The Confusion Starts….

I was really beginning to enjoy going to this church. It was small, but there were advantages. Because of it size, I knew, well everyone. We were not lost in the balcony of some huge Southern Baptist Church, or confined to our “small group”.

Sure there were no kids my age, but I was used to that….somewhat. I had read an article in “The King’s Daughter” about Standing Alone.  This greatly encouraged me to not be so upset with being the only teenaged girl in my church. And the only teenager who wanted to serve the Lord!  (There were three teenaged boys, who quite frankly, were a bit odd)

Then came a day when my mom and sister were in the car talking about their salvation testimonies. I didn’t know it at the time, but my sister was struggling with the assurance of her salvation….and I guess asking my mom some pretty serious questions. I had fallen asleep in the back our Honda Accord, and woke up groggily to their conversation.

I don’t remember every word. I just remember mom saying, “Well the new Pastor says this about salvation”…. and my sister responded with a deeper question. They saw that I was awake and they asked me when I was saved. I told them the story about my New Testament Bible…that’s when I asked Jesus to come into my heart.

I didn’t think much of my answer then, and the subject changed.

A few weeks later, there was a “Revival Meeting” at the IFB church that we had faithfully been attending. We were not members yet…although we had been going consistently for about three months at that point. 

As the rival approached, there was a spirit of excitement in the air. Revivals were exciting times in our little IFB church.

This was the first time that I ever experienced a “revival”.  Any extra church services in the past, always centered on a special concert, or comedian/musician, A Play, a Seminar, or Candlelight Christmas Eve.  Not ever, just straight preaching for two hours a night!

As we went through revival week, I heard preaching like I had never heard before. That man would get up to that pulpit, and pretty much scream and squeal like a little pig, when he got all excited. He was so emotionally charged, that I got emotionally charged. I mistook it for the Holy Spirit moving through my body at that time. I felt tingling in my feet and goosebumps on my arms.

I honestly do not remember what the whole week was about. I do know he preached a lot about soul winning. He made me want to get up out of the pew right then and there and go save the lost for Jesus!

But he must have said other things too that bothered me….because a couple of weeks after he left, dad and I were riding in the car together somewhere. Dad said that he and mom were seriously considering joining that church. He asked me if I liked the church and would want to join too?

I burst into tears….Dad didn’t know what he said wrong, poor guy! But he finally got out of me that I didn’t know if I was saved,  so I couldn’t join the church. I think he looked a little relieved that he wasn’t at fault for my emotional outburst. 😉

He then comforted me and told me that we would go home and talk to mom about it.

When we got home, and I “confessed” to mom my doubts, and she sort of looked shocked. She had seen my transformation of a semi-bratty kid, to a young “teenager”, no less, trying to live a righteous life of obedience to Jesus. My “works” matched my testimony. But she also comforted me, and suggested that I talk to the Pastor.

Let me back up a few minutes here. As I write this now, I distinctly remember the pastor  always saying from the pulpit,
“Are you SURE you are saved? Are you Sure, you’re sure? Are you sure,  you’re sure, you’re sure? 100% sure with no doubt? I Can’t tell you if you’re saved, that’s between you and God. Only God knows your heart.”

At first, this little saying didn’t bug me. Especially when we first started going to this church. But as time wore on, this little word ritual from the pulpit began to wear on me. The revival preacher, also, must have said some stuff to cause me to really start to question my salvation.

Ok, back now to the story where my mom suggested I talk to the Pastor. Because the Pastor always said, “I can’t tell you if you are saved or not…” I was expecting him to say that to me when I talked to him. I was expecting him to help me sort this confusion out.

So we went into a little Sunday School room…my parents, him and the pastor’s wife….and I told him I wasn’t sure if I was saved.

He asked me what made me begin to wonder about it. I told him, “Well, after the evangelist came through I started to question things.  I asked Jesus into my heart at five years old, but I don’t know if I understood what sin was at the time…or the idea of needing to be saved.”

What the Pastor *SHOULD OF DONE*, but did not, was not assume what I said. He should have given me the gospel, and told me exactly what sin is, what the penalty of sin is, and tell me about Jesus, and His finished work…the death, burial and resurrection….what it all meant to me personally.

Instead….He nodded his head in understanding and said, “You were not saved then. Would you like to get saved now?” (Remember, he always hounded from the pulpit that he could never tell a person they were saved or not?)

All the blood left my body it seemed, and I felt light-headed. I was in shock. I know that sounds so silly…but it was true. I nodded my head…of course, if I was lost I wanted to be saved. But I was slightly confused. I thought he was going to help me sort this out? I thought he couldn’t tell me if I was saved or not?

So then he said, “You know what to do, don’t you? I don’t need to go through it with you” (Hind sight…I didn’t know what I needed to do. I was confused. He did exactly the same thing as the Vacation Bible School teacher did to me. Assume I understood. Assumed I knew all that there was to know. The only thing I “knew” was I was supposed to ask Jesus into my heart, to save me.) 

So I bowed my head, and asked Jesus to come into my heart. When I looked up, he was smiling, and said, “You meant that, didn’t you?” I nodded my head yes, in a confused state. Of course I meant it! Why wouldn’t I?

His wife grabbed me and gave me a big hug, and said she was so happy for me. They both said they couldn’t wait to tell the church on Sunday. I was so embarrassed! Here, I put on airs to those poor people in the church, making them think I was saved already, and now I need to tell them I wasn’t really, and just got saved? I was so nervous.

My mom, read me like a book and said, “I think she is afraid of what people will think of her, when everyone thought that she was saved.”

The pastor’s wife (who is very sweet really) said genuinely, “Oh they will be SO happy for you! They won’t think a thing of it!” That did make me feel a tad bit better.

I went out to our car still shocked. I got home, and got into bed, and had a hard time accepting I had just “got saved” that very night.

What I didn’t know, is that would not be the end of my “salvation issues”…it really was the beginning.

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Healing….Still At It

Before I begin with the post I had planned on writing, I need to address something about the previous post I had written.

*Note: It was made known to me that there might be some confusion about the “Snake Handler Church.”  The IFB church that I attended at that time was *NOT* a snake handler church. I Repeat. It was *not* a snake handler church 😉

When my mom drove by that church, that day, she said that she was afraid it was a snake handler church, with “tongue in cheek”. So I am sorry for the misunderstanding. I was a bit frazzled and distracted with getting that post written, because of other things going on at home due to busy daily life. Like my five year old tugging on my arm asking for their 20th snack for the day. 🙂

OK! Now Then! 😉

I am not sure how to really begin writing this post. I wish the words would just freely flow…that my thoughts would stop cramping before they reach my fingers to the keyboard. My mind and heart has so many things it wants to say, but every time I think about actually writing it down…I get stuck.

The vocabulary just does not want to seem to come. I know it needs to come. It would be beneficial to actually identify what I have been feeling. Feelings are hard to put into words.

This past year has been one of my “best” years yet. I would say 200% better than when I was in the middle of the legalistic mess, and even after wards. I am beginning to gain some footing and understanding…as well as enjoying life!

One thing though. I seem to be stuck in the root issue of…. “I am not good enough”. Sure, spiritually speaking, I have made leaps and bounds! I have a firm foundation in Jesus Christ, and everyday growing more confident in His provision for me…. in everything. With Jesus, I don’t have to be “good enough“…I can be me…He takes me as I am. He teaches me and leads me into all truth.

It with everyone else I have the problem. Myself included. Am I good enough for my husband? Am I good enough for my kids? (This is the biggest area of struggle for me) Am I good enough to make real friends?

I have realized that while I have been healed spiritually and growing spiritually; emotionally? I am lacking greatly.

It is so hard to fathom, that Spiritual abuse, reached this far. Not only did it wreak my concept of Who God is and what He is like, and how He thinks towards me…but it also affected my emotions with normal every day interactions. :-/ Ugh.

What should be normal is blown up many times its real true size.

A writer on the new blog designed to help and encourage people influenced by Bill Gothard, said it very well, when they said,

” Things most Christians take for granted and don’t give a second thought, send me over the edge. Certain events often bring on inappropriate emotional responses that are disproportional to the moment.”

Yup…Uh huh. That’s me. Things most people can normally handle, send me over the edge. Those “normal” irritants, give me emotional responses that are significantly disproportional to that moment….

And, it all can be traced to that stinky phrase….”I am not good enough”. I am not a good enough wife, I am not a good enough mother. I am not a good enough friend. I am not a good enough cook. I am not a good enough cleaner of the home. I am not a good enough driver. I am not a good shopper (couponing vs eating “real” foods and not cardboard meals), etc., etc.,

Just this last Monday, I identified this menacing phrase, that nags me all the time. I didn’t realize it had been such a strong influence in my life, until I faced it head on like a ton of bricks.

But that explains the fear and panic I feel whenever something, that should only be slightly uncomfortable, happens.

And sometimes, rather silly things too.

“I’m not good enough”
“I’m not good enough”
“I’m not good enough”

It seems, as I deal with one layer that the legalism mess caused, I have another layer to deal with.

At first it is slightly disheartening to discover that I still think I am not good enough. But it finally *explains* something! It gives me something with which to work from. A validation of I am not as crazy as I think  I am! There’s a reason why I can be so confused and emotional over simple things.

It’s normal, when one has been abused, (in my case spiritually) to have over exaggerated reactions.

For now. I am not sure what I am going to be doing with this newly discovered truth….it’s only been four days. I do know, that I will be taking it to the Lord. He knows that feeling:

” Isaiah 53:4 Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows: yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.

That gives me a lot of comfort….knowing that Jesus felt what I am feeling. And I will start to walk through this messed up layer right here, at this verse.

Jesus knows. Jesus understands. Jesus feels. Jesus cares.

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The “Snake Handler Church”

A few months ago, I was writing my story of my journey into legalism. I suppose I should continue on about that.  The last post I posted about this was about my family’s search for a new church.

I don’t remember much about the process of our search. I remember driving by a little tiny church often with my mom on the way to extra curricula homeschooling activities. I pointed to the church one time and said, “What about that church mom? Why don’t we try visiting that church?”

My mom said, “I thought about it, but I am worried that it’s a snake handler church” So then began the discussion about snake handler churches and I forgot about that little church. 😉

One day my parents decided to try a new church that was just starting to form.  I had to get up earlier than usual, and I dressed myself  up fancier than usual. This new church was on the way past that little “snake handler church”.

We turned onto the highway that the new church was supposed to be on. We looked for the address of the new church and to no avail, we simply could not find it. We drove up the highway, turned around and drove back down the highway over and over again.  Still, could not find the church. My dad was becoming pretty irritated at this point. The service’s start time came and went.

After we were about 20 minutes late, my mom told my dad to forget it. Even if they did find the church, she would be too embarrassed to go into the building.

I was pretty irritated myself, as I had gotten up early and dressed up, and we were not going to church after all. I asked my parents if we could just find another church to try, and they agreed.

Me

This is Me the day I woke up extra early and get all dressed up to go to church. I guess it tickled my mom to see me dressed up, so she took a picture of me.

It just so happened that the “snake handlers” church service had not started yet, and we would actually be “early” if we went. So that’s where we went.

We waited in the parking lot a good 10 minutes before we decided we needed to go in. It was a small church. Actually, quite tiny. I think the auditorium had about 20 pews total in it. It would be obvious that we were visitors. No hiding in the back for us. This was quite a big change from previous churches we were members over the years that had balconies, and no one really knew that we even came.

We came in and sat down. About everyone came up and introduced themselves, and shook our hands. Two little girls around the age of  3 came in from the Sunday School rooms. I thought they were twins, but they were sisters…about a year apart in age. They walked over to a sweet looking old man, who pulled out a stick of Wrigley’s spearmint gum for them to chew. They hugged his leg, and went and sat with their parents.

We sat there, pretty self-conscious, and finally the piano player started playing some hymns with gusto, and some guy stood up, who was the song leader, called out the hymn number and we began to sing. The attention was finally off of us. Whew!

I do not remember what the sermon was about that day. I do remember that no snakes were brought out, and everything else seemed fairly normal. So normal, in fact, that my parents were not too frightened by the experience and decided to go back the next week.

I kind of liked it there too. It was very small….but everyone seemed to be friends with one another.  I was also at the age, now, where church wasn’t “boring”. Despite the fact that there were no strong children’s programs…I did not care. I was a mature teenager now. Who need’s junior church when you should be in a youth group any way?

Um…and there was no youth group. But that was Ok by me too. Because in my readings of Hope Chest magazine, and The King’s Daughter magazine, and listening some to Phil Lancaster, I realized that youth groups were not very healthy anyway….I should always be with my parents.

So I liked this church. There was no youth group to feel pressure to join. And really, there wasn’t much “youth” my age.Three teenage boys…and I the only girl. The boys were weird…except one who seemed to be nice. He always came up and shook my hand at hand shaking time. With a firm grasp. The other boys pretended like I wasn’t even there.

This church was better in my eyes too. No “fluffy” preaching. Plain preaching, straight from the Bible. In past churches, I got “fluffy” preaching. Cute little stories, and little homilies. Honestly, I still find that sort of preaching rather dull, and I ate up the teaching that just seemed to come right out of the Bible.

I thirsted for it actually. That first year being there, I read the New Testament with gusto for the first time. It was like the Bible opened up to me and finally made sense. I highlighted almost all of it, and was truly excited to read the Bible.

Everyday, in the morning, I would read my Bible. It was an exciting time for me…to finally be interested in the Bible. I had seemed to struggle with finding the Bible interesting before that for some reason.
Though I was awakened to being “spiritual” before my Bible reading awakening, this was a “new level” for me. I was moving up in my spiritual walk and I was on a high.

Oh, by the way….this was an Independent Fundamental Baptist Church

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Upwards and Light

It’s been a while since I last made a post. My heart wanders here to this blog very often, and I have this compelling desire to write. But then when I try to write, I get distracted.  Partly with “real life” issues. After all, I am a mother that is very busy. I home school as well. Being a mom and homeschooling are emotionally taxing jobs at times. When the end of the day comes, I would rather veg out and think of light and happy things.

Writing on this blog brings up heavy memories, and at times I struggle to remember them.

Doing, “light” things, and vegging out, has aided me in my healing so much this year. Past influences would most likely call it, shutting off my brain and denying reality. Well, if shutting off the heavy parts of my life and thinking about pleasant things is helping my mind to heal, I will continue to do it. 😉

I want this blog to have a purpose. I want it to be encouraging. I want it to help bring a bit of healing to some anxious soul. I want to write to process my own thoughts and emotions. Writing does help me do that.  And I enjoy writing about Spiritual issues and shedding light on the truth.

However, when reading other blogs along the same nature as mine, I sometimes leave feeling quiet heavy, and burdened. Not totally discouraged. But I guess I tend to become way too serious about everything in life, and have a hard time loosening up when the time calls for one to be loose.

Part of my legalistic background was that everything was just so serious. EVERYTHING. There was a positive or negative consequence for every choice, action, or thought.

About 99% of the time it was negative. 😉 To question everything I did and worry if I had made the right choice, action or thought, was very taxing and tiring. To be serious all the time was taxing and tiring.

I am not criticizing those blogs that are serious the majority of the time. There is indeed a need and place for them in other people’s healing journeys. Serious blogs helped me when I was serious all the time.

But this year, has been such a huge year of growth for me as a person.  And one thing I discovered about myself, is that God did not design me to be a serious, black and white minded person. Not that there is anything inherently wrong with thinking with a black and white mind. God designed other people to think that way. But God in fact designed me to be a light and bubbly person.  He created me to be unstructured and spontaneous.

What I did to myself through legalism, was loose the real person God created me to be. The stiff structure,  and the “disciplined” lifestyle had majorly stunted my growth.

I became another person.

In writing this blog I don’t want to become another person. I handle legalism differently than a lot do. My story is not everyone else  story. My thought processes might be totally different from another person’s blog. The serious blog is not bad or wrong. It’s just not my style of writing.  I found that I was trying to adapt my own blog to many others styles.

I figured out why I have been subconsciously avoiding this blog.

First, every post of mine has leaned towards heavy.

I need to add some lightness and spontaneity on here.

I was dragging myself down with my own writing, which is why I have not posted much.

Second, every post was about my story. I was getting bored with it. 😉

It was getting to be too structured for me.

I will continue to post bits and pieces of my story, but every time I blog, it will not be my story. I need to write whatever inspiration at the moment hits me. I will keep mostly on the topic of legalism, but it will most likely have a lighter side, or slant to it.

I mean look at my banner. I even designed it to be cute, and light and happy. That’s ME. That’s my nature. That is what God made me to be. Even when I tried so hard to be someone else, my real person tried to come out in little ways. Even designing a banner to be cute and light.

If you read one of my first posts, and you see where I was when I started my healing, You will see what trying to be someone else did for me. It led me to insanity. I don’t want to go insane again! 😀

So to honor who God made me to be, this blog will most likely take on a slightly different flavor. It will still be serious at times, because one cannot avoid being serious at times. Even me. 😀

But on the other side of the coin….there needs to be at times lightness and spontaneity and just plain fun. That way, I’ll be more inclined to write. 🙂 Sometimes I just need to be more Upwards and Light…and see where the journey takes me. 😉

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The Beginning of “True Spirituality”

My last real post was about how I became enthralled with the Mennonites. We went to our state’s home school Conference and my mother pointed out to me Rod and Staff, and Christian Light Education. She had tried to point them out once before, when I was 10 years old and all into Little House on the Prairie. But I didn’t get it then. I just thought they were civil war reinactors or something like that. 😉

I stayed at that booth a *long* time. I bought a few “young adult” fictional stories published by Rod and Staff. They also had free sermon tapes about dress standards, head coverings, godly living, Christian family, etc. I took those too. I think I was around 14 years old when this obsession started to take a hold of me.

Home I went, and devoured the beautifully hard bound Rod and Staff “young adult” fictional stories. One book had a profound impact on me. I believe it was called “The Price of Peace”

That book really challenged me to live beyond “talking the talk” but actually “walking the walk”  I started to get frustrated with my family. Why didn’t dad lead us in family devotions? Why didn’t we wear dresses? Why didn’t we wear the head covering? We were in direct disobedience to God about that one especially!

This was also around the time period that I got an issue of New Attitude Magazine published by Joshua Harris that had an article in it, about other young adult publishers. Two magazines were written for girls by godly Christian young ladies. Hope Chest, and The Kings Daughter.

I sent for the sample issues of both. Mom told me to make a decision of which one I wanted. I wanted both, but she was adamant that I choose between the two. I chose “The King’s Daughter”

Those magazines introduced me to Elizabeth Elliot, Charity Christian Ministries, Bill Gothard, and many other “godly” influences.

I tried the best I could to put into practice what I was learning from the magazine, and the Mennonites. I started to read the Bible more on my own.

During this time, we were not attending a church. We had left a “hip” non-denominational church and hadn’t even begun to search for a new church. This bothered me…and I think it bothered my mother, as she saw how I had been suddenly awakened to be interested in spiritual matters.

So we began our search as family for another church….

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It’s Been A While

This blog has been severely neglected. I am so sorry. I have not had a lot of time to blog or read my favorite blogs. Homeschooling and taking care of “In Real Life” things, has taken up a huge chunk of my time. And when I do have “time” to write, I am so mentally exhausted, that writing about things that sometimes stir up icky emotions in me, can be difficult.

But I really want to continue this project. I really want to get this all off my chest, and maybe help someone along the way. So hopefully, now that I have a pretty set routine in my schedule, I will find same time to write more.

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“The Barn”

As my horse Shadow drove away in the rickety trailer, I bawled my eyes out, and my mom and dad hugged me tight. I didn’t know if the world was going to set itself aright again.

Not very long after Shadow left me…. perhaps a few days, Mom and Dad contacted a barn that boarded horses and gave horse back riding lessons. This barn was different from the barn that I had been boarding Shadow at.

Honestly, I am not sure how my parents found out about this barn. But this barn, proved to be a lifesaver for me.

The barn was only about five minutes from our house, which was a lot better than the barn that Shadow was boarded at.  It took about 20 minutes to go and see Shadow.

We arrived at “the barn”, as I fondly began to call it later on, near sunset. It was warm, but there was a slight cool breeze.  “Joe” (name changed to protect innocence) was a lady, and she was the lady that owned and ran the barn. She had a tough exterior, but an extremely soft heart.

She showed us around the barn and introduced us to all of the horses. I was shy, but she didn’t seem to mind. Then we walked up to her house and sat on a picnic table outside…near the lesson arena full of hard Georgia Clay. Seeing the clay reminded me of happier times in Georgia.

Joe listened to my story about Shadow, and then pointed across the pasture to a far  away corner. She told me that her horse, her very first horse, was buried there. She told the tragic story of how her horse died, and gave me a hug and told me it was going to be all right. She told me that life would go on, and I would feel much better in time.

This was one unique lady. I did not feel this way towards any of the “barn owners” that I had come to know through the years.

First, there was the barn where I first started taking lessons at. And although she was “nice” she didn’t seem to connect with kids as I look back in hindsight.

Then there was the lady who helped me find Shadow. Although she too was nice, she too did not seem to connect with children.

And then, when we moved and boarded Shadow at the barn where he became sick at… the lady who owned and ran that barn didn’t have much to do with anybody.

But this lady was different. She cared.

This barn was FULL of children. Children were everywhere it seemed. And they were there almost all the time.

Mom and Dad started me in on lessons right away, I believe. Not a week or two after Shadow was taken away. I was given a stubborn pony to ride, named Cracker.

It felt soooo good to be back in the saddle again! Ever since Shadow had gotten sick, I had not able to ride him. It had been several months since I had last rode a horse. Joe worked with me, and taught me some new techniques.

Every week that I had a lesson with Joe and Cracker, my heart would feel a little bit better about Shadow. I began to make friends with the kids at the barn as well. When I was at the barn, I was free to be me. I could escape the drama of my brother’s life, and drown out the loneliness of missing my best friend.

I would show up early to my lessons, and get Cracker ready to ride. I would be ready and waiting in the arena by the time Joe came out of her house. After the lesson, I would cool Cracker down, and clean the saddle, and just hang out.

I loved smells of fresh hay, and old horse manure…they just seemed to be the perfect combination. I know that sounds so weird, LOL! Hearing the horses munching on the hay, with an occasional happy nicker, brought a bit of peace to my soul.

Like I said before, Joe had a tough exterior. She was not a mushy type of person. But she had a heart of gold that really cared deep down inside. She did not believe in one being a”whimp”. If you were going to ride, you had to be “tough”. She didn’t like one cry for no good reason. But if you so did start to cry, she would listen to you. She would reason a bit with you, and then say, “Well lets get back to riding”!

Even though she was tough, her praise for any *little* “achievement”, was excessive. She made sure you knew that she was pleased with any small amount of effort. She would clap loudly, and make a shrill whistle. She would say “That was awesome!” And anyone passing by, she would make them stop and watch me do it again.

She pushed one to overcome their fears, and weaknesses. She made you believe in yourself. She encouraged one to see the bigger picture. She was good at what she did.

Being at that barn, became a lifeline to normalcy for me. I was accepted among all the kids there. We all had different backgrounds. I was homeschooled. There was a kid there that was on juvenile probation, (Joe was trying to get him on the right track) there were public school kids, and “rich” kids. Kids who worked for their lessons, little kids, Big kids etc. We were like a family there at “the barn”

There were Christmas parties, Pool parties, birthday parties, camp outs, trail rides, picnics, horse shows, game days, work days, you name it. If you were part of  “the barn” you were part of a big family.

During this time, my parents were out of church. We had stopped going to the “Seeker Friendly” church. We were now in church limbo.

During this time, I had changed my mind about the Amish. I wanted to be Mennonite. I decided that the Mennonite’s were more “graceful” than the Amish. Their following of the Bible was more realistic to me than the Amish’s weird rules of barn roof pitches, phone booths outside,  straight pin’s to close blouses instead of buttons, etc. Besides, I couldn’t very well live like the Amish, when I lived in the city. We *had* to drive cars.  So my passion turned to the Mennonites.

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Are Amish People truly Happy?

Reading the last installment of my story, you will see that the Amish heavily influenced me to be “different” than the average main stream Christian. I studied their culture and philosophy of life. I thought the Amish believed in Salvation by faith through Grace. The only thing I thought at the time that we differed in, was concerning the keeping of Salvation. I never believed that one could lose their salvation.

It was implied in my study of the Amish that if they did anything against their tradition they would loose their salvation.

I later came to realize that the Amish did not even believe that they had salvation to begin with. That they were working towards it. And to go against their tradition, meant a sure death to hell.

I came across these videos today:

As I watched, I could so identify with the older Amish man’s quest to become good enough for God…and for feeling so defeated in the process. Always feeling like digging a hole and never getting anywhere.

I never did live the true Amish culture, i.e. horses and buggies, no electricity, etc. But I did embrace their philosophy with my mind. Which I will be getting into with more of my “story”.

What is interesting, that in my fundamental church circles, the “emerging church” and “entertainment in church” ,”phycology in church” and “market driven church” are touted as the main problems of “the church”.

I would beg to differ. While the above problems are indeed true of the church today, on the other side of the ditch is the extreme conservatism of man-made doctrines and traditions.

Colossians 2:8 Beware lest any man spoil you through philosophy and vain deceit, after the tradition of men, after the rudiments of the world, and not after Christ.

Matthew 15: 9 But in vain they do worship me, teaching for doctrines the commandments of men.

Both  sides are wrong. Both sides miss the mark of what is “wrong” with the church today. Like it or not…Both sides of the issue (post modern churches and “Biblical” Christianity) cater to the flesh.

Col 2: 20-23 Wherefore if ye be dead with Christ from the rudiments of the world, why, as though living in the world, are ye subject to ordinances,(Touch not; taste not; handle not;Which all are to perish with the using;) after the commandments and doctrines of men?Which things have indeed a shew of wisdom in will worship, and humility, and neglecting of the body: not in any honour to the satisfying of the flesh.

And BOTH diminish the finished work of the cross. One doesn’t even seem to talk about it, or water it down so much, that the only thing connected to the cross is that Jesus died on it. (Post Modern Churches) And the other side of the ditch, (Conservative “Bible Believing” Churches)  the work of the cross is mentioned a lot more, but it never seems to be enough for them. In fact, it isn’t enough for them, as is demonstrated by their manipulative, spiritual abuse of people’s souls and minds.

The Amish are a prime example of the fact that modernism isn’t the problem with the church. The Amish are the least modern people. They embrace biblical family values…they don’t believe in “entertainment” in churches. They don’t believe in phycology, and they for sure aren’t market driven when it comes to growing their church.

But they are still missing the Gospel, which is a gift of God by Grace through faith, and not of works.


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Still Here…

It’s been a crazy, busy two weeks around here. I have been battling some sort of infection that’s affecting many areas of my body. Ears, throat, head, nose, etc. It is making me extremely tired. Plus, we started homeschooling last week.

We are doing Classical Conversations with a new start up group in our area. So far this has been awesome for me and our kids. I plan on writing a bit more about it later on.

Hopefully, I will be regular in the blog world again, as this infection lifts. Just wanted you all to know that I am still alive, still wanting to write and trying to catch up with reading some of my favorite blogs. I am just lacking the mental energy right at the moment, with being sick and homeschooling and other life’s urgent duties. 😉

Please stick around ♥

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Movie Recomendation

I stumbled upon this movie on Netflix. It has the instant play feature, and if you are a member of Netflix I highly recommend you watch this movie. *Warning it does have triggers of physical abuse.*

Life in America for Betty and her Iranian husband, “Moody” is picturesque ideal.

Things change when her husband’s family pressure her husband to come back for a “visit” to Iran.

In the movie, Moody seemed to be a normal guy while living in America. Once back in his “home” country he is very pressured by his family to return to the old way of life, and overnight, Moody changed from loving, doting husband and father to a confused, angry abusive man.

When it came time to leave from their “vacation”, Moody tells Betty that they won’t be going home. Because of strict Iranian law, Betty can’t go home on her own free will.

I see so many parallels with this movie and other religious “patriarchal” religions.

1. The man starts off loving, kind and caring of women and children

2. When Moody is put into an environment that pressures him to question his own manhood and dedication to “god”, if he doesn’t conform to the “old ways” he begins to change into a tyrant.

3. Betty mutually consented to visiting the country but once she did, there was no turning back. She was stuck. Against her own will.

Here is the trailer from the movie:

I would like to add that there is controversy concerning this movie and the book that it was based upon. There is a series on youtube that is called “Without My Daughter” which is a documentary that gives the perspective of Moody.

But honestly, given the nature of the Islam religion, I have a hard time believing Moody’s story. I do feel bad for Moody, but Moody could have gone back to America and continued his productive life there with his wife and child, and in my estimation…he chose his religion over his wife and child.

Another thing I would like to note. What is portrayed in this movie is eerily the same as abusive “Christian” sects. From FLDS, to some more acceptable ones.

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