Finding One Trusted Friend

 

Refer to Step 8: I will share my experience and my own wrongdoing with a trusted friend, confessing the exact state of my heart.

 

Go often to the house of thy friend, for weeds choke the unused path.

—Recovery Slogan

 

When you read the steps for Alcoholics Anonymous or any other 12-step group, you’ll notice that they are plural and not singular. In step 1, it says, “We came to believe” and not “I came to believe.” In recovery from substance abuse, the shared experience of the group is often the most powerful component for achieving sobriety.

In recovery from religious abuse, however, it’s a little different. Although the wounding comes from a religious leader, God is nearly always blamed for the abuse as well. This means the person’s relationship with God becomes the primary problem and the relationship that needs to be mended first. Without getting straight with God, nothing else will work well—that’s for certain.

This is why the 11-step approach is singular and not plural—I and not we. There is no way for a group to heal your relationship with God. You have to do it that yourself, in the quietness of your own heart. Although each person’s experience may be different, the road back to God isn’t. It’s the same for everybody.

At the same time, you will need at least one trusted friend to act as your confidant along the way. Learning to trust God again is essential—so is learning to trust another human being. Both, working together synergistically, will make your journey much less burdensome—and with fewer detours.

Until you’ve accomplished both, nothing else will work very well. When you bring your situation before God, you can be assured He will always be available and accepting. Bringing it before another human is not as easy, but if the person is in tune with God’s will, the end result will definitely be empowering.

 

Therefore, strengthen the hands that are weak and the knees that are feeble, and make straight paths for your feet, so that the limb which is lame may not be put out of joint, but rather be healed. (Hebrews 12:12:13)

—Jack Watts   Recovery Resources

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Isolation: When Will It Be Enough?

Father,

As I thoughtfully look about,

Appraising my circumstances,

Which are not what I had desired—

Not at all what I had planned—

I don’t understand where You are leading,

Nor do I understand why I must travel

In isolation, as a solitary figure.

I wanted my life to be so different,

To be easier and more carefree,

But that was not the journey I’ve experienced.

As I see the smiling faces of others—

Those who talk about You as if they

Know You intimately, but do not,

I wonder why their lives appear to be

Free from disappointment and conflict,

While mine has been stressful and difficult.

I wonder if I will ever be filled with joy again?

Father, tell me when will Your pruning hand

Will finish its relentless alterations?

When will I awaken from darkness and despair,

To a bright, sunny day, filled with promise—

Free from sorrow—free from loss?

When will You move in a mighty

Redemptive way, to strengthen me?

When will You say to my enemies,

This is my child—my beloved child—

Whom I will establish him with power.

Let all who wonder know that it is I—

The great ‘I Am’ who has done this work.

Father, I know that You are in charge;

That You have numbered my days

And each of my years are in Your hands.

It is within Your power to change everything—

To allow my life to have far more meaning.

Finish Your transformation quickly,

So that I can withstand the swirling wind

And foreboding clouds that encompass me.

But now, O Lord, Thou art our Father, we are the clay, and Thou our potter; and all of us are the work of Thy hand. Do not be angry beyond measure, O Lord, neither remember iniquity forever; behold, look now, all of us are Thy people. (Isaiah 64:8-9)

To learn more about about the subject, go to: Recovering from Religious Abuse: 11 Steps to Spiritual Freedom.

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Stories of Religious Abuse: Part 3

Example Two

Atlanta: I was really wild in college. While at the University of Georgia in Athens, Georgia, I drank a lot, always had girls hanging around, and gambled routinely at my fraternity. For a while, it was fun, but it also made me feel like I was wasting my life. Because of this, I went to a Campus Crusade for Christ meeting, accepted Christ as my Savior, and began to change my life for the better. I abandoned my wild side, which made me feel much better about myself.

After moving to Atlanta, I spent a great deal of time at church—more than I had ever spent in my entire life. I went to a very conservative church where they made me a Sunday school teacher for ninth graders. The kids loved me. I was young, handsome, energetic, interesting, and fun—exactly what these kids wanted to be like when they went to college.

One day during class, a girl asked me, “Should I square dance as part of the school curriculum or make a stand for Christ because dancing is sinful?”

Totally surprised by the question, I replied, “Why would you want to look ridiculous in front of everybody in school over square dancing? If I were you, I would just go ahead and do it. If you’re going to make a stand, make it about something important—not something trivial.”

Satisfied with my answer, I went on with the lesson. That night, I received a call from the church pastor. He said, “I want to ask you some questions about your position on some critical issues for teens.” Sensing the underlying malice in his silky tone, I listened intently as he asked me my position on movies, dancing, cards, and numerous other things. Finally, he said, “What’s your position on mixed bathing?”

Without hesitation, I responded, “I’m against it. I think it’s OK for boys and girls to swim together, but I’m dead set against them taking a bath together!” Complete silence ensued. My attempt to interject a little humor into a tense situation actually made things worse.

“I think we need to have lunch tomorrow,” he said. “Can you meet me at 12:30?” It wasn’t a request.

At 12:30 p.m., I met the pastor, a man in his mid-thirties with jet-black hair, pale white skin, and penetrating black eyes. As we sat down, I was very nervous and started to light a Marlboro. In his most ingratiating voice, the pastor said, “It’s alright if you smoke. I’ll love you just as much if you light that cigarette as I will if you don’t.” When he finished saying this, he smiled in a genuine and disarming way.

“I know. Thanks,” I said and lit the cigarette. Enraged, he seethed with anger as I sat there speechless. He lit into me for smoking in the first place and went on with a tirade that would draw approbation from any prosecutor in the land. I sensed pure hate in this man toward me, as he verbally undressed me from head to toe. He said that no one who was genuinely a Christian smoked, which meant I wasn’t really a Christian in the first place. This really surprised me. Because he knew the Bible much better than me, I assumed he was correct. When he was finished, I was devastated. I held my ground outwardly, but inwardly I wanted to cow—liked a whipped dog.

Incredulously, I asked, “Then why did you say it was all right to smoke?”

His reply was a contemptuous smirk—nothing more.

In truth, he couldn’t answer. It would have been too revealing. At the end of the meal, he prayed and left with the self-satisfied confidence that he had set another sinner straight.

After he left, I was shaken to the core. I had been a born-again Christian for less than six months; but I knew I never wanted to be like this self-righteous, mean-spirited pastor. It bothered me so much that since then I have never been able to tolerate such misanthropy—especially by those who parade their Christianity as their prime asset. I went to that church less frequently and finally stopped going altogether. I became cautious and guarded around church people rather than open and transparent. I remember thinking that Christians shouldn’t talk about loving people if they don’t practice what they preach.

When I went to his church, I was young and impressionable. I eventually stopped smoking, but the effects of my confrontation have been far more detrimental than anything the cigarettes could have caused. As the pastor, he had every right to question what I taught the kids, but he had no right to crush my spirit. My enthusiasm for Christianity waned, and I have remained guarded and cautious ever since. Stung by his verbal abuse, I have never trusted a pastor again—not completely. I’m sure he intended to help, but he didn’t. Instead, he used his authority to assault my self-worth—a strategy that worked to my detriment for years.

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Stories of Religious Abuse: Part 2

Example One

Boston: I grew up in the suburbs of Boston, the second of four children in an Irish-Catholic family. Being a good Catholic, I went to Mass every Sunday and each Holy Day of Obligation, which meant I was in church at least sixty times a year. Some of my earliest memories were while I was at church. Part of my education was in a Catholic school, which was challenging academically and good for me. Dealing with the nuns and priests, who were positioned as intermediaries between God and me, however, was difficult and not at all beneficial.

How they dealt with me has had an impact upon how I perceive God, which has influenced my entire life. I’m not alone; there are millions of Catholic kids like me who have their own stories to tell—many of which are much worse than mine.

One incident in particular had a profound impact on me. It was the day of my First Holy Communion, when I was just seven years old. For months, all the girls and boys from my Communion class practiced going to the alter rail, kneeling down, holding our heads back, opening our mouths, and sticking out our tongues. When we did, the priest would put the Communion wafer on our tongues, say something—which I couldn’t understand, and move on to the next kid.

It sounds simple enough, but its execution on that fateful day was anything but simple. We were told—harshly, repeatedly and in no-uncertain terms—that we were to close our mouths immediately when the Host was placed on our tongues.

The priest said, “You don’t want to drop Jesus on the floor, do you?” He went on to tell us that this was a sacrilege—a mortal sin, and it would send us to hell. This, of course, terrified me as a seven-year-old. I can still feel the cold chill of fear from his words more than half a century later. His harsh admonition wasn’t accurate Catholic teaching, but I didn’t know it at the time.

Although I was little, I remember trying to look at the wafer as the priest held it up. I wanted to see Jesus’ face in it, but I never could. It didn’t look like Him, and it didn’t look like any part of a human being I had ever seen before either. Nevertheless, it was His body, and I was scared to death of dropping Jesus on the floor.

When the eventful day arrived, each girl was dressed in white, and all the boys, including me, wore white suits, white clip-on ties, and white gloves. Everything we wore that day was white, signifying purity—girls and boys. There were at least one hundreds kids taking their First Holy Communion that day, which seemed to excite the parents much more than any of us.

We sat up front away from our families—the boys on the right side of the aisle—the girls on the left. Sitting immediately to my right was Jerry Callahan, who was a little goofy on his best day and slightly retarded on his worst. Because he was on my right—sitting right next to me—he was in line to receive Communion immediately before me.

On schedule, we were ushered to the rail by a nun. Each of us knelt precisely as we were instructed. When the priest came to Jerry, he didn’t open his mouth as wide as he was supposed to. This irritated the priest, who spoke very sternly to him. Scared, Jerry started to whimper. Exasperated, the priest put the Host on Jerry’s partially protruding tongue, hoping that all would go well.

Then, the unthinkable happened; Jerry let the wafer drop from his mouth. Jesus landed on the floor right before my eyes. Aghast, the priest hurriedly grabbed the wafer, scraped up all the crumbs beside it, and put it in his own mouth, which really surprised me. After that, he rose quickly, gave Jerry a look of pure hate and slapped him right across the face. It was a hard slap, and Jerry screamed from shock and pain.

As this drama was unfolding, Jerry’s mother rushed forward to retrieve her child, who was now hysterical—screaming at the top of his lungs. As she arrived, she looked up at the priest, and said, “I’m so sorry, Father.” With that, she clutched her son, put a protective shoulder around him, and led him out of the church. I can still remember his receding sobs, as every adult looked at Jerry with contemptuous smirks.

The priest then turned his focus on me with defiant eyes, daring me to make a mistake. I was close to wetting my pants with fear, but I didn’t. I did exactly as I was supposed to do. Because I was so afraid, however, my mouth was bone dry, and Jesus stuck to the roof of my oral cavity and wouldn’t dissolve. It might as well have been peanut butter. Kids weren’t allowed to talk with Jesus in our mouth, and we couldn’t chew Him either. It was a sin. It took at least thirty minutes for Jesus to dissolve, and the Mass was long over before I could open my lips and say a word.

The next year, Jerry died of a brain aneurysm. Because he was so traumatized by the priest’s actions that day, he was never allowed to make his First Holy Communion. This meant he couldn’t go to Heaven, which saddened me. It’s also why I have such a vivid memory of the incident so long after it occurred.

This episode solidified my fear of God or, more accurately, my terror of Him. I saw God as cold, hateful, impersonal, petty, and mean-spirited. He was punitive—just like the priest who gave me communion that day. This twisted my perspective about God for years, but the abusive part was the corporal punishment inflicted on Jerry by the priest.

Everybody believed the priest had a right to do this, and nobody protested—not even Jerry’s mother. Catholics were terrified of their priests—men who wielded unquestioned authority over the people in their Parrish.

This was not an isolated instance. It was routine in Roman Catholicism before Vatican II. If you think I’m wrong, just ask any Catholic who was raised during this era. Nearly every one of us has a story to tell about an abusive priest or nun.

As I grew older and saw the world through adult eyes, I left the Church, and my memories of it are not pleasant. The mindset of the Catholic clergy—at least the one’s I knew—was that it was their right to slap kids around, and they did it routinely. Their power over the people was so strong and unassailable that moms and dads never protested how their children were being treated. This resulted in abuse that affected millions of kids like me—abuse that still impacts our lives. Just writing about it still angers me. I wonder if I’ll ever get over it.

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Stories of Religious Abuse: Part 1

Religious abuse occurs often and can happen to anyone, regardless of gender, religious affiliation, or time of life. Most abuse is inadvertent—not intended to inflict permanent damage to a person. This is not the type of religious abuse we’re dealing with in Pushing Jesus. Our focus is squarely upon those who use their positions of authority to abuse others, which makes it particularly devastating to the recipient. These leaders believe they have the authority and the right to do so. They believe that they are entitled to treat others the way they do.

The consequences of their abusiveness are frequently catastrophic; nearly as devastating as a parent telling a child he or she is unloved and unwanted. Sadly, even little children experience spiritual abuse at a time when they are the most vulnerable and impressionable—when they are the most susceptible. The negative imprint upon the child lasts a lifetime, diminishing the recipient’s self-worth. If unchecked, it can lessen a person’s life-long accomplishments.

Religious abuse is devastating because it nearly always brings the recipient’s relationship with God into question. Either directly or indirectly, the abuser states or implies that the person’s connection to God is flawed, making the abusee feel alienated—a person with diminished value, a person unworthy of God’s love and care. Being estranged from God is like being estranged from a parent—no good thing comes from it.

To give you a better understanding—a better “feel”—for what religious abuse really is, three examples will be given; one from a small boy, one from a young man just beginning to make his way in the world, and one from a man going through a proverbial “mid-life crisis.” Each is an example of a religious authority figure using his position of power to abuse someone in his charge.

The first example comes from a Roman Catholic priest in Boston, the second from a fundamentalist minister in Atlanta, the third from “The Elders” in a Southern California cult. The experiences were as diverse as the geographical locations, but each illustrates an excellent example of religious abuse—an instance of misused authority. After reading these personal accounts, perhaps you’ll have a clearer picture of what religious abuse really is. Each situation will be described by the person who experienced it—in the person’s own words.

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Have I Been Abused Spiritually?

What Is Spiritual Abuse?

Spiritual abuse is the mistreatment of a person by someone in a position of spiritual authority, resulting in diminishing that person’s sense of wellbeing and growth—both spiritually and emotionally.

Spiritual abuse is the use of spiritual authority, by words or acts, to manipulate someone for personal gain or to achieve a personal agenda, thereby harming that person’s walk with God.

Spiritual abuse can also be defined as any misuse of Scripture, which harms a person’s relationship with God—like the damage resulting from being a member of a cult.

“Have I Been Abused?”—A Self-Assessment Questionnaire

You can determine for yourself whether or not you’ve experienced religious abuse. Simply take a look at the questions below and check the appropriate place on the continuum. If you “strongly agree,” or if you “agree” to any of the questions, then you may have a problem. If you “strongly agree,” or if you “agree” to three or more question—or to any of questions seven through ten —then you definitely have experienced religious abuse, and 91 Days to Recovery from Religious Abuse can help you a great deal. Remember, this is a self-assessment; it’s for your eyes only.

1. I have stopped going to church because I have been offended by someone in the ministry. ________________________________________________
Strongly Agree Agree Neither Disagree Strongly Disagree

2. Although offended by someone in the ministry, I still go to church, but I simply go through the motions. ________________________________________________
Strongly Agree Agree Neither Disagree Strongly Disagree

3. I believe God is displeased with me for leaving my church. ________________________________________________
Strongly Agree Agree Neither Disagree Strongly Disagree

4. I believe most Christians are hypocrites. ________________________________________________
Strongly Agree Agree Neither Disagree Strongly Disagree

5. Yes, a church leader has offended me personally. ________________________________________________
Strongly Agree Agree Neither Disagree Strongly Disagree

6. I feel unworthy to pray. ________________________________________________
Strongly Agree Agree Neither Disagree Strongly Disagree

7. I have been verbally abused by someone in the ministry. ________________________________________________
Strongly Agree Agree Neither Disagree Strongly Disagree

8. I have been sexually abused by someone in the ministry. ________________________________________________
Strongly Agree Agree Neither Disagree Strongly Disagree

9. I have been financially abused by someone in the ministry. ________________________________________________
Strongly Agree Agree Neither Disagree Strongly Disagree

10. I have been emotionally abused by a religious experience. ________________________________________________
Strongly Agree Agree Neither Disagree Strongly Disagree

11. I feel a sense of shame being around religious people. ________________________________________________
Strongly Agree Agree Neither Disagree Strongly Disagree

12. I feel used by my religious experience. ________________________________________________
Strongly Agree Agree Neither Disagree Strongly Disagree

13. I believe religious people condemn me. ________________________________________________
Strongly Agree Agree Neither Disagree Strongly Disagree

14. I am angry with God. ________________________________________________
Strongly Agree Agree Neither Disagree Strongly Disagree

15. I feel unworthy to reach out to God. ________________________________________________
Strongly Agree Agree Neither Disagree Strongly Disagree

16. There is more to life than I’m experiencing. ________________________________________________
Strongly Agree Agree Neither Disagree Strongly Disagree

17. I would you like to feel closer to God, but I don’t believe it’s possible. ________________________________________________
Strongly Agree Agree Neither Disagree Strongly Disagree

18. Life has no meaning. ________________________________________________
Strongly Agree Agree Neither Disagree Strongly Disagree

19. Sometimes I wonder if I have a drinking problem. ________________________________________________
Strongly Agree Agree Neither Disagree Strongly Disagree

20. Sometimes I wonder if I abuse prescription drugs. ________________________________________________
Strongly Agree Agree Neither Disagree Strongly Disagree

21. Sometimes I wonder if I have a problem with pornography. ________________________________________________
Strongly Agree Agree Neither Disagree Strongly Disagree

22. Sometimes I don’t believe God loves me. ________________________________________________
Strongly Agree Agree Neither Disagree Strongly Disagree

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Misguided Evangelical Worldview: Part 2

There are some flaws in the Christian worldview that impact how a huge segment of “born again” Christians perceive reality. This adversely impacts their behavior and their sense of purpose.

For example, many invite Christ to come into their lives because they don’t want to think anymore. They want pat answers for everything and a life free from conflict—free from the negative consequences resulting from poor decisions. They want God to be a constant blessing machine. They want Him to indulge them with creature comforts as a sign that He loves them—as a sign that they are OK. Materialism and the acquisition of “things” becomes a sign they are living the life God meant them to live. Churches validate this mindset routinely by making successful businessmen elders and deacons to the exclusion of all others. After all, above all else, God wants His people to enjoy creature comforts—lots of them. Millions believe this nonsense and are offended when their assumptions are challenged.

Christians like these give lip service to loving and caring for others, when—in reality—their existence and purpose for life is all about themselves. In their superficiality, they believe they are profound, as they blissfully go about their lives doing what benefits them. Another alternative never crosses their mind or, if it does, it’s just a fleeting thought—like how you might feel after watching an uplifting movie. It touches you for a short while, but that’s it.

Christians, who embrace this worldview, eagerly wait to be “Raptured,” taking virtually no responsibility for the state of the world or for the depraved condition of mankind—spiritually or materially. They say they love others, but their actions rarely benefit anyone but themselves. This was not the way the Lord intended them to perceive reality, and it renders them useless for the work to which they have been called.

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PART 5: You’ll Know Them by Their Love for One Another–and Their Wisdom

Refer to STEP 11: I made a commitment to nurture my relationship with the Lord, asking Him to reveal His will to me and to provide me with the power to carry it out.

Wisdom—true wisdom, which comes from God, has a high price tag attached to it. If it didn’t, there would be more of it. The process for gaining this precious commodity is arduous and, for the most part, very time-consuming and difficult. Because we are a nation of people who demand instant gratification, there are fewer wise people in America than you would expect.

There’s no way for fruit to mature before its season. It’s the same with wisdom. It takes time, but not all older people possess it. You have to grow old but, in America, you don’t have to grow up. Multiplied millions never do. They’re just old.

It also takes difficult experiences, which force a person to trust the Lord, and God has no problem letting any of His children go through a world of pain, hardship, and despair to get to the other side. In fact, it’s standard operating procedure for Him. He does it all the time, and it can be difficult to endure. In the short run, He may seem cruel and unfeeling but, when seen from His perspective, which is eternal, it’s absolutely necessary. It builds character, or at least it can. If He required hardship from His only begotten Son, why would He require anything less of you and me?

The answer is: He wouldn’t. So when adversity comes, and it will, know that God is using every aspect of it for your benefit, for your refinement, and for your good. Without it, you’ll never become the valuable person the Father wants you to be—never.

If you’re in the midst of difficulty, stop whining about your plight and allow God to refine you all He wants. When it’s over, you’ll be a stronger man or woman than you ever dreamed possible—rich in Christ-like qualities like love, joy, and kindness. But above all, you will be wise.

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PART 10: The Great Commission: If I Am Lifted Up . . .

Refer to STEP 10: I believed that God still has a purpose for my life—a purpose for good and not evil.

How can you tell a Christian from a non-Christian? The Scriptures say you can tell them by their love for one another. If this is true of you, you’re witnessing no matter what you’re doing. If it isn’t, your witness is counterproductive. It’s why millions call Christians hypocrites, which quite often is an accurate assessment.

Let me be even more specific about witnessing. Anything you can do as a believer to lift up Christ is your responsibility. When you do, it’s His responsibility to draw men to Him—not yours. Lifting up Christ is not pushing Jesus. The former leads to salvation; the latter leads to alienation.

If you care for your fellow man; if you have compassion for those caught in addiction, despair, or any acting-out behavior; if you routinely display the fruits of the Spirit; you are a witness every day of your life—whether you say anything or not. You just don’t realize it most of the time.

If your walk with the Lord is shallow, if your beliefs are simplistic, and if you are unwilling to have your faith challenged or questioned, your witness is weak as will be the fruit you produce. Instead of proclaiming that which is not strong in your life with bumper stickers, tee shirts, and canned three-minute testimonies, wouldn’t it be better to strengthen your faith and knowledge before looking foolish to a seeker? It would take time but, when you are better prepared, your fruit would be rich, positive, and lasting.

Intellectually and philosophically, Christianity is time-weathered, profound, and enduring. At the same time, most Christians in America are unable to emotionally handle legitimate questions. They want pat answers to everything and, anything that questions their faith, angers them. That’s not the way Christ handled things and, if we are to be like Him, we can’t be that way either.

Most of Christ’s Disciples were ignorant men, but they changed the world. So can you but, before this can happen, you must strengthen the inner man by spending quality time with the Lord. Without it, you’re destined to have thoughts no deeper than bumper sticker slogans or tee shirt platitudes.

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PART 9: The Great Commission: If I Am Lifted Up . . .

Refer to STEP 10: I believed that God still has a purpose for my life—a purpose for good and not evil.

Salvation is easy—it doesn’t require anything from you or me. That’s God’s part. He did it all; that’s what grace is all about. The only thing either you or can do is make it more or less desirable to a sinner—the people Jesus liked the most.

If a Christian is smug and self-righteous, legalistic and condemning, haughty and judgmental; not many sinners will be attracted, will they? You know the people I’m describing: the ones Christ displayed anger toward—the heartlessly religious.

Sadly, evangelical Christianity has far too many people like this. They are the ones who condemn homosexuals, telling them they deserve AIDS. They call women who have aborted their babies murderers, forgetting that they, too, were no better. The self-righteous lift up a version of Christ that is not the New Testament version—not even close, and yet these are the people most feared in our churches. Their bitter sting keeps many from embracing God’s love, acceptance, and mercy. The only legitimate fruit they display is self-control, except for their biting, acerbic tongue.

If you display love, joy, long suffering, and a genuine concern for those in need; then you are lifting up Christ the way you’re meant to, and that’s very attractive to sinful, fallen people, desperate for answers.

The choice is yours. If you’re smug and self-righteous, you will have a great impact for the Kingdom—a negative impact. If you display love and graciousness, you’ll also have a great impact on the Kingdom—all positive.

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PART 6: The Great Commission—What Is It, Really?

Refer to STEP 11: I made a commitment to nurture my relationship with the Lord, asking Him to reveal His will to me and to provide me with the power to carry it out

It’s time that we, as believers, step out of the gray drab existence of multi-culturalism and political correctness—for fear of offending anyone, or for our own desire to be liked. We must stand for the One who declares Himself to be the Way, the Truth, and the Life. We must never forget where we’ve come from—out of the darkness into His marvelous light—E. P.

Witnessing to millions, or even billions, of people with a watered-down version of who Christ is will not fulfill the Great Commission. Neither will filling churches with members who have marginal beliefs other than their desire to instill “good values” into their children or leverage their business networking efforts. It won’t work—never has and never will.

The fire is nearly out in America—the fire for Christ and His righteousness. It’s been replaced by fire in the loins—from pastors addicted to pornography to adulterous church members by the millions. We act like the world and expect God to bless us because we’re His Bride—without spot or wrinkle.

God has become a blessing machine—a higher power who dispenses materialism as a reward for marginal behavior just because He’s a nice guy. We’re lukewarm at best and expect God to reward mediocrity with prosperity. We pursue the lust of the eye, the lust of the flesh, and the boastful pride of life and expect God to be OK with it. We’ve lost the fear of God—all of us, especially our leaders who are more interested in material success than service.

The worst part is this: We, as Christians, believe we’re OK the way we are. We’re unwilling to stand firmly in the face of a culture that has grown increasingly hostile toward Christianity, choosing instead to wring our hands in despair. As men, we’ve lost our rocks and, as women, we’ve lost our focus.

We blame the liberals and non-believers and never take a good look at ourselves. We pass emails by the thousands that reminisce about the “good old days” when the Founding Fathers pointed to churches as the strength of America.

At the same time, I’ve never received an email with the rest of the story. Routinely, during the Colonial and Revolutionary era, there were days of fasting and prayer. There were also days of repentance back then, which would never be acceptable with the lukewarm crowd in churches these days. Repentance might offend someone, but it wouldn’t offend the Lord.

If you’re interested in my perspective about why we’ve deteriorated to this sad state, read tomorrow’s entry.

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PART 5: The Great Commission—What Is It, Really?

Refer to STEP 11: I made a commitment to nurture my relationship with the Lord, asking Him to reveal His will to me and to provide me with the power to carry it out.

All authority has been given to Me in heaven and in earth. Go therefore and make disciples of all the nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I commanded you; and lo, I am with you always, even to the end if the age (Matthew 28:18b-20).

In Cheshire England, a couple of twelve-year-old schoolboys were disciplined for “refusing to pray to Allah” as part of their school’s religious education program. A spokesman for the Cheshire County Council said, “Educating children in the beliefs of different faiths is part of Cheshire’s diversity curriculum.”

Good for these two young boys. Because of separation of church and state, this scenario couldn’t be replicated in the America—not exactly. But the mindset of acceptance of any belief as equal to Christianity flourishes in our nation, even in our churches.

In an attempt to be palatable to everyone—to get them “saved,” Christians have watered-down Christ’s teachings to be the best way among equals—not the only way. In America, God’s blessings are equated to materialism and not the rich character qualities of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, and all the rest. In order to be acceptable to the unsaved, Christ’s words have been watered down by marginal leaders in our churches—those more intent on creating large churches than strong churches.

If you think I’m exaggerating, just ask any young Christian under twenty-five, if Christ is the only way to God. Three-out-of-four will either hedge or deny it outright. Christianity isn’t loosing the cultural war; we’ve lost it. Our churches are filled with weak, materialistic, sappy people—not robust men and women, who will not bend their knees for anyone other than the Lord.

Good for these two young boys who had the rocks to stand for what they believed. Their defiance made news worldwide. When it happened, I’m sure they were unpopular with their classmates. Remember, fidelity may cost you everything but, without it, you don’t really have anything anyway.

After reflecting for a minute, will you answer this question: Who will I be?

Will I be someone who accommodates and doesn’t make waves, or will I have the rocks to stand steadfast in the face of false gods and false beliefs like Islam? What’s more important to me—popularity and affluence, or faithfulness to Christ?

If you want to change the world, and restore America to her greatness, you know which answer you must choose. It has to start on the inside, and it has to start with you.

More tomorrow.

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Obama on Marriage

Last week Michelle Obama appeared before the Democratic national Committee’s Gay and Lesbian Leadership Council Dinner and announced that Barack Obama favored the repeal of the Defense of Marriage Act and the defeat of the California constitutional Amendment aimed at restoring the definition of marriage in California as between one woman and one man–Townhall.com

In recovery, by necessity we must look at many things–some very difficult. At the same time, it’s always unwise to “throw out the baby with the bath.” The church, for instance, may be a place where we have suffered abuse, but it’s also an institution ordained by God. To discard or diminish its importance is something we can never do.

It’s the same with marriage. As many Christians divorce as non-Christians but, even in failure, it’s an institution created and blessed by God. To discard or circumvent marriage as a nation will take us out of the flow of God’s blessing, and it’s something Christians must never support.

That Barack Obama does reveals the unique twist of his worldview, which comes from Jeremiah Wright’s Black Liberation Theology. It’s not mainstream; that’s for sure.

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Obama and the Scarf Ladies

Yesterday, at a rally, two Muslim women, who were sitting behind Barack Obama, were asked to move because they would be in plain view of the cameras that provide shots for the evening news. Hurt and offended, the woman complied and moved.

This, of course, made more news than if they had been allowed to stay. As I watched the morning news, each news person said that Obama was not a closet Muslim but a Christian, which his twenty-year membership at Trinity Church proved.

By saying this, the media, who knows no better, has imparted legitimacy upon Trinity, Jeremiah Wright, and Black Liberation Theology. Obama’s religious experience has become mainstream, or we’re supposed to accept that it’s mainstream.

Well, it isn’t–not even close. It’s more Marxist than Christian, and Obama has been infected with its poisonous worldview. He is not a Muslim, but his Christianity is skewed by twenty years of Jeremiah Wright’s twisted theology, which is an angry, racist distortion of the Truth.

To assume Obama can “bring us all together” is naive. It simply can’t happen–not based on his belief system. His supporters want it to happen, but it won’t because it’s not in him. His Christianity is not mainstream; it’s that simple.

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Renewing Your Mind: Part 10

Refer to STEP 9: I humbly asked God to change anything He wished.

In the aftermath of abuse, despair is always present as well as anger and bitterness. Each has its season in the heart of the abusee. For most, these debilitating emotions remain as part of the landscape for most victims. The desire for self-vindication is also there, and it acts as a motivator for all kinds of activity, most of which is self-defeating behavior.

It’s at this point—the desire to set the record straight, to let everybody know the truth—which most fail to learn the lesson the Lord has for them. When the Lord arrived in Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, He arrived as King. Less than a week later, He was murdered. He could have set the record straight on His own terms, but He chose to be obedient to the Father instead—a decision that changed the course of history. At the time, however, it seemed like a mistake, especially to His followers.

The same is true for each of us—those abused by toxic religious leaders. Although our desire for self-vindication may be the most predominant one in our lives, we must realize this: If we are to be raised up, it will be by the Lord’s hand and not our own.

It doesn’t get any harder than this, but it’s true. If you understand this and can renew your mind to accept it, you’ll be on the right road and recovery can happen. If not, you’ll chafe at the bit for years—unfulfilled, bitter, and defeated.

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