisees. Wanting to be seen as holy but with rotten hearts.
“And whosoever shall offend one of these little ones that believe in me, it is better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he were cast into the sea.” Mark 9:42
When I read David Bernards words I see a worried man with the walls closing in around him and the organization he leads. If I could give him one piece of advice it would be this, you can change all of this right now, there is still time. I would suggest starting by apologizing to all the victims the UPC have ignored. You would be surprised at how healing that message could be. Then I would make a commitment to clean house of all of the ministers who have perpetrated crimes and those who support them. Don’t count crimes by who has been arrested but who you know have done terrible things to the little ones. Put into place a zero tolerance policy regarding child abuse and start implementing it immediately. Reach out to the wounded and offer love and real help.
“And the King shall answer and say unto them, Verily I say unto you, Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.” Matthew 25:40
Rather than speak about who has a license and who does not I would suggest reaching out to the victims and their families and seek to find ways to help them heal. Embrace them rather than casting them out. When choosing a side to stand on be found on the side of the wounded child instead of seeming to want to protect the men who have decided to walk with the devil.
“Not every one that saith unto me, Lord, Lord, shall enter into the kingdom of heaven; but he that doeth the will of my Father which is in heaven.
Many will say to me in that day, Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in thy name? and in thy name have cast out devils? and in thy name done many wonderful works?
And then will I profess unto them, I never knew you: depart from me, ye that work iniquity.” Matthew 7: 21-23
Now I can already hear all of you UPC folks saying to yourselves, why should we listen to her? She is an unbeliever. This may be so but remember that you raised me and I consumed this scripture day and night and I know it as well as you do.
The UPC is very concerned about holiness and especially about the holiness of women. It seems odd to me that they care so little about the lack of holiness in some of their men. There is a toxic plague running through their churches but what matters to them is what the young woman was wearing and if she flirted with a grown man that should know better. Dovey Ensey, a pastors wife, was quoted as saying, “All I’ll say is, it takes two to tango.” When I read this the first thing that came to mind were the things the church said about me. It was like a punch in the gut and it drove home how much the church has not changed since I was a child. They claim they have evolved and they claim to teach their ministers how to respond properly to situations involving abuse but from where I stand its seems like the same old playbook.
If you are a victim/survivor of the UPC church I want you to know that I am here for you. Feel free to reach out at any time and I will be happy to chat with you.
My heart has been stirring for the last few days as new allegations of sexual abuse and misconduct from within the United Pentecostal Church have come to light. Sometimes it seems never ending and somedays I tell myself that I’m too tired or angry to speak but today is not one of those days. April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month and I feel that this is the perfect time to remind people that behind all of these stories is a real victim/survivor and their families. I watch as people spar over what the Bible says and who is a licensed minister within the UPC and who is not. I watch as David Bernard ducks and weaves to avoid being held accountable for what happened within the organization he leads. In the midst of all of this people discuss whether or not the victim is to blame and some sling arrows saying things like, “It takes two to tango.” I wish I could say that I am surprised but I am not. From my personal experience the UPC will never miss the opportunity to blame the victim and support the perpetrators. I believe it is all about money and saving their precious reputation. Nepotism has long been a problem within the organization and they do not seem to be in any hurry to solve it. They definitely are not in a hurry to take responsibility when their sin is brought out into the light.
Minors cannot give consent and cannot be held responsible for the thoughts and actions of adults. When I was abused within the Madison Wisconsin congregation I was 11 years old and very modestly dressed. I had never held hands with a boy and actually did not really have much interest in boys at that point. I was an innocent and none of that kept me safe from an abusive man and the pastor and others who did not report it to the police. I did not cause this grown man to fall into sin and neither did any of the survivors who followed after me. The other thing that isn’t often talked about is the lifetime of pain and trauma that awaits survivors of sexual abuse. It isn’t a little thing. It changes who you are and for many of us it drove us away from the church. We became the focus of gossip instead of being the focus of love and compassion.
When I think of these new survivors and all the ones who came before I send a little prayer out to the universe. I wish them love and compassion, healing and wholeness, understanding and friendship. I hope they have someone in their lives to tell them it isn’t their fault and if they do not have a person like that I hope they find my blog. I am grateful for those who continue to drag these stories out into the light. I am also thankful for those who continue to fight when I cannot. I may not always say thank you but I see your work and I appreciate your support.
“You’re not a victim for sharing your story. You are a survivor setting the world on fire with your truth. And you never know who needs your light, your warmth, and raging courage.” — Alex Elle
National Child Abuse Hotline Call or text hotline: 800.422.4453
A while back a fellow survivor said something to me that I cannot stop thinking about. She described the church we grew up in as having a caste system. A caste system is a cultural structure where your class is determined by birth. So if you’re born a certain race or in a certain social economic class you cannot escape it. I believe this is true for people within Calvary Gospel. I think I was keenly aware of it during my childhood. No matter what I did right I would never rise above the poverty and race of my family. Plus I had this sin stain on me like a scarlet letter. They would really never let you forget who you were in their eyes. Small daily occurrences would remind you of your place. If you were born into the right family you could get away with almost anything. If you were not then the hot spotlight of shame and humiliation would be shone on you. I was never spanked at school but many others were. The “right” kids never got spanked, but if you were a poor child or a child of color your chances of being whacked went up considerably. One little girl comes to mind. She was a beautiful child and very high strung. She was not a child of color but came from an economically disadvantaged family with an unpopular mother. She was spanked a lot. She was not the kind of child you would expect to sit in a tiny office all day staring at the wall but that did not matter. She was bright and full of energy! I got the feeling that most of the adults working within the church and school did not like her and I always felt sadness for her. I babysat for her and her siblings and never really had any issues. I think she just needed to burn off steam, she may have been hyperactive, for sure she was not getting what she needed from the school. Hers is a common story. The perceived sins of the parents rolled down unto the children and for those of us at the bottom of the food chain things could feel pretty cold at times. At least I was old enough to understand in some ways why things were happening to me but I feel for the little ones who had no clue.
Sometimes I felt like a workhorse. I was a smart kid and driven by ambition. We never associated with other schools even within the UPC. There were no plays to try out for or academic meets to compete in. If you were into sports you were out of luck because the church wasn’t big on sports. Don’t cheer for a team, cheer for Jesus! We did not have band or music lessons outside of singing in the youth choir. Then came Bible Quizzing. I do not remember how quizzing was introduced to our congregation but I joined up right away. I was the captain of our Senior Bible quiz team the entire time I was on the team. The UPC had two levels of quizzing back then, junior and senior. Elementary kids would be on the junior team and then the older kids would compete on the senior level. I never quizzed as a junior because we did not have teams when I was at that age. The UPC is pretty picky about what translation of the Bible you can use. The church of my childhood only read and studied from the King James Version. To this day any other version just doesn’t sound like the Bible to me. Before we ever had a quiz team I knew that I was special because I could read the King James version better than other kids my age. I had been reading above grade level since I started to read. I won big parts in the Christmas programs because I could read the text better. In some ways this raised my status. Normally being brown and poor would have kept me out of the spotlight. At times I would be disappointed because I wanted to be a shepherd or angel, but instead I had to stand at the podium and read. One year for Easter I was allowed to play the part of a Pharisee. I got some laughs from the congregation and it was really fun. When we started quiz teams I quickly rose to the top because of my strong reading and the fact that I could memorize scripture very easily. I worked hard at whatever I did. That hard work and dedication made me the best candidate for captain.
I have many happy memories of quizzing. I won trophy after trophy and that really built up my confidence. I felt needed and enjoyed the experience of being part of a team, that was the good part. There was a dark side, because of course there was. My coach Perry drove me very hard. He put expectations on me that he did not come close to putting on the other kids. I feel he liked all of the attention we were receiving from the church leadership as we traveled around the state racking up wins. Soon winning became everything and the pressure on me as captain of the team was very high. I feel Perry knew that I was pretty much a free range child and no one was going to complain if I was driven to exhaustion. He was completely without empathy or compassion. As time went on I became more aware of his attitude towards me and it was heartbreaking. In the beginning I felt very accepted by him and his wife Connie. We traveled the state together and it felt good to get praise and a sense of belonging from adults. By the time it was over I felt like a tool that had outlived its usefulness.
I was really struggling with algebra during this time. I went to Perry and told him I needed help. I could not manage all of the verses he wanted me to memorize and get through the math homework I was saddled with. I would cry alone in my room trying to get the story problems right knowing that I had hours of memorization to complete. Not to mention all of the scripture memorization that had to happen for my school work. Something had to give and school always came first. At this point he was having me memorize all of my chapters and when that was complete circle around and memorize everyone else’s material. He told me as captain I had to be able to answer every question that might come up, I mean what if someone gets sick? He did not have much confidence in my teammates and so the pressure all fell on me. Each team had three main players at the table and could have two substitutes waiting behind them. One season we memorized Paul’s epistles and each of us had an “equal” number of chapters to memorize. At one time I had most of them committed to memory. You were required to answer the questions verbatim and any wrong word would mean not getting points. It amazes me to think of it now! What if I had been encouraged to use that power to learn and memorize more useful things? What could I have done?
I was a little afraid to talk to Perry about my problems but I made myself do it. At this point I was 15 and I was trying to handle things in an adult manner. I figured I just need to have an adult heart to heart with him. He would see how much I had thought about it and how troubled I was and surely help me out. I told him I needed a lighter load because I really needed to focus on my school issues. As you might expect I did not get any help or permission to rest from him. Scowling at me he reminded me of how important my role was and told me I just needed to dig deep and work harder. At first I did not push back and walking away my load felt even heavier than when I first sat down with him.
As time marched on, the stress of a number of things started to add up. Perry was not a very nice guy and over time this became very apparent. He was controlling and could really behave like a brute. He was ex-military and it showed. He treated his wife like a servant and would berate her in front of us. She was a gentle soul, the perfect submissive wife. By this time there was a tiny flame of anger always burning within me. I would watch how he behaved and it made me want to lose the quiz meets. I did not want to win for him. Two things happened that I believed pushed me to the edge. One was I got sick. I mean really sick the night before an out of town quiz meet. I was running a high fever and I had a very painful sore throat. It came out of nowhere. My mother had bundled me up in front of the t.v. and told me there was no way I could compete the next day. I cried, sobbed, all of the pressure running out of me. I was falling apart and this meant she had to act. She called Perry and told him I was really sick and couldn’t compete. He asked to speak to me. I’m sure just to verify that I sounded sick. He told me he would have the whole church pray and he was sure I would be fine the next day. At that moment I didn’t care. My head was so hot and my whole body ached. I was healed! Well kinda, the next day my fever broke and my sore throat was much better. I was still running a low grade fever and coughing, my body hurt everywhere and I was exhausted but my recovery was good enough to call it a miracle for the team. I won that day and it was all due to the power of prayer. Perry saw it as another sign that my being on the team was God’s will.
Next came my worst day as the team captain. We went to Sturtevant Wisconsin for an important competition and I almost refused to show up to play. I was getting towards the end of my ability to be around him. He had yelled at his wife the night before for something that was clearly his fault. I was so embarrassed for her and I told him he was being a jerk. This kind of behavior was unheard of for a young woman of my age, and he yelled at me and told me I was being rebellious. That was a serious accusation in my church. Witches were rebellious and we all know what the Bible says about witches.
“Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.” Exodus 22:18
I ran up to the room I was staying in and sobbed with hot anger. I turned on my little radio to the most sinful music I could find, Rock You Like A Hurricane by Scorpions. I could not play it loudly so I had to press my ear to the speaker. I had so much pent up rage. Being angry was just not done by women and I had been storing mine for a long long time. A couple of my teammates came in and talked me down. They convinced me to play the next day. They all witnessed how Perry behaved and they agreed with me even if they did not have the courage to speak up. We all sat there in silence. The room filled with tension and a sense of hopelessness. I went to the meet the next day but my heart wasn’t in it. I was a zombie. I recognize this feeling even now. I get very still and expressionless. It’s like I just shut down. I did not answer many questions that day and many adults asked me if I was ok. It was obvious I was not, Perry was livid, and I just wanted to run away. Little did I know that was one of my last games. Soon after I quit. Perry was not ok with my choice but had little power to stop me. After that he turned most of his focus to the junior team and I started to fade away. I’m proud of my young self for setting boundaries. This brave action set my feet on the path of leaving.
The exhibition game. When our team first started to compete it became apparent that I was a force to be reckoned with. There was only one person in the state who could beat me and another who was always at my heels. Perry got this idea in his head that it would be good for us to have an exhibition game with some of the ministers from our congregation. At first this idea excited me because I thought it would be a chance for me to compete with people who should know all of this material better than me, a real competition! Sadly it did not turn out that way. They did not require the ministers to follow the rules of how the game was played and they basically rigged it for them to win. I was so angry and I’m sure it showed. I have little ability to hide my true feelings. My face always reveals what is happening inside. It also became clear to me that they did not know the Bible as well as I did. Perry thought that I enjoyed showing them up a little too much and told me to remain humble. At the time it was just another way the church reminded me of my place. Now I know that we really won but they could not allow a female-led teen quiz team to beat the anointed of God. This is just another way they stole my joy and made me feel that any pride that I might have was wrong.
In the end, I was encouraged to win but to not ask questions. I digested the scripture and tried to understand it. I would ask questions and often the answer would be that I could ask Jesus in heaven. My questions only generated more questions in my mind. Scripture just didn’t add up and all of my questioning made me a troublemaker. They couldn’t or were unwilling to see that I wanted to know God, they saw it as questioning God. As I got older I developed the opinion that I knew more about the Bible than many of our ministers did. This did not help me to respect them. They did not see my intellect as a blessing but instead looked down on me because of it. This made me feel really bad about myself. It made me question why God had created me this way. On the other hand, it feels good to know that you are smart and so I was always conflicted.
I see Bible Quizzing as just another way the church sucked all of the joy out of my life. I found this thing that I was really good at and it made me proud of myself. For a moment I felt some self worth. When we would travel the quiz masters would always have kind words for me and they would encourage me to keep going. Because of Perry’s pride and selfishness I was driven too hard and I eventually quit. I lost out on the joy of what I loved to do because Perry could not accept anything less than 110%. By the way, he only demanded that from me. I think the other kids had parents who would have put a stop to that intensity but he knew mine would be hands off. Once I left Perry stopped talking to me. When my usefulness was spent I was invisible to him.
I attended an Accelerated Christian Education school or A.C.E. If I could change one thing about my childhood after taking SD out of the picture I would change my educational experience. It would have been better to stay at my public middle school and get beaten up every day rather than spend one day at Calvary Christian Academy. Going to school there has impacted my life in nothing but negative ways. A.C.E. was big on being in the world but not of the world and so they tended towards isolationism. We never socialized with people who were not in the UPC church, so I believe it made sense to them that they should have their own school to further ensure isolation. I was really excited to start school there. My mother’s friend Juanita went to work making my uniforms which was a relief because we did not have much money for school clothing. This was supposed to make things easier. In one way wearing a uniform made it less obvious that we did not have money, in another way it created an additional stressor each fall. We had to find someone to make me a uniform and over time more and more that responsibility fell on me. I hated those uniforms. They were ugly polyester and uncomfortable. The worst part is they made us stick out like a sore thumb. I’m sure we looked like a crazy cult whenever we went out in public for a field trip. They were supposed to equalize the students. Wearing the uniform was supposed to take away competition over clothing and put the focus onto learning. It did not really work that way. Kids know which families have money and which ones do not, a uniform is not going to change that.
I entered Calvary Christian Academy with so much hope and soon discovered that I was wrong. It was nothing like I was expecting. While in public school I excelled at pretty much everything and always received good grades. Teachers liked me and told my mother that I was very bright. I never had any behavioral issues and I enjoyed learning. When I left Calvary Christian Academy my spirit was crushed and I believed I was incapable and unintelligent. As a side note, these schools have a pretty bad track record for traumatizing kids. There are support groups and FB pages where you can go to get support if you attended one of these awful schools. I cannot overstate how bad this educational choice was for my mental health. Whatever was started when I went through my salvation experience combined with being molested by SD was finished by the school. It was a completely joyless experience.
If I had to use one word to describe my time at Calvary Christian Academy it would be loneliness. We were required to spend most of our day sitting in a tiny office with slats on either side. We had very little human contact, it was a bit like solitary confinement. My mind would drift to just about anything to take me away from my lonely situation. Oftentimes this meant my mind went to SD, my parents, and other problems. Alone I would contemplate my life and in these lonely hours, my depression became like a roaring lion, loud and hard to escape. Maybe had I been in public school someone might have caught my depression and offered a helping hand. This kind of thing did not happen at the church school. Within the church school there was only right and wrong, black and white. If a student was struggling they never asked why. You either completed your work or you did not. Punishment or avoiding punishment was the name of the game. In the early days I was so thin and rarely ate much at lunch. I would go sit in the church parking lot and wait for the others to come out for recess. No one ever asked why I didn’t eat or if we had enough food for lunch. Our emotional wellbeing never mattered, what mattered was were we following the rules and were we completing our goals for the day. I would argue that even our physical wellbeing wasn’t much of a concern. I would go to gym class and we often held that class outside. We would go to a neighborhood park. They would stick me somewhere in the outfield amongst the dandelions and grass. My eyes would be watering and I would be sneezing and no one really cared. I would wheeze when I ran and I think they just thought I wasn’t athletic. What was actually going on was that I had bad allergies and playing in a field was just not a good idea for me. The allergies led to asthma and that caused my shortness of breath. I know I keep beating this drum but I feel it is necessary. I cannot overstate how I felt like no one at school or church, speaking of the adults in charge, ever cared about my emotional, mental, or physical wellbeing. Instead they judged me and others and kept score of our shortcomings. I was at church more than I was at home, in some ways the church raised me, and yet to this day they refuse to take any responsibility for the ways in which they harmed and neglected myself and many others.
I am a kinesthetic learner. Reading all day to learn and never having any experiences or debates/discussions did not work well for me. I was bored stiff and now getting a double dose of indoctrination. Originally I thought this school was going to be perfect for me because I was always ahead in school and bored with the slow pace of things. Accelerated Christian Education is set up so that each student can work at their own speed. All this did for me is provide me with the opportunity to be way ahead in some subjects and terribly behind in others. I did pretty well across the board until I hit Algebra or the dreaded math pace 97. Algebra was pure misery for me. It caused me so much stress and the lack of empathy and real help from the staff lead me to feel stupid and incapable. We had no real teachers, you were expected to figure it out from reading a booklet (PACE) you were given and then work through the problems. Our monitors and supervisors, who passed for teaching staff, were not licensed educators. One of them had a nursing degree, one was the church secretary, many of them were youth leaders, young ministers, and their wives. It seems to me that working in the school was some kind of hazing for young ministers. Put your time in here and then you can do other stuff. Be a youth pastor and if you do a good job there we will give you other responsibilities. They may have passed algebra at some point but that was a long time ago and it did not mean they knew how to teach it. None of it made sense to me. I would call a monitor (adult staff who were supposed to help you) over to my office for help and nine times out of ten they had no idea what to do for me. They would suggest I ask my supervisor who at the time was also my principal, youth leader, and at times Sunday school teacher for help. John Seidl had so much power and influence over my life and empathy and compassion were not his forte. I would wait, sometimes for hours, for him to come over and help me. He would get frustrated that I could not figure things out and I would end up in tears erasing holes into my PACES. My experience was that the adults would get frustrated because they did not know how to teach and that would all roll down onto the students. I hold John Seidl very responsible for all of this. He was the principal for most of the time I was attending. He never once offered to give me any extra tutoring and he never tried to find any other way of helping me learn outside of just telling me to read the PACE. I spent so many nights crying over algebraic story problems. My mother would look on with sympathy but she had no idea how to help me. My mother had been a truly awful student. She got Ds all through school and I think it shocked her to see me struggling. School had always been so easy for me. She did not know what to do or where to go for help. We’d seen a warning this might be coming in the 5th grade when I really struggled with fractions. Luckily my babysitter was able to help me and then everything was fine. I just needed a little extra to get me through.
To pass a class you had to complete 12 PACES (these were little booklets with a test at the end) and take the final test. If you did not pass the final test you had to take the whole unit over, all 12 PACES. You must get 80% to pass. I would often clock in at 76% and be told to start over. I even once had a 78%. It should take you a year to complete algebra and I just kept working through the same PACES and taking the test over and over again. Soon it started to affect my science education. You could not pass through science without algebra so my science education just stopped at physical science. I would be sent home with whatever I could not finish in school, this did not help, no one in my home knew how to work these problems. I would return the next day with unfinished work and then be given demerits. These demerits meant you did something wrong. I would have to stay in my office while everyone else went out for recess. I would be punished for weeks at a time for not understanding what they could not teach. Some of this is my mother’s fault. She should have intervened and found me help or maybe decided this school wasn’t for me. Instead, she left me hanging. The school staff knew I was trying and only one of them ever took compassion on me. One day Kitty, the elementary school supervisor, came to my office, one time, and told me to just go out with the other kids. She also helped me with algebra. She wasn’t a great teacher but she showed me some empathy and for that I am grateful. Those long stretches without even recess to look forward to are really depressing to think about even now. Plus now I was struggling and falling behind in two subjects. On a brighter note, I went back to public school for my last year of high school. I took algebra and passed with a B+. My algebra teacher told me I just needed to be shown a different way to look at it. He was a good teacher and helped to restore some of my confidence. I feel like if I had been attending public school and struggling like this safety nets would have kicked in. My mother would have been pulled into the conversation more. I would have had tutors available and maybe a teacher who would meet with me during off-hours. None of that happened, they just let me twist in the wind.
Because I believed that my supervisor was frustrated with me and because they punished me instead of helping me I felt even more like an outsider. I had no refuge except for maybe the library. Home was awful and school was awful. Because the school was in the church basement and because I would soon be a Bible quizzer I was spending 7 days a week at the church. I was at church as much if not more than I was at home. God and the church had completely swallowed my life. Instead of bringing me joy unspeakable and full of glory all I experienced was being driven to death by my commitments and judgement.
Every part of the school day was highly regimented. There was no time for asking questions or free thinking. The Bible was our main literature book. Why do you need anything else when you have the Bible? We never read any of the classics or really anything except for the dreaded allegory Pilgrim’s Progress. One of my great joys was discovering books, especially classics. This leads us to one of the most subversive things I ever did, I went to the library. We lived just a couple of blocks from our local library and I loved to visit there. I consider myself lucky to have developed an early love for reading and an understanding of how libraries worked thanks to my early public school education. At that time you were not supposed to read things unless the church approved or it was written by a UPC author. Adults could read things by Christian authors who were not UPC if the topics were marriage and raising children. The adults knew how to discern when doctrinal lines were crossed in a way children and adolescents did not. Because my mother was not strict about standards and because no one was ever watching me I would often escape to the library. My heart would leap just approaching the building. Looking through the windows and seeing all of the books was my signal that I could breathe easy. Within these walls were adults who would help you find great reads and not judge you or give you the stink eye for asking. My neighborhood library had a great kids section and young adult area. Later I would bring my own kids there for story time. Once inside, after carefully checking the parking lot to make sure no one would see me, I would make a beeline for the teen area. I always read way above grade level and so even at 11 or 12 I would seek out books meant for a much older audience. Once I found a book I liked I would quickly find my favorite blue cushion to recline on. I always sought out a corner where I could shrink into my cushion and hide from the world. I did not bring the books home so sometimes I would be disappointed when the book I had been reading was checked out. Once I was sunk down into my soft spot I would bring the book to my nose and breathe in the smell. I loved the smell of books, I still do even if it drives my allergies crazy. My happiness could never be complete or free of worry. I worried someone from church would come in or see me coming in or leaving. Now I see how silly that is, they would never be in a library. I think I was always scared. I read lots of Judy Blume who I loved in late elementary school. This led to other things, even romances. I felt guilty but the pull of fresh reading material was too much to resist. I would tell myself later how dumb I had been to risk my salvation for a stupid book, I would promise to resist and make God happy, but I never kept that promise.
I have to stop for a minute here and praise librarians! They were friendly adults in a world where that was hard to come by. They recognized me when I came in and were always ready with fresh suggestions. They made me feel welcome and normal.
I hated Pilgrim’s Progress. It was boring but my hatred of it seemed deeper than just boredom. To this day I do not know why I hated it so much. I asked my principal if I could instead read C.S Lewis. I loved the Chronicles of Narnia and had read them in the 4th grade. That opened a whole unexpected can of worms! “C.S Lewis is not saved? He is not UPC and we do not agree with his theology.” I argued, “It’s an allegory and that is what I’m supposed to be learning about. Isn’t Aslan a picture of Jesus? Isn’t it very clear that Jadis is the bad guy?” But I could not budge him. That was the day that I learned my most beloved books were sinful. They had talking animals and witches in them. How had I not seen it? I thought since I saw them at Zondervan’s (the Christian book store) they would be ok. This was a crisis for me. I loved those books dearly, like an old treasured friend. I never got rid of them, in fact they are in my basement right now. They are super dogeared and well loved. I read them over and over in bed at night for probably three years. Mr. Tumnus was as real to me as anything I ever learned in the Bible. But even the joy of my favorite books was in part ruined by the guilt of knowing I was doing something sinful and rebellious. By the way, Pilgrim’s Progress was not written by someone within the UPC either, but it was a part of the approved curriculum. It seemed like the adults in my life were on a mission to rob me of any little thing that might bring me some comfort.
Zondervan’s Christian book store was another way I sinned or played too close to the danger zone. We had one in our local mall and every so often I would wander in there and look at their books with one eye on the door. I knew people from church bought music there but the books were a no-no. Too much strange theology, too many opposing viewpoints. You might learn about grace or God’s love. The United Pentecostal Church International claims that their mission is “The Whole Gospel To The Whole World.” I do not feel I received the whole gospel, especially not the parts about grace, compassion, and caring for others.
One day when I was at the library and just wandering around and I discovered something wonderful, magazines! My fingers glided through the glossy pages and my eyes drank in all of the brightly colored ads. The librarian saw me and came over to tell me about the teen magazines. She knew me well and would often offer her suggestions. What? You have teen magazines? I knew about these magazines because I would see them at the grocery store but I had never purchased one. This was a whole new world. Even in my extreme joy at my discovery there was a strange knot in my belly. This was wrong. These girls were made up like harlots and the topics within the magazines were sinful. The funny thing is that back in the early 80’s the girls in the teen magazines looked much younger and more innocent than young women in similar magazines today. It was all about fashion, music, boys, and makeup. These publications were like drugs to me, I couldn’t get enough. My mother even started buying them for me from time to time when we had the money. She saw them as harmless but I knew that they were bad news and I should feel bad for having them. I liked fashion and dreamt about makeup, I even liked the heart throbs on the covers but in the innocent way young girls like boys. This is where I learned the tip about clear nail polish. After getting into trouble because of the nail polish these magazines felt even more dangerous. At this point I started to feel like two people. The angel and the devil. I loved God and tried so hard to be good, to act right, to remember to repent everyday and to be of service. The devil side of me wanted all of this contraband, this was my flesh, the part of me that was impossibly sinful. I wondered if all of this was because of SD? Had my sinning with him opened some sort of Pandora’s box of evil within me? Would I ever be right? At this point I could not imagine a life not soaked in fear, guilt, and looking over my shoulder.
Fashion and the letter of the law but not the spirit. There were always certain adults who seemed to disapprove of me and give me the side eye. This is not uncommon in a church that is so legalistic where folks thrive on judging others. They compare themselves to others in order to gauge how close to God they are. I was always careful to follow the church’s holiness standards when it came to how I dressed but I was too young to really understand them. I wore skirts or dresses all the time. I did not public swim because wearing a swimsuit was a no no. My dresses always came to the bottom of my knees or lower and my sleeves were always three quarter length or longer. In gym class the girls had to wear pleated culottes so that is what I wore. Still even with keeping these standards I felt like it wasn’t good enough but I did not understand why. My mother was no help really. Her main concern was whether or not I was wearing a dress to church. She had always required that even before we joined the UPC. She always said you have to wear your best, whatever your best is.
I became an amazing bargain hunter and that super power still serves me today! I started to babysit and so I could make a little money here and there. One day I found the most beautiful fuschia shoes I had ever seen. They were on clearance and in my size! I tried them on in the store and I never felt more fancy than I did at that moment. I was about 12 or 13 at the time. These shoes were ridiculous and if any of my daughters had tried to wear shoes like that at that age I would have said no, wait till you’re about 21. They had a four inch heel and they were a shockingly bright color. They had a fake snake skin pattern on them. I would never attempt to walk in shoes like that now, but to my 13 year old self those shoes were the height of fashion. I wore them to church in the middle of winter. They were a strappy sandal and not good on the ice and certainly could not keep my feet warm. So here I am at church wobbling around on these stupidly high heels feeling like a million bucks! That is when people started staring and even asking questions. Some of the adults laughed when they were asking me about them the way you might laugh at a child who is being silly, but I did not understand at the time and I thought they were making fun of me. It hurt and it took all of the air out of my happy find. “Does your mother know you have those shoes?”, “Where did you find those?”, “Don’t you think those shoes are a little too high for you?” One of the girls close to my age later told me her mother said they looked like hooker shoes. As adult after adult questioned me and smirked I started to feel shame. I’m not even sure if I ever wore them again. What I know now is that shoes like that would have been considered too immodest. They would be seen as trying to draw attention to my legs and therefore cause a man to fall into sin. But at that age my mind did not automatically go to those places. If my legs were mostly covered what difference did it make? The part of this story that makes me laugh is when I went home. An adult couple gave me a ride home and I must’ve fallen four times between their car and my front door. At first I did not find it funny but after the fourth fall I had to join in with their laughter. I must have looked like a baby deer trying to walk up that sidewalk. I was wobbly in those shoes even on carpet so glare ice was near impossible to walk on. I think I left my boots at home because I wanted everyone to see my pretty shoes. I paid for it in bruises to my ego and legs.
In the 80’s textured tights were a big thing. I was very fond of these tights that had tiny hearts on them and I had them in many varieties. Red tights with white hearts, white tights with pink hearts, and more. Soon after that came tights with a seam up the back, tights with flowers snaking up the ankle and tights with polka dots. To me they were so pretty and fashionable but to the adults around me they looked too old for me to wear and drew way too much attention. The thing is this was the early 80’s and it was what young teens were wearing. I did not get it. To me they were pretty and feminine. My young mind could not understand the connection between my polka dotted tights and men’s lust. To me it was about fashion, my tights with the hearts on them matched my purse with tiny hearts on it. It was about looking my best. My mother never complained and so I assumed it was ok. When I think back to that time I was the only teen dressed like that and I am sure it is part of the reason why so many adults gave me the side eye and did not want their kids to have anything to do with me. Especially the boys. This is just an example of how an adult could have come alongside me and explained how it looked to many people. Instead of gossiping and judging they could have simply talked to me.
My happiness was found in a $72.00 Jessica McClintock Gunne Sax dress. Every Easter my parents would buy me a new Easter dress. Many times my dad would come through for me. He hated being around for the hard stuff but liked to show up and be the hero from time to time. He took me to the mall and we started combing through the racks. My heart leaped when I found my dream dress hanging there. It was a Jessica McClintock and it was on clearance! Even on clearance it was $72.00 and I knew it was nothing more than a dream. These dresses were very easy to spot at this time. They looked vintage and were outside the stream of pop culture fashion. They reminded me of the dresses I would draw for hours as a child. In grade school I became obsessed with the Gibson Girl style of dress and drew those dresses over and over complete with parasols and fancy boots. My father looked at the price and said sure I could have the dress! I stood there frozen in my disbelief, then I grabbed the dress before he could change his mind. It was a tiny bit big on me but who cared? It was perfect and I felt like the richest girl in town for a moment. When I brought the dress home my mother was livid. She was so angry that my father had spent that much money on my dress. I was confused but knew enough to just go to my room. Who could understand my parents’ issues with each other? He bought me a dress and now you don’t have to, was how I saw it. My mother had every right to be upset. He never paid child support and couldn’t be bothered when I was hungry. She saw through him and knew all he wanted was to look good to me. Easter morning was the next day and I put my dress on with some pretty tights with flowers on the ankle. I was a walking flower that morning. When you are poor, and you have body issues, it is a big deal to feel so pretty if even only for one day. This dress was magickal! It had a lace collar that went all the way to my neck and it fell almost to my ankles. The body of the dress was a very pale almost white lavender and it had light green vines with tiny flowers all over it. Covering my chest was a light lace bib, this thing was like something out of a Disney movie. The sleeves came all the way to my wrists and were kind of gausy and ever so slightly see through. A slim panel of lace went down both arms. I was covered and I mean covered from head to toe.
I glided into church that morning feeling like a queen. The church secretary thought it was very important to point out to me that you could see through my sleeves. I have olive tone skin and you could ever so slightly see through my sleeves but you had to be really looking. I went to my seat and started to feel self conscious. Could you see through my sleeves? Did I miscalculate? Was this dress sinful? Once again one of the church harpies had ruined my happiness, but not for long. My friends LOVED the dress and it became a big deal for many years. When we would go to camp we would often trade dresses for the evening service, this dress was always the top request and in heavy rotation. Somehow it never got ripped or too dirty. It was magical. I recognized as I got older that it was edgy because of the sleeves but I wore it anyway. Now those Jessica McClintock Gunne Sax dresses are considered vintage and still go for a ton of money. My early teenage dream was to someday glide down the aisle in a Gunne Sax wedding dress. My first wedding dress looked alot like what Lady Diana wore on her wedding day, not a Gunne Sax but still hyper feminine.
I’ve written all of this to explain not only how the church stole my joy at every turn but to also illustrate how I did not understand the standards. I was following the letter of the law but not the spirit. I think I thought I was following the spirit of the law but my young mind just could not anticipate what would be an issue. My mother did not follow their standards and thought I looked fine. The ladies at church would make snide remarks but no one ever thought to sit me down and explain things. It was more fun to talk about my mother behind her back. About her poor parenting and not following the holiness standards herself than to take pity on a kid who just needed someone to explain things. My friends would tell me how their parents did not approve of my clothing and that hurt. I did not understand. My 13 year old mind would not have expected that a man might get turned on by the sight of my arm or a calf with tiny hearts on it. My world and self esteem could have been so much better had someone just been compassionate and talked to me about the standards, not from a judging place but from a loving place. I was proud of every pretty thing I owned because I bought most of it. I hunted for sales and collected bits of, what I thought were acceptable fashion, and kept them as treasure. But even that pride at having found these beautiful items was sinful.
“Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.” Proverbs 16:18
Looking back I have to ask myself, “What is wrong with these men?” First of all, why would they be looking at pre-teen and teenage girls to start with? If they are lusting after children isn’t that their problem? Why does the church ask young girls to protect men from lusting? It seems to me that they may have understood that they had problematic men within the congregation and so instead of removing the men they laid a heavy burden on the girls. Better to keep sleepy men around who pay tithes than to take action to protect children.
Surviving Church and Childhood 