(Warning: content related to suicide, self-harm and depression)
Background:
I was about 5 years old when I said "The Sinner's Prayer." I was sitting
in the car heading out on some trip with at least one of my siblings. While we talked, somehow it came to light that I had never
officially accepted Jesus into my heart. My sibling (who it was eludes me) was astonished
and informed me that I needed to ask Jesus to forgive my sins in
order to go to heaven. I already felt like a Christian, so I was
mildly offended that I still needed to be “saved” in this way,
but I said the prayer. I don’t remember if I said it in my head or
aloud. I was hurt at the implication that I wasn’t a
Christian, so instead of a happy feeling I was just satisfied that it
was over with and now nobody could question my faith.
I
was raised in a fundamentalist/evangelical Christian hippie-esque homeschooling
household in the Midwest US. My five siblings and I were raised by parents who believed
strongly in the infallibility of the Bible and the next best thing: Keith Green’s Last Days Newsletters. My parents were involved
in extremist pro-life organizations and were, along with 2 of my
older siblings, arrested multiple times for blocking access to
abortion clinics. Some of my earliest memories are of picketing
against abortion with pro-life groups. The household consensus was
that evolution was a lie, abortion was evil, gay people were going to
hell, and environmentalists and feminists were delusional. I grew up thinking these
views were quite ironclad. There was an environment of ridicule
towards people who didn’t think the way we did. While my father was
a gregarious person, my mother preferred to be a recluse and didn’t
seem to get along with a lot of people. As a result, we didn’t have
much contact with people outside the family and small social
group of other homeschoolers.
God: "Don't lust, or else"
Strangely enough, even within this very Christian environment, and lip service to the idea that it's your relationship with God, not your point of view, that matters, our spiritual lives were private. We rarely prayed as a family and did not often inquire as to how any other family member's walk with God was going. I got a vibe of embarrassment about prayer and kept many of my spiritual thoughts to myself.
Sex was a highly taboo topic. Going through puberty basically sucked for me, since I didn't have anyone to turn to with my questions. I was very disturbed by how often I thought about sex. I felt disgusting physically (since I was a greasy, pimply teenager) and spiritually (because I couldn't seem to stop "lusting" a.k.a. fantasizing).
One night, while I was earnestly praying, I felt as though I heard God's voice. I don't remember the exact words of what I heard, but it basically boiled down to "Stop having lustful thoughts or else." I panicked and cried. It was so, so hard not to have those thoughts. I turned off the lights and cried myself to sleep. The next morning, one of my pet gerbils was dead. I heard God's voice again. I felt him warning me that next time, it might not just be a pet. It might be one of my family members.
I was completely traumatized. I effectively shut down my own sexuality because I was terrified of God's judgment. I cried seemingly non-stop and self-harmed. Whenever I would linger too long on a sexual thought, I would think of my family members and how horrible I would feel if they died as a result of my own lust.
Due to the hush-hush nature of both spirituality and sex in our house, I never told anyone in my family about this. I didn't see how that would help, anyway, since no one would be able to talk me out of my situation. You weren't allowed to say someone's personal revelation wasn't from God, and lust was not acceptable in any case; Jesus himself forbade "adulterous thoughts." I felt trapped and I resented God. I didn't start to recover from this until I passed through puberty and my hormones calmed down. My sexual thoughts at least started to feel like they were under my control again, if not God's.
A stalemate
I
had always been a depressed child and would run away from home often,
fully intending to never come back, though I rarely got far. If I had understood what suicide was, I think I would have attempted to kill myself. When
I was about 13 years old I had my first full-fledged depressive
episode, triggered after losing a $10 bill at a waterpark. I sat in
my room, feeling completely empty and worthless in a way I had never
known before. My siblings took me out for ice cream to cheer me up
and their kindness and material comfort helped a little, but it was
obviously not enough to stave off the recurring depression and
suicidal ideation that would ail me for the next 10 or more years of
my life. My parents never sought help or treatment for me; my mother
was horrendously depressed herself and I suppose she just thought
that was a normal way to live.
For
many years I had kept up a pretty solid habit of daily Bible reading
and prayer. When I was about 17, I was stricken by another bad bout
of depression, and it was during this time that I began to realize
that praying was making my depression worse.
I could be having a fairly happy day, but as soon as I began to open
my heart to God, as I had been doing for years, I would collapse into
a depressive suicidal fit. My survival instincts swiftly kicked in;
as soon as I detected this pattern I stopped trying to listen to God
and switched to simply reading the Bible and occasionally making
emotionless requests to God in times of crisis. Interestingly, my mental health
stabilized after I stopped my prayer habit. Then afterward, when the worst of the depression had passed, I tried to pick up the habit again, but it didn't feel the same as it once had. When before I had felt “God” talking
to me, it had turned to feeling like just me talking to me. I was
slightly bewildered by this and secretly wondered if all the times
I’d thought I’d heard God, I was basically just making it all up.
God and I entered a stalemate: If he wouldn't talk to me, I wouldn't try to listen for him anymore.
Thank you for writing this blog.
ReplyDeleteYou had me at Keith Green. Not many generation Yers (assuming you were born in the 80s) know who he is. And not many people outside the pro-life revolution know who he is. My dad started the first Pregnancy Care Center in the county in which I was raised, right along the same time the Christian Action Council was making ripples in the media. I have many memories of listening to the LP and cassette tapes of Voices for the Voices, stamping copious piles of envelopes late at night, and attending meetings for the Organization. I have old black and white photos of my parents in basements of churches, huge glasses, high-waisted bell-bottoms, sitting side by side with other like-minded adults who wanted to see change, putting their heads together to fight for life, and I'm jealous that my generation lacks the "active" desire for movement that my parents circle (and the rest of the nation for that matter) seemed to embody. Our generation is much lazier I think, albeit, much louder at the same time.
ReplyDeleteYou and I obviously maintain highly different views and identities as adults, but I'm attracted to your blog not for the differences (though I find them very interesting though not surprising, as your story is the story of many of my good friends) but for the similarities: both home-schooled, both had a mom who struggled with depression and--it sounds like anyways--a dad who was too aloof of the issues at home while he solved all the issues of the world and left his home in want (though, we all have places we've failed, right?), both raised in actively pro-life homes, lots of siblings (I'm the 3rd of 6). Though, I think our families may have differed on how they approached other views, such as their stance on evolution (I am a "fundamentalist" Christian as many choose to describe, who is an old-earth creationist...we exist for sure! There are lots of us.), and their teachings of Grace. By golly! It seems like there may have been an enormous absence of it? It's completely a generalization but one I've found stands the test of time in my anecdotal evidence: the families who base the existence of their faith on "The Sinner's Prayer," ie: faith based on one's works rather than the grace of God (Luther vs. Calvin, I'm certain you're familiar, based on your well-written notes) typically follow a more legalistic form of reliance: we must "prove" our salvation, say X,Y,& Z etc., and follow all the rules or else God might strike us down, or kill our hamster. I've seen a lot of broken faiths because of this mentality. And many of my friends who grew up in such environments have "burnt out." Many friends were raised in homes where the welcoming of differences was discouraged--so much so that when these kids grew up and met people who felt differently than they did, it was a tumultuous experience, which shook the very foundation of their core. I find this endemic particularly to homeschooling and less of the Christian faith as a whole.
I'm very interested in hearing more of your thoughts.
This is certainly a book which defies the articles to the left of your site, however, you seem like someone who is interested in the subject of religion. period. And people like us typically like to hear varying points of view. Have you read Rosaria Butterfield's The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert. It will no doubt infuriate you, you will wildly disagree, but it might be interesting for you to check out, for the same reasons I've read several pages of your blog.
ReplyDeleteHmm, no I haven't read that. Right now, as you say, I probably would get too irritated by the contents to get much out of it, although I might check it out if I ever get to a point where I can read a book like that more objectively. Where I am right now, stories about sexual repression (which I'm assuming will be in the book if it describes a lesbian going into a straight relationship) are super upsetting to me (which you may understand considering the above blog post) and I've found it's better for myself to avoid them.
DeleteThat's not to say I don't find the psychology of conversion and deconversion fascinating from either side. My dad used to be an atheist and I believe leaned left politically, now he's staunchly religious right, so I know switcharoos are possible from both sides. I have a book called "Battle for the Mind" by William Sargant which talks about the psychology of religious conversion--it's an older book, and the author is religious-- and I keep meaning to finish it but what I've read so far is really interesting.