Jonathan Edwards & John Piper: Sour Stomach

We were all still recovering from a sermon by Charles Finney at the beginning of Wisdom Booklet #4, when we moved on to the subject of history. Where we were assaulted by another sermon.

"Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" is one of the most famous sermons in American history. But if there were such a sin as blasphemy, this sermon would be a fine example. From a Massachusetts pulpit in 1741, Puritan preacher Jonathan Edwards described the Almighty as an arbitrary monster and his creation as loathsome.

Here are some excerpts:

...Whatever some have imagined and pretended about promises made to natural men's earnest seeking and knocking, it is plain and manifest, that whatever pains a natural man takes in religion, whatever prayers he makes, till he believes in Christ, God is under no manner of obligation to keep him a moment from eternal destruction.

There are the black clouds of God's wrath now hanging directly over your heads, full of the dreadful storm, and big with thunder; and were it not for the restraining hand of God, it would immediately burst forth upon you.

 The God that holds you over the pit of hell, much as one holds a spider, or some loathsome insect over the fire, abhors you, and is dreadfully provoked: his wrath towards you burns like fire; he looks upon you as worthy of nothing else, but to be cast into the fire; he is of purer eyes than to bear to have you in his sight; you are ten thousand times more abominable in his eyes, than the most hateful venomous serpent is in ours. You have offended him infinitely more than ever a stubborn rebel did his prince; and yet it is nothing but his hand that holds you from falling into the fire every moment. It is to be ascribed to nothing else, that you did not go to hell the last night; that you was suffered to awake again in this world, after you closed your eyes to sleep.

But when once the day of mercy is past, your most lamentable and dolorous cries and shrieks will be in vain; you will be wholly lost and thrown away of God, as to any regard to your welfare. God will have no other use to put you to, but to suffer misery; you shall be continued in being to no other end; for you will be a vessel of wrath fitted to destruction; and there will be no other use of this vessel, but to be filled full of wrath. God will be so far from pitying you when you cry to him, that it is said he will only "laugh and mock"…

Though horrified by Edwards' God, I was transfixed by the vivid imagery. Our family also had a dramatized biography of Jonathan Edwards ("Puritan Preacher and Philosopher") on cassette from Moody Bible Institute. Not only did the story cover the theological controversies of Edwards' time, it did not shy away from describing the aftermath of the Great Awakening--including a man in Edwards' congregation who committed suicide in despair after too many similar "revival" sermons. Between the audio version and the traumatizing Wisdom Booklet, spiders and hellfire became forever associated in my brain.

When Walt Disney needed lines for this over-the-top "hellfire & brimstone" sermon in the film Pollyanna (1960), writers tapped "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God". In the movie, the preacher uses his pulpit to manipulate the town with fear and guilt. No one commits suicide (it's a children's movie, after all), but one character declares with passionate resentment, "Sundays around here give folks sour stomach for the whole rest of the week!" Though not delivered in Edwards' characteristic monotone, many of the lines are lifted directly from Jonathan Edwards famous message.

Jonathan Edwards has been John Piper's hero for decades, ever since Piper encountered Edwards' essays as a seminarian. Piper told a conference in 1988: "Alongside the Bible, Edwards became the compass of my theological studies." In 2006, Piper reprinted one of Edwards' books in a volume of his own: God's Passion for His Glory: Living the Vision of Jonathan Edwards. In the preface, Piper writes, "Jonathan Edwards is in a class by himself in American history, perhaps in the history of Christendom....I take my stand on his shoulders... It is an honor to be associated with an Institute devoted to exalting the God of Jonathan Edwards..." And so on.

This is the same John Piper who pastors a church in Minneapolis. The same Piper who posted these thoughts on the evening following the 2007 highway bridge collapse that killed thirteen people in his city and injured or traumatized hundreds of others:

The meaning of the collapse of this bridge is that John Piper is a sinner and should repent or forfeit his life forever. That means I should turn from the silly preoccupations of my life and focus my mind’s attention and my heart’s affection on God and embrace Jesus Christ as my only hope for the forgiveness of my sins and for the hope of eternal life. That is God’s message in the collapse of this bridge. That is his most merciful message: there is still time to turn from sin and unbelief and destruction for those of us who live. If we could see the eternal calamity from which he is offering escape we would hear this as the most precious message in the world.

...During our family devotions...Talitha prayed “Please don’t let anyone blame God for this but give thanks that they were saved.” When I sat on her bed and tucked her in and blessed her and sang over her a few minutes ago, I said, “You know, Talitha, that was a good prayer, because when people ‘blame’ God for something, they are angry with him, and they are saying that he has done something wrong. That’s what “blame” means: accuse somebody of wrongdoing. But you and I know that God did not do anything wrong. God always does what is wise. And you and I know that God could have held up that bridge with one hand.” Talitha said, “With his pinky.” “Yes,” I said, “with his pinky. Which means that God had a purpose for not holding up that bridge, knowing all that would happen, and he is infinitely wise in all that he wills.”

Talitha said, “Maybe he let it fall because he wanted all the people of Minneapolis to fear him.” “Yes, Talitha,” I said, “I am sure that is one of the reasons God let the bridge fall.”

I wonder how Jonathan Edwards would react to Piper's post today. I think it would give him "sour stomach". But I also like to think that the melancholic Edwards would preach quite differently if he could return to Northampton today.

Edwards was a thoughtful man, after all--trapped in the 18th-century, yet daring to test innovation. He was unafraid of change, of shaking up the status quo by implementing new ideas, of attempting to reconcile old ways of thinking with new understanding. He kept up with scientific advances, even submitting to smallpox inoculation as an example to the Princeton student body to risk the experimental new procedure. He died of complications, a sacrifice to the cause of science as well as to "the will of God".

The Jonathan Edwards of the 1700's would never make it as a preacher of the gospel today. For one thing, he purchased and owned Negro slaves, including a man and his wife who were sold by the executors of Edwards' will. I wonder what they thought of their master's god? But Edwards gave his sermon long before David Livingstone explored the African continent. Before William Wilberforce campaigned to bring down the slave trade. Before ex-slaver John Newton wrote "Amazing Grace". Before the Founding Fathers revolted against England. Even before the first performance of Handel's Messiah, which opened in Europe the following year (1742) with the words of a very different God:

Comfort ye, comfort ye my people, saith your God.Speak ye comfortably to Jerusalem, and cry unto her, that her warfare is accomplished, that her iniquity is pardoned.

Little wonder I developed anxiety issues after growing up with Jonathan Edwards' voice in my ear. Little wonder I was so relieved to find other theological viewpoints and to discover that others, as uncomfortable as I was, were asking the same questions!

Somehow, in my combined fright and abhorrence of a god who holds people over hell and lets bridges collapse, I had never considered (though Mark Twain had) the possibility of humans choosing hell for humanity's sake, or of turning down the invitation of heaven (as Desmond Tutu suggests) in solidarity with the world God is said to have loved. If hell is a place of hate, but one can choose it out of a heart of love, then is fear truly vanquished. Sour stomach must surrender!

Jim Logan, the Stephen King of Fundamentalism

Did you know that demons can be sexually transmitted? That many Vietnam veterans' problems are caused by demons picked up from prostitutes? That a person can be "demonized" through listening to music, watching TV, or by playing Dungeons & Dragons?

Welcome to the world of Dr. James Logan, "the demon whisperer", "the Stephen King of ATI", pastor, adviser to missionaries, and conservative fundamentalist exorcist.

Jim Logan

Logan told one audience that he gets calls about house hauntings every day: "We dedicate the ground. Many people miss the ground." He tells about a missionary in Vienna, Austria who had to leave Europe because his "fourteen-year-old son got full of demons from listening to rock music". Logan claims parents in Missouri are teaching fourth and fifth graders to call up demons in the mirror and he believes government officials have demons assigned to them to influence them to oppose Christianity.

I would not know Jim Logan's name were it not for Bill Gothard. Gothard's signature teaching on the "Umbrella of Authority" taught followers that obedience and submission to the will of "authorities" (husbands, parents, employers, pastors, law enforcement officers, and government officials) would protect them from the attacks of Satan, which could not penetrate the "umbrella". Thinking for one's self or acting against the wishes of authorities was venturing beyond the safety of the umbrella and would expose one to the invisible danger of demonic influences.

But the Umbrella of Authority teaching would have had no teeth if we had not been convinced that demons were real, and scary. And that's where Jim Logan comes in.


Jim grew up in an "ungodly" home; years later his stomach still knotted at the sight of his father. Logan was drafted during the Korean War; he converted to Christianity when he was 19, through the ministry of Dawson Trotman and the Navigators. He attended Biola University, and then Biola's seminary, Talbot School of Theology. But he received his training in "deliverance" straight from Fred Dickason at Moody Bible Institute. Dickason, a professor and theologian, authored Angels: Elect and Evil and other books on demonology and "warfare".

Jim Logan spent over seven years with Child Evangelism Fellowship in Warrenton, Missouri where he served as a vice president. He also pastored at least two churches.

In 1987, Dr. Mark Bubeck founded the International Center for Biblical Counseling (ICBC International) in Sioux City, Iowa. (Read more about Bubeck's belief in demons here.) Jim Logan joined the ICBC staff in 1989 and stayed for sixteen years. Eventually, new centers were started in Indiana, Colorado, and Texas, becoming independent over time. (ICBC International has since merged with Deeper Walk Ministries to become Deeper Walk International.) Logan started his own Biblical Restoration Ministries in Sioux City in 2005. According to Logan's website, none of the counseling staff or their associates are "professional or licensed counselors, therapists, psychiatrists, medical or psychological practitioners." Logan has carried his "expertise" to numerous countries counseling missionaries, working especially with CEF, Navigators, and J.A.A.R.S.


Somewhere along the way, Logan became pals with Bill Gothard. Gothard was stuffy compared to the irrepressible Logan. Logan liked to tell how he was the last member of his family to give up television, watching his favorite shows alone in the garage after his wife and kids refused to have anything to do with it anymore. Logan like to joke and tease (behavior that would earn IBLP staff a rebuke for "folly"), and he would frequently interrupt himself with loud laughter, releasing the tension in an auditorium made anxious by tales of noises in shadowy rooms and men's voices coming out of small children.

The two men had at least one thing in common: a love of stories. Gothard soon invited Logan to speak at numerous Institute in Basic Life Principles seminars around the country, addressing homeschooling parents and pastors. Logan and Gothard frequently told each other's stories and recommended each other's teachings and materials. Logan helped Gothard write an IBLP publication (Life Purpose Journal Vol. III) that is no longer available. More recently, Logan helped lead IMI, an IBLP program developed to train young men to be pastors.

Gothard and Logan shared similar views of "iniquity", "warfare", and "ancestral spirits". A fetus conceived out of wedlock, for example, had to be prayed over to break the ancestral demons passed on by his/her conception. The brightness of the eyes were supposed to reveal an individual's spiritual state: "The eyes show me if Satan's clouding your mind" (Logan). While Gothard tended to avoid talking about demons directly, he had a lexicon of coded terminology he was comfortable with: carnality, evil, spirit of rebellion, heaviness, darkness, principalities, ground, hedge, attacks, tormentors, protection, and deception. Logan didn't beat around the bush; he was matter-of-fact about strange voices coming out Christian missionaries who had been invaded by demons.

Logan became a fixture at Gothard's ATI conferences. After listening to his tales of hallucinations, seizures, and demons being let loose in homes because of Cabbage Patch Kids or evil art objects received as white elephant gifts, or even "twin beds gotten from homosexuals", families would go home frightened. Some parents burned their children's toys, even putting dolls on barbecue grills while the kids watched in anguished terror. Parents like mine cleansed our home of Winnie-the-Pooh and all other "talking animals". Others banished Cabbage Patch dolls, My Little Ponies, clowns, superheroes. We knew our parents were dead-serious about our welfare: they were willing to make burnt offerings to keep us safe.

Despite having no credentials, Logan was frequently sought out by ATI parents at a loss to "fix" their rebellious or depressed sons and daughters, who must be affected by demonic influences. But he could be contradictory. Despite recommending Gothard's book against Christian rock music, calling it "awesome", Logan still found some Christian artists acceptable. He told one family that he listened to Amy Grant, and recommended Michael Card's "Sleep Sound in Jesus" album of lullabies at an ICBC conference, saying that the songs would keep children from having nightmares. Far more disturbing is the allegation that he failed to report claims of sexual abuse made by those he "counseled".


Gothard had been teaching his "Umbrella of Authority" for decades, when he had a new breakthrough. In 1992, Gothard introduced his Strongholds concept. He soon developed it into a fancy new package complete with diagram illustrations explaining how any sin or disobedience or "bitterness" could "give ground" to Satan in a person's soul. And if Satan had enough "ground" on this imaginary chessboard in the mind/heart, the victim would be plagued by temptations and troubles.

Notes from a lecture by Gothard, 1992

For years, Logan says, he helped people gain freedom from demons using the "direct confrontational method": he would speak to the evil spirits and command them to speak back. With the discovery of Strongholds, he could switch to a "less invasive" approach, helping people pinpoint the acts of disobedience whereby "the enemy" had been given permission to invade their inner being. By confessing and renouncing these "sins", a Christian could be "freed" from cross-dressing, anorexia, depression, "bondage" to masturbation, or any number of "torments".

In 1995, Moody Press released a book by Jim Logan entitled Reclaiming Surrendered Ground. Though written by a ghostwriter (provided by Moody), it was based on Logan's messages, with a foreword by Baptist preacher Charles Stanley. The book, along with some of Neil Anderson's writings, is still a standard resource recommended by Gothard for those who want to conquer "lust". It also received endorsements from Erwin Lutzer and Warren Wiersbe.

That same year, Dr. Kenneth Copley joined Jim Logan and Mark Bubeck to open an ICBC branch in Carmel, Indiana. In 2001, Moody published Copley's book on spiritual warfare, The Great Deceiver. Jim Logan himself wrote the foreword. Besides offering "counsel" in spiritual warfare, Copley was an instructor for teenagers in Gothard's EQUIP program at the Indianapolis Training Center. The ITC worked closely with Judge James Payne of the Marion County Juvenile Court, who sent young offenders to the ITC to be mentored by graduates of the EQUIP training.*

In one talk available on YouTube, Logan addresses a group of young people at an unspecified IBLP Training Center. Uninhibited as usual, he rambles about "helping" counselees with anorexia, who can never have "victory" as long as they have pride in their life, because God resists the proud. "If God himself is resisting you, you're doomed." Likewise with rebellion: "When I push away authorities, God will push me away," says Logan. However, Logan then turns to complaining about the food served at the training center, seeking support from his listeners who dare not express their  "rebellion" for fear of unpleasant consequences.

"If I'm nasty, it's for fun. If I didn't like you, I wouldn't be nasty... I've earned it," Logan bluntly reassures his nervous audience. One minute he is claiming that he came upon an altar where human sacrifices had been made in the woods on on the JAARS campus ("human bones, that used to have meat on them"), and minutes later he is mocking the modesty of Islamic women.

Logan seems to find Hell particularly amusing. At one point he chuckles, "Look at all the brilliant people going to hell". At another conference he breaks out in a loud belly laugh describing a small child being threatened with eternal torment in flames. Could it be that, deep down, this "good news of the Gospel" is just a joke?

The people who come to Logan may be suicidal, homicidal, depressed, or mentally ill. His office provides a data sheet where they are instructed to mark if they have hostility toward those in "deliverance work", if they gossip, if they have practiced any martial arts, and if they have desires for bestiality or premarital or lesbian sex.

While he may not come across as especially bright, Logan captivates audiences with his rambling yet spellbinding yarns of what he describes as encounters with demons.  And far from being politically correct, Logan can sound downright racist, warning against the "animism" inherent in native American, African, and Filipino culture. He has a story of demons "throwing dishes out of cupboards" because a house was built over an Indian burial ground and another of an African musical instrument causing a child to threaten a sibling with a butcher knife. The sister of the Ambassador from Togo asked Logan to come pray for her children and bless their new home. Logan says his interpreter saw Chinese spirits in the house, which had formerly housed a family from China.

Sometimes, Logan progresses from simply rambling to incoherent, weaving yarns that don't even make sense. For example:

In Indiana, they wrap an egg with yarn and put the egg in fire but the yarn doesn't burn and they bury it; "...and that group of people has the highest suicide rate of teenagers in America".

"The same spirits that stalked the Philippines walk in the Caribbean and terrorize the people on the island of Maui."

Logan claims one of his CEF missionaries, Larry, was a "self-styled Satanist" before converting and going to Indonesia. To break ties with his old life, Larry got rid of a glass pendulum he had used in Satanism, throwing it into a city dump near Seattle--but it beat him home, sitting back in its box at his house when he returned. So Larry and his family took it back in the dump and prayed that God would keep it there and this time it stayed. According to Logan, Larry still has "spooky eyes" from his previous occult involvement even though he is "clean".

These stories, and many others like them, are what I grew up on. When I ask myself how I could ever have accepted some of Gothard's most egregious "principles", I think of Logan. That's how. Because Logan claimed to have evidence that the spirit world existed, that Satan wanted to kill me, that there were real unseen dangers I needed to be kept safe from, that obeying my parents would keep strange voices from coming out of my mouth, or books from flying off my shelves. That the name of Jesus was my talisman against evil (unless God wanted me to learn a larger lesson from suffering).

My parents believed it, too. To them, Logan was just another Christian voice telling the truth, like Hal Lindsey (author of Satan is Alive and Well on Planet Earth) and Mel Tari (author of Like a Mighty Wind). That's why we turned the placemats upside down when we ate at a Chinese restaurant (don't read the zodiac!) and asked the waiter for almond cookies instead of fortune cookies. In the Merriam-Webster dictionary that I've owned since I was twelve, the chart of zodiac signs is scribbled out in black marker. We never took a newspaper because it would be too easy for someone to read a horoscope.

Mom chose to give birth without assistance rather than trust midwives who might be into "Eastern religions". We left church services when demonic music was played under the guise of worship. We did not acknowledge Halloween.We said a prayer for safety before each and every road trip, even we were only headed to the post office.  And Mom refused to consider using the Saxon math curriculum (popular with other homeschoolers) because she had seen "ghouls" in a word problem.

So it was huge for me to reconsider the nature of Satan. Ultimately, my faith in God required a cosmic enemy--an evil being trying to snatch my soul and longing to drag me into hell. My theism rested on a belief in a "personal" devil, and when I lost my fear of the demonic, my fear of god went tumbling after! My husband, who sat under Ken Copley's instruction for an entire week in the EQUIP program, lost a lifelong fear of the dark after finally reaching the conclusion that the "spirit world" is nothing more than a fantasy of human imagination.

Jim Logan has spent his life alternately frightening people of, and presuming to rescue people from, a phantom menace. Despite his lack of credentials, many badly hurting individuals have unfortunately been led to believe that Jim Logan's teaching could provide the help they sorely needed, and many more children and teens were further scarred in the process.






*Last year Dr. Copley's adopted daughter came forward, accusing him of sexually abusing her even while the family lived at the Training Center. Another victim has come forward accusing Copley of sexually abusing her while she was seeing him for counseling at ICBC. By the time Copley's daughter decided to seek legal action, Indiana's Department of Child Services was being run by Judge James Payne himself. Dr. Copley is currently a pastor at The Cross in Fort Wayne, Indiana.

Circling the Christianity Buffet, Part 3

In Which I Learn I am Not a Baptist

Now we were Baptists, or nearly so. Some of the men in suits were my Dad’s clients, successful businessmen in the petroleum industry. One man managed our grocery store, another the Christian radio station. Another dad sold computers at the local store. A retired public school teacher led the congregational singing, but many of the musicians we heard at church were professionals, some even affiliated with an internationally-renowned arts center.

I was mesmerized when a guest harpist performed one week. My heart melted when the pastor’s son accompanied his own voice at the piano on a visit home from college. The sound guys could have turned off the microphone when one of the deacons played a trumpet solo, but for the most part, Baptist music was crisply timed, properly rehearsed, and perfectly orchestrated. Only once did a soloist break down in the middle of her song and let the soundtrack run on without her.

The morning service, recorded and aired on a local radio station at night, ran on a fixed schedule. There was no open-floor "quiet time" and prayer was not spontaneous. The opening song was always cheerful, the closing song always introspective. Even altar calls were predictable, unless someone actually went forward and we had to sing another verse of the hymn. Personal testimonies and hymn requests were reserved for the evening service.

The Baptists were very sure about some things that we had previously left open. Jesus would return AFTER the Tribulation, and salvation was a permanent deal, unless you didn’t get the genuine article the first time. Baptism had to be by immersion, not for salvation, but as proof of salvation. They knew that God didn’t use "speaking in tongues" anymore, though they still prayed for healing for a long list of sick people on Wednesday nights. And their pastor had to write three sermons a week!

We finally left Bible Baptist because Bill Gothard had convinced my parents, who convinced me, that songs with a backbeat—even songs about Jesus—were tools of Satan. The elders were tolerant of our beliefs for a while, but they came to look with disfavor on a family of nine standing up and filing out of the sanctuary during the soloist’s "ministry of music" week after week, even if we returned to our pew for the sermon! It was a mutual break-up in the end, because the church introduced a "contemporary" early service, with a drum set up front, and my parents could not attend a church that resembled a rock concert.

So it was back to the church search, though we knew our options were very limited by now. Two other homeschooling dads in our town were followers of Bill Gothard (and members of his ATI program). One was the pastor at a Church of Christ, but their doctrine was suspect. The other attended a tiny IFB church close to our house. We started visiting there, and there was nothing offensive about the music if you didn’t care about quality, or the lyrics. The hymnal we used had been edited by John R. Rice, and the songs we sang were almost entirely of one genre (and almost entirely written between the years between 1850 and 1950). Here, there was an uncomfortable divide between the Gothardite homeschoolers (only two families now, but we made up more than half the minors in the church) and the rest of the congregation.

The pastor left shortly after we started attending, so we sat through repetitive interim preachers, guests, substitutes, and prospective young men interviewing for the position. In the end, the other ATI dad was "called" to the pastorate, which was convenient since his family was already living in the parsonage. He was a layman with his own audio-visual business, and it was odd thing all ‘round. My parents were not part of whatever voting process landed him the church, as they were waiting for the new pastor before they officially joined.

The new "pastor" ruled with a heavy hand. We didn’t know he was an abusive man at home—that would come out years later when two of his daughters escaped his house. We only knew he wore a somber suit and tried to make people feel guilty. We sat uncomfortably in those pews for two more years. All the normal people disappeared, leaving only the most rigid fundamentalists—and us. Since the former pianist had gone, I played the Gospel songs for the southern-style worship that emphasized sins, blood, and dying Lambs. Being a novice accompanist, I had some input on the song list, but the male leader had the final say, and his whims determined how many stanzas we sang. He typically announced, " e’ll sing the first, second, and the last!" I once told him I would hate to be a 3^rd verse in a Baptist church.

Much as we looked the part in our long, homemade dresses with our KJV Bibles, we weren't really fundamentalists. We were tolerant of dispensationalism, but not sold on it. We watched Billy Graham movies at home (sometimes skipping objectionable songs), we prayed with Presbyterians, we visited gloomy Lutheran Lenten services, we once attended Mass with our Catholic cousins, I read a New Testament paraphrase, and we didn’t think the evangelicals building the huge complex down the road were on the path to hell. Dad even read us a book about glossolalia—stories about people praying in tongues that were supposedly unknown to the speakers but recognized by others within earshot. Stories that directly contradicted the pastor’s sermon series on Acts.

At home, I dug out a songbook from the 70’s with familiar guitar tunes from the days of the Home Fellowship group and the Sunshine Inn. After Sunday dinner, I would play stormily, pounding out my frustration and wounded spirit in haunting minor chords. I sang "Our God Reigns", "God and Man at Table Are Sat Down", "You Are my Hiding Place", and eventually drifted to hymns like "Be Still, My Soul" and "Blessed Quietness".

One day the pastor and the one remaining elder asked my dad not to come back anymore. It was both a relief to me and a deep sadness. Other might talk of their "church home", but we were spiritual refugees again: too "Pentecostal" for the Baptists, too "plain" for the charismatics, and too "Baptist" for our Mennonite friends. Too full of emotion to know what to say, I wished I could pray in tongues.

Part 4: In Which I Return to the Beginning

Library Shelf: Dating Jesus

Today, Susan Campbell is a journalist and author in Connecticut. But she was once a young fundamentalist Sunday School teacher, door knocker, Gospel puppeteer, and Bible Bowl champion in rural Missouri.

Dating Jesus: A Story of Fundamentalism, Feminism, and the American Girl

I could relate to so much in this award-winning memoir, but it was Susan's brother, former child preacher, who spoke the book's most powerful line:

"Fundamentalism broke off in us, didn't it?" 

Yes, it did. Like a sword, fundamentalism was plunged into our bodies, and then it got broken off in us so that we will never, ever heal from the wound. Like Perpetual Jesus on the Perpetual Cross, we are the walking wounded. By now, the shaft is part of our organs and these smiling, happy people? They have no idea.

Susan writes openly and passionately, but not bitterly, about the inequalities she experienced as a girl: in her home, at her school, and in her church. I strongly identified with her obedient frustration! Ultimately, those unfair experiences, the questions she was not supposed to ask, and the thoughts she was not supposed to think, drove her--like some of her American feminist heroes--outside the church in search of justice and "the social gospel".

Although an experienced public speaker, Susan poignantly describes the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm her the first time she was asked to speak from a pulpit, which is "so not a lectern".

Still "Christ-haunted", she spends a significant portion of the book wrestling with Bible passages, seeking to reinterpret them in kinder, more inclusive ways. This is how Rachel Held Evans would sound if she exited organized religion. And because many of the pro-woman authors Susan cites (Wills, Armstrong, Ehrenreich, Rose, Stanton) are also now familiar to me, following her thoughts and reading her conclusions feels like participating in an intimate book club discussion.

Susan's church would not have acknowledged me as a proper fundamentalist. Regardless of what some of our churches may have taught, my dad never let us think we were the only ones headed for heaven. In my family, I suppose each of us devised, of necessity, our own theological framework to support the weighty framework of rules and disciplines and standards laid upon us while making allowances for believers who took a more comfortable path. Mine was a theology of superiority--a kind of lay monasticism for the ultra-committed lovers of Christ.

Fundamentalist or haughty evangelical, it was just as Susan explains: "We believed, we believed, we believed, we believed, and we acted on it, too.... And then, when the burden became too great, people like us started... running as fast as we could from the church.... We'd been lied to. We'd been misled. We were angry."

And fundamentalism broke off in me, too.

Women's Fashions Responsible for Crime & Hellfire

Today's Christian rape culture is nothing new.

From Clement of Alexandria ("By no means are women to be allowed to uncover and exhibit any part of their bodies, lest both fall – the men by being incited to look, and the women by attracting to themselves the eyes of men") to the infamous Modesty Survey, religious men have always been good at making women anxious about their appearance.

Digging through an old folder last week, I came across this gem of a tract. Years ago, articles like this one were an encouragement to me to keep dressing the way I was told to.

Alas, there is no date on the pamphlet, but I'm figuring the article had to be written about a hundred years ago. I've posted the full text below with my favorite parts highlighted.

Are We Dragging Men to Hell By Our Modern Dress? 

The old sign of the harlot's den was a red light by night, and women sitting in front by day showing their legs. The Bible says to Christians:

"In like manner also, that women adorn themselves in modest apparel with shamefacedness and sobriety, not with broided hair or gold or pearls or costly array." I Timothy 2:9

A preacher said, "Only yesterday my manhood was insulted. Across from and facing me on a street car sat a 'something' -- a female picking her teeth. Her dress was above her knees with no effort to keep them together. Horrors! What are we coming to when a clean man must cover his face with a paper or turn his head the other way to keep from seeing entirely too much? It seems that many of these she animals have lost all modesty and are out for sale, offering all that is left -- just leg! legs!! legs!!!"

A good lady said, "These knee-length dresses are not modest. The Holy Spirit showed me that at least half of the calf of the leg should be covered."

Hear what Dr. [Perry] Lichtenstein, Physician of Tombs Prison in New York City, who is able to speak authoritatively on the causes of crime, says: (He has seen, in 12 years, 170,000 prisoners pass over the 'Bridge of Sighs', and he ought to know.) "The so called crimes of passion are increasing alarmingly, and will continue to do so in my opinion until the principal cause is eliminated. This, it seems to me, is the present style of dress which, to say the least, is immodest. Rolled stockings and similar styles have a direct bearing on crime incitation no matter how innocent the wearer may be." It is safe to say that there would be much less crime today, far fewer homes whose happiness has been blasted forever by unfaithfulness, fewer divorce trials, less violations of maidenly honor, if everyone of these underworld styles could be thrown into the deepest Hell.

Dr. [Thomas De Witt] Talmadge said, "Thousands of men are in Hell, whose eternal damnation is due to the improper dress of women."

In a neighboring town lives a boy who was graduated from the State University with the highest honors. Later he had a fine position but acquired a venereal disease, went insane, and now is in the insane asylum part of the time--all because of lust. 

Low necks, short dresses scarcely to the knees, bare arms, painted faces--in a word--everything to arouse passion and lust is the order of the day.

"Everybody does it!" I know--but do you belong to the 'everybodies' or are you a pilgrim?
I went to Bible school, and one day the teacher had a special meeting of the girls and told them if they would let the Lord talk to them, they would lengthen their dresses. When the school had a social gathering, one boy left the party when the girls were playing games, etc. He could see too much, he said.

When women come with knee length dresses, and stoop to pick up apples, I think the men can see more that it is the Lord's will for them to see.

I would rather wear my dresses a longer length and please the Lord, than to try to please a hard-to-please fickle world. We surely will never send men to Hell by wearing longer dresses.

D.L. Moody in his book, Prevailing Prayer, said, "Why is it that many of our children are going down to a dishonored grave? Many Godly parents find that their children are going astray. Does it arise from some secret sin clinging around the heart? I sometimes tremble when I hear people quote promises, and say that God is bound to fulfill those promises to them, when all the time there is something in their own lives which they are not willing to give up. It is well to search our hearts and find out why our prayers are not answered."

One saintly woman, who wore rather long dresses, said, when she put on a shorter dress, the Lord would not hear her prayers.

John Wesley said gay and costly apparel tends to influence lust.

During the first hundred years of her ministry, Methodism was the greatest power for righteousness of any movement since Pentecost. In those days of her glory, Methodism always insisted upon plainness of attire.

We may say if we wear our dresses a longer length we will look differently. What does Charles Finney (one of the most God-used evangelists of the all time) say? "I will confess that I was formerly myself in error. I believed the best way for Christians to pursue was to dress so as not to be noticed: to follow the fashions so as not to appear singular. But I have seen my error and now wonder greatly at my former blindness. It is your duty to dress so plain as to show the world that you place no sort of reliance in things of fashion.

If you wear immodest clothing that offers a suggestive appeal to sex, and stimulates those baser impulses which slumber in the human breast, do you think the Lord is so likely to protect your girl and boy in the wave of immorality among youth and others?

Preachers, if you think these knee length dresses are not modest, and it is a sin for women to wear them, will you be faithful to the Lord to warn them? Can you expect the Lord to put a hedge around yours sons and daughters, and keep them moral in this immoral world, if you do not?

I am trusting the Lord to keep my three sons pure. Can the Lord protect young people? I know He can; because He has kept mine moral. I couldn't commit adultery if you would give me the whole world; neither can I get mixed up in an affair with some other woman's husband (which is so common these days). If He can keep me moral, He can keep your son and daughter moral. The power of the Devil is great; but, praise God, the Lord has more power.

I don't want Jesus to say to me some day, "By the exposure of your flesh you have dragged men to Hell." Do you?

--Mrs. Dewitt Smith   (Reprinted by the Pilgrim Tract Society, Randleman, North Carolina)

Inciting crime in Moscow, ID in 1922

It all reminds me of Corrie ten Boom's dour and outspoken aunt: "To Tante Jans, the clothes in fashion when she was young represented God’s final say on human apparel; all change since then came from the stylebook of the devil. Indeed, one of her best-known pamphlets exposed him as the inventor of the mutton sleeve and the bicycle skirt" (from The Hiding Place). 

And I used to long for leg-of-mutton sleeves! 

Spiritual Abuse Survivors: Paradise Recovered

I love this piece, penned by Andie Redwine. It did me good to reread it today and realize how much progress I've made since last year!

We Are Spiritual Abuse Survivors

...Sometimes when people are vulnerable and need answers, someone pretends to give support by exploiting the needs of hurting people, using their ‘answers’ as a recruitment tool to get people to do their bidding in the name of God.

This is what happened to us.

We aren’t crazy, naïve, foolish, stupid, or lazy. We are human, like you. We have needs, like you. And, unfortunately for us, someone took advantage of our human needs for their personal gain.

We thought we were specially called by God. We learned later that we were just a means to an end, with the end being the elevation of our leader. 

Or we were rigidly raised to believe that everything on the outside of our group was bad. That only our group alone understood God, salvation, and the keys to living rightly.

We were taught or reconditioned to fear everything that contradicted our leaders’ edicts. We believed dissent to be wicked, evil, and Satanic.

And then we learned something about our leaders that made us question all that we built our lives upon.

. . .

We learned that some of our phobias have been granted to us by leaders who manipulated us into believing that the world is really a terrible, horrible place.

Of course, our leader’s group is wonderful and the only good to be found in the world.
Or is it?

And then we learned that asking these questions makes us expendable to the leader and the rest of the group.

. . . 

But one day, we noticed that many around us were genuinely happy. Even the ones that were supposed to be ‘really bad.’ They laughed, smiled, and were kind.

Some had faith, some didn’t. All were free to believe as they wished.

We were supposed to fear them. And yet they didn’t seem all that scary.

We didn’t know this worldly culture very well. Their music, their movies, their celebrations, their workplaces, their books, their relationships. And they scared us a little. Or a lot.

They also intrigued us a little. Or a lot.

And we confused the heck out of these people. They had no idea where we were coming from, and we were too ashamed and embarrassed to tell them that we had been in what they called ‘a cult’.  That we ‘drank the Kool-Aid’.  That we were ‘mind-numbed robots’ that had been ‘brainwashed.’

There was a lot of shame. So we didn’t say a word about our experience. We did the best we could to assimilate.

You may have known us for years and never known our stories. We can bury them pretty deep.

Because of the Internet and our Googling late into the night when we can’t sleep, we’re learning that we aren’t the only ones. Because of the anonymity that the Internet affords, we’re getting braver. We’re telling our stories.

We’re speaking out.

. . .

There's a lot more, including suggestions for how to relate to a spiritual abuse survivor. I am so grateful for those friends, old and new, who have been patient and accepting as I find my way, sometimes flying, sometimes just muddling along. 

If Andie's writing strikes a chord with you, check out this film she wrote and produced: Paradise Recovered. It is touching and funny; how you feel about the ending will depend on where your own journey has taken you. 

Mt. Moriah: Isaac's Journal?

Danish Cathedral Fresco (photo by Calvin)

And [God] said, Take now thy son, thine only son Isaac, whom thou lovest, and get thee into the land of Moriah; and offer him there for a burnt offering upon one of the mountains which I will tell thee of.

And Abraham rose up early in the morning, and saddled his ass, and took… Isaac his son… and went unto the place of which God had told him.

… And Abraham took the wood of the burnt offering, and laid it upon Isaac his son; and he took the fire in his hand, and a knife; and they went both of them together.  

…And they came to the place which God had told him of; and Abraham built an altar there, and laid the wood in order, and bound Isaac his son, and laid him on the altar upon the wood.

And Abraham stretched forth his hand, and took the knife to slay his son.

And the angel of the Lord called unto him out of heaven, and said, Abraham, Abraham… now I know that thou fearest God, seeing thou hast not withheld thy son, thine only son from me.

Genesis 22:2-12


I never doubted that my parents would have passed God’s test of loyalty. And like Isaac, my siblings and I bore the weight of the wood for our own sacrifice. The Genesis account never hints at what Isaac thought of this day. Was he permanently scarred? Did he ever discuss the trip with his mom? How did the memory of Mt. Moriah affect his relationship with his father? Did they ever go hiking together again? How did it influence Isaac’s understanding of parenthood?

Of Isolation and Community

I took the bus to Willow Hill Elementary for kindergarten and first grade. At recess my friends and I would play hopscotch, jump rope, explore, or make-believe together. Occasionally, they would invite me to their homes to play or for a birthday party. I was active in Sunday School, too. Though I was too shy to say much to them, I knew many adults at church and in my neighborhood. My parents were part of a small fellowship group and the families did lots of things together: picnics, fireworks, a hayride, swimming at the lake.

When my parents became homeschoolers, our social circle tightened. Mom was afraid the state might “take us away” if anyone reported us. One sunny morning she hauled all of us to the grocery store at what seemed like the crack of dawn to get her shopping done before “school hours”. I still played with the kids next door, but only on designated “play days”. We had the same church friends for a while, and I looked up to my Sunday School teachers, but we left our church because some people there were displeasing God. Yes, it was confusing. I rarely attended Sunday School (or youth group) after that, even when we were in churches with other kids my age. Most of my socialization now was with other homeschoolers: sledding parties, picnics, occasional field trips and converging on fields and orchards to glean free produce.

As homeschooling gained popularity, we became less concerned about being put in foster care. But then my parents joined a new group: ATIA. The Advanced Training Institute (of America) was an elite level of membership for followers of Bill Gothard and his Institute in Basic Life Principles (formerly Institute in Basic Youth Conflicts). My parents had attended his seminars for years. Now his homeschooling program offered a way to get the loyal, loving, godly family you always wanted. Financial freedom, stronger character, better health, and fulfilling family relationships included! Plus, all the educational materials, from math to language arts, were based directly on the Bible!

  

We moved across town that summer, to a farmhouse in the country. My dad started his own business: it was different to have him working from home all day. And we embarked on the new ATI adventure. Our social circled narrowed even more from that point, consisting of church acquaintances (we changed churches every few years) and conservative homeschooling friends. We saw my grandparents twice a year at most; while skeptical of many of our religious quirks, they tried not to rock the boat or criticize my parents to us kids. There were no trusted adults in my life that didn’t defend my parents’ beliefs and lifestyle choices.

We joined a larger evangelical church and my parents were admired for their dedication. With six children now, we could really fill up a pew.  Now in my mid-teens, I longed to make friends but had little in common with my peers there. Many of their activities (movies, concerts, parties, sports, even jobs) were forbidden in my family. There were hardly any other homeschoolers.  I looked forward to ATI conferences where I could meet others my age that dressed, behaved, and thought like I did. A few became penpals and are still friends today.

Later, we moved to even more conservative churches where homeschooling was the norm.  At home, there were babies to change, toddlers to feed, and children to educate; my help was sorely needed, and often appreciated. I had a friend at church, and meeting for lunch together was a rare and special treat.  There were no boyfriends, no dates. St. Paul said we should be content with food and clothing. I had a bed and three meals a day and could earn a little spending money from my dad besides. Now in my 20’s, I tried to use my loneliness to push me closer to God. I tried to mentally prepare for a life of singleness if necessary, while yearning for a soulmate of my own.

I was 22 when I moved out of state to work (unpaid) for one of Gothard’s “ministries”. My social network was limited to other cult members (we attended only churches that had been “approved” by the leadership and shopping outings were on an as-needed basis). Chores at the center were mandatory, as was scripture memory and attendance of daily morning Bible studies. Still, I made new friends from all over the country and savored the chance to live and work with peers.

After six months of volunteering for room and board, the law dictated that the Institute put me on the payroll. With only $13 left in my checking account, I was relieved to hear this! I was a minimum-wage employee for one year, moving from the Oklahoma center to the Indianapolis compound to the “Headquarters” campus in Illinois, working in three different departments before I was summarily fired because Gothard felt my 20-year-old brother threatened his authority. My parents called me late one night to tell me that Bill Gothard wanted them to pick me up the next morning and take me home to Michigan. He didn’t tell me himself, nor did my boss. Being ignorant of life “on the outside”, I had no idea how abnormal this was, but it hurt like hell. I started packing my belongings. My dad arrived at noon, I shook hands with the man I would marry two years later, and we headed “home”.

After a year and a half of full-blown work for the cult, this trip was surreal—like going back in time. I sipped my Arby’s Jamocha shake and tried to sort out what was happening.  I felt discarded, displaced, separated from friends without a chance to say goodbye. For weeks, I cried myself to sleep. I was in a place I did not want to be, and I’d had no say in the decision. In my grief, I found comfort in stroking one of the new barn kittens; it died. My mom miscarried what would have been a 12th baby. We heard that another young man who had also been exiled from the cult had drowned on the Fourth of July. The ATI director left his wife for his secretary. The whole world was going crazy and it was taking me with it.

Over the next year, I started taking more responsibility for my own life. I had my first job interview, worked part-time, visited other church groups, began to consider college courses, and applied for short-term placement with an overseas missions organization (Wycliffe Bible Translators). I spent a summer studying linguistics at the University of North Dakota and meeting all kinds of cool people from around the world. I loved college, even the exams! Away from my parents and the cult for the first time in my life, I bought my first pair of jeans, my first pair of shorts. I went to the movie theater with friends! I had my first sip of wine, my first taste of beer. I explored different churches, and enjoyed music that had once been forbidden. I spent time with guys who intrigued me, and turned down a guy who didn’t. I played my heart out on the piano. When my parents tried to exert control over my [male] friendships from hundreds of miles away, I was conflicted. I cried, but I complied.

In the fall, I flew to the Philippines where I spent ten difficult yet glorious months learning from the best mentors I could have asked for. The Wycliffe base at Nasuli was a humming multi-cultural haven set in a natural paradise. Though I assisted the missionary-linguists in their work, mostly I was being healed. From the security of friends and coworkers who loved and accepted me, I began dissecting my past and daring to think for myself. Tentatively, then with greater confidence, I let myself question the cult. I let go of deeply-embedded fears. I allowed myself to grieve over my experience with the Institute. I saw what a respectful, caring community looked like.

Nasuli was so unlike the churches and training centers I’d been part of. Here, individuality was valued; the group drew strength from diversity of opinion and expression. Instead of pasting a smile on the surface, these men and women spoke honestly of their emotional experience, both positive and negative. Rather than demanding perfection and informing on those who failed to measure up, these people tolerated each other, quirks and all, often making excuses for a neighbor’s idiosyncrasies. And nobody ever minded having fun.

Library Shelf: Losing My Religion

From his failed marriage and his "born again" conversion to evangelical Christianity at a men's retreat to his search for truth and his anguish over the pain of abuse victims, William Lobdell's story is intensely personal. At the same time, it is a professional story, intertwined with his career as a journalist.

A good book deserves to be talked about. Mark Oppenheimer has an excellent review here. Heather King has written an equally wonderful piece here. And Hugh Kramer's review can be found here.

I took this book along on vacation a couple of years ago and read bits aloud in the car. I remember driving through the hills of West Virginia and asking, "Do you think we'll end up like this guy? Will we ever lose our religion? Is that the direction we're headed?"

We looked at the kids in the rearview mirror. "Maybe when they grow up and we're empty-nesters," my husband replied. Until then, he figured, we'd stay in the church.

"I don't know," I said. "I can imagine it happening sooner." I didn't know then that it would only be a matter of months before my faith faded completely. And when I looked at my kids after that, Lobdell's words about his own children gave me courage.

Lobdell writes about harsh realities and glaring inconsistencies. Yet his tone is mild, as comes through in this talk:

"But the current of truth had me and wasn’t going to let me go. When I decided to stop fighting it, I felt relief — even serenity. I decided to ride it out — past the surf line — and see where it would take me." --William Lobdell

The Catholic Church

In this case, nobody says it better than Stephen Fry. 

Library Shelf: Triumph

When Texas raided the Yearning for Zion Ranch in 2008, I followed the news stories for months. I felt an emotional connection with the secluded FLDS children who had been suddenly thrust into an environment they had been taught would threaten their eternal souls, separated from their families, faced with unfamiliar food and clothing, trying to make sense of a culture foreign to them. Having grown up in a cult myself, I was ready and willing to be a foster parent to any of those kids, had it been possible!

So I was thrilled to discover this book by Carolyn Jessop, an ex-wife of the YFZ cult leader. During the proceedings in Texas, she became an adviser to state authorities about what they were dealing with in the FLDS. And by the end of the first chapter of this book, she became one of my favorite heroines.

I cannot recommend Triumph highly enough. This is the story of a brave woman's determination to leave the patriarchal, abusive, totalitarian Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints cult and her struggle to create a brand-new life for herself and her eight children. Read an excerpt here.

I love that Carolyn takes the time to recount how her mind slowly changed along the way, the radio programs that gave her a new perspective on healthy relationships, the secret trips to work out at Curves,  how she experimented and waited until she was ready to thoroughly leave patriarchy behind. Hers was no sudden decision but a methodical plan based on new beliefs and thought patterns that gradually overwrote the old.

Carolyn with her sister-wives

"But the men were onto something: exercise is dangerous. Once women start getting control over their bodies, they think about getting control over their lives. After a woman loses fifteen pounds and likes the way she looks, having that ninth or tenth child is less appealing. Getting in touch with her body puts her in touch with other areas of her life, like sexuality. Women who claimed sexual power were as threatening to the FLDS as women who claimed any other power. We weren’t supposed to have sexual needs; we were merely the breeding stock that kept the cult replenished."

Carolyn's story has its disappointments and setbacks (her oldest daughter later returned to the cult), but it is overwhelmingly inspiring. And the chapter on homeschooling should be required reading for every state legislator.

Outgrowing Faith

As I've made my "spiritual" journey, I have been surprised to discover how very ordinary it is to leave the God of one's childhood. Perhaps I shouldn't be startled, considering what resilient and adaptive creatures we humans are.

So many passionate artists have painful experiences with religion woven into their past lives. Stories of changing their belief, of trying to make it fit better, or of abandoning it altogether.

Below are a few names you might recognize.

Brad Pitt, raised evangelical, is now an atheist/agnostic. He was "brought up being told things were God's way, and when things didn't work out it was called God's plan."

“I had questions about Christianity that I could not get answered to my satisfaction, questions that I’d been asking since I was in kindergarten. I realized it didn’t feel right to me, that one question just led to another.  It was like going down a rabbit hole, each answer provoking another question.”

Madonna, third of six children, lost her mother to breast cancer when she was only five. The cancer was diagnosed, but could not be treated because Madonna's mother (a devout Catholic) was pregnant. By the time Madonna's youngest sister was born, it was too late. "My mother was a religious zealot," Madonna said in an interview. Madonna now practices Kabbalah, an ancient Jewish mysticism.

"There was a time I was happy in my life
There was a time I believed I'd live forever
There was a time I prayed to Jesus Christ
There was a time I had a mother
It was nice"                                 (Madonna's "Mother and Father")

Michael Jackson had a contradictory childhood in the Jehovah's Witnesses (Watchtower). Much has been written about his confusion, his guilt, and his faith. His tense and unhappy relationship with the group ended in the 1980's when they shunned his sister.

Ryan Gosling grew up Mormon. In his words: "My mother admits it: She says, you were raised by a religious zealot. She's different now, but at the time, it was a part of everything - what they ate, how they thought ... " In another interview, Gosling marvels with gentle sincerity "that somebody can say, yeah, it doesn't make sense but I'm going to believe it anyway."

Amy Adams' family was Mormon when she was young. She says that early exposure to religion shaped her values (and created lasting religious guilt). From an interview on her blog:

"I don’t think a child’s brain can really grasp religious concepts without being indoctrinated a little bit. I remember being really upset because my grandfather drank coffee. I thought, ‘Oh my gosh, Grandpa’s going to hell for drinking coffee!’ I cried in Sunday school. But religion can be a positive thing in people’s lives. It provides an amazing support system if you embrace it. There’s always that part of me that wishes that would have been enough, that I could have been happy with that."

Anne Hathaway left the Catholic Church because of the way it excluded gay people, like her brother. Anne, in an interview with Terry Gross:

"Faith is important to me. You know, being raised with one faith and having to go out into the unknown and try to cobble together another, that was hard. But I wasn’t really leaving something because I realized I couldn't have faith in this religion that would exclude anyone, particularly my brother, for the way he’s born and for loving someone."

Hugh Jackman grew up attending Billy Graham's Australia crusades after his parents were "born-again". "But ultimately, the Christian religion didn't really click with me - it left too many questions unanswered," he said in a British interview. "I couldn't get past the fact that 95 per cent of people on the planet are going to hell because they are non-Christian. I believe more in cause and effect."

Katy Perry couldn't eat Lucky Charms as a kid, watch the Smurfs on TV, or call eggs "deviled". She has rejected her evangelical charismatic upbringing and her parents' intolerance. She told Vanity Fair in 2011:

“In my faith, you’re just supposed to have faith. But I was always like…why? At this point, I’m just kind of a drifter. I’m open to possibility…. My sponge is so big and wide and I’m soaking everything up and my mind has been radically expanded. Just being around different cultures and people and their opinions and perspectives. Just looking into the sky.”

And lastly, a hero of mine,
Alan Alda was raised, schooled, and married in the Catholic Church, but ultimately found science much more compelling than faith. (Believe that a priest can turn bread into God? Really?) Alda has written about his religious upbringing, and his response to it, in his memoirs Never Have Your Dog Stuffed and Things I Overheard While Talking to Myself.

Permission To Be Outrageous

This is the year of speaking up.

For the last fourteen years, I have pondered, questioned, studied, asked more questions, tested, questioned again. I have watched my friends in pain, and felt the same pain in myself. I have realized the consequences of "being strong for too long", and I have reached out to others for help. I have felt betrayed. I have been angry at my own ignorance, angry at deceit and manipulation, angry at the unfairness and cruelty in the world. For a while, the ground seemed to be shifting under my feet and it took all my energy not to lose my balance. Like a woman in labor, I had to focus inward and find my inner strength. I had to learn to relax, to calm myself and let the process unfold.

During the worst of that transitional time, three hugs stand out as momentous healing events. One winter Saturday at the art museum, I asked a stranger for a hug. Though she didn't know me, she wrapped me in her arms and I was reassured and comforted. At a Christmas coffee, one of my neighbors gave me a warm, enveloping hug. On an autumn night at a Starbucks near Dallas, I met an author who had changed my life and when I left to go back to my hotel, she pulled me close in a big, comforting hug. Each of these women shared with me from herself and let me draw on her courage and strength when I was in a fragile place.

I am a stronger woman now. Most days, the ground again seems firm under my feet. It is a time for looking outward again, for seeing where I fit in this world and what difference I can make. And I have given myself permission to speak out. When I was 16, I traded away that freedom. I exchanged the uninhibited expression of my feelings and my beliefs for a mess of pottage (or, in my case, a Walkman). Now that I am reclaiming that expression, my real self is growing again: impassioned, bold, and willing to take risks.

Instead of anger simmering inside, now is time for what Sue Monk Kidd calls "outrage". This year, I will be outrageous. I will not be silent. I may voice what I think, sometimes even shocking things. When I confront ignorance, cruelty, falsehood, or hypocrisy, I can challenge it--whether that means emailing a school principal or college professor, writing a blog post, or doing something more outrageous.

I will particularly challenge misogyny and patriarchy, religious or secular. I will tell the truth about my story, and share other stories that have been guideposts for me. As women, we need to stick together. To quote Sue Monk Kidd again, "When we set out on a woman's journey, we are often swimming a high and unruly sea, and we seem to know that the important thing is to swim together--to send out our vibrations, our stories, so that no one gets lost."

If those stories seem outrageous, so be it.

My Wife Has Her Own Head

I thought this was an excellent article to share for Testimony Tuesday:

“In a way, abdicating my headship was a natural outcome of my observation that women were not, in fact, unequal. Growing up, I sensed the oddness of it all, but it was only once I had a girlfriend, then a fiancée, and then a wife that I detected the absurdity. My spouse, I recognized, was not like an employee or a child or a pet—she was a co-creator of our marriage and an equal hand in our new life together. She didn't need a head. She had her own. And thus my announcement that Friday evening during the commercial break.”

. . . 

“When finally we ejected theism from our lives, there was little change in my behavior toward my wife. My final decree as head of the house had come years earlier, and it had been to declare our relationship equal. Leaving our faith behind cleared up all the contradiction regarding science, history, cognitive dissonance, and the afterlife. No longer would we have to use tortuous rationales to defend our egalitarian marriage; being atheists meant such equality was now a given. It was so obvious, we spent no time talking about it.”

I am so very grateful for a husband who has always given me the space to become myself. Observing his treatment of women as equals has helped me to realize that I do, in fact, have my own head. :)