No More Charlatans!

Slimy TV preachers (both men and women) who beg for money and then buy jets and gold toilets and subsidize their large families with six-figure incomes and estates … there’s no one to blame but their followers. Are folks really not aware of the oppulent lifestyles of the rich and religious? It boggles my mind when I see them on TV in huge arenas filled to capacity.

Charlatans! And it's not just southern preachers. These megachurches exist in every state!

Are you giving these people your hard-earned money?

Stop and think before you send in that tithe and love offering. Does God really need my money? Or does He really intend to test my faith on a regular basis by whether or not I give my last dime?

I swallowed that dogma for years and chased the feelings of eternal security until my feet were worn to bloody stubs.

Am I now an apostate? Have I forsaken the cross?

No.

I learned that we cannot control God by "giving until it hurts." I've had it with folks praising God on camera and living like the devil when the house lights are turned off.

I've heard a TV preacher even go so far as to say … “Nobody living high on the hog around here!” Oh yeah? Hmmm. If a member of the congregation asked to review their books, would they open them freely? What about the jet parked at the airport? What about the millions spent on “mission” trips? Who benefits, really? Any idea how much that costs? Does a church really need millions every year to keep the electric on? The questions here are endless …

I guess another question is, who wins more souls? The little church with the white steeple down the street, or the gigantic church that covers several city blocks? The big, blustery televangelist or the quiet country preacher? Is one better than the other?

 

 

Seems to me we need to take a lesson from the new pope. Jorge Mario Bergoglio became Pope Francis this year. Humble, the man cooks for himself, lives in a small apartment, and rides the city bus. It is said he has reigned-in the spending at the Vatican.

The following statement has explained away the sickening excess of some Pentecostal/charismatic ministries. I’ve heard it said numerous times. “God wants His people to have the best.” Um, no. Not at the expense of those who struggle to put food on the table. This could also be said another way. “God wants His Pastors to have the best.” That’s the way many evangelical churches have been run for the past few decades, and it’s time we said… ENOUGH.

Pastors have hopped on the Prosperity Message bandwagon over the years when they saw how much it added to their competitor’s bottom lines. But it’s way out of control. The guilt and shame they hold over your head, as if they're God with a big stick, it has to stop.

 

J. Lee Grady, who wrote Fire in My Bones in the May 2013 Charisma magazine said, “God opposes pride. Pompous religious display, ego-driven greed and Pentecostal popemobiles have no place in a Spirit-filled movement …”

 

He's right.

I think that’s the majority of televangelists these days.

No more bodyguards!

No more $10,000-per-night hotel rooms!
No more private jets!

No more Charlatans!

What do Scientologists and Evangelicals have in Common?

 

A few weeks ago, Rock Center, a news show with Brian Williams and Harry Smith, reported on Scientology. Their show, The Defectors, aired the same day Lawrence Wright (a Pulitzer Prize winner) launched his new book, Going Clear, Scientology, Hollywood, and the Prison of Belief.

This book, based on Wright’s investigation of Scientology, included his interviews of more than 200 people, mostly former church members. Wright called them bright and interesting people, not freakish crackpots, but that while the religion has been a positive experience for some; it has long been shadowed by allegations that many have been emotionally and physically abused.

The shock of the interview was not as great as the shock of similarity between the Church of Scientology and the megachurch, the evangelical church from which I defected.

Harry Smith interviewed Paul Haggis, Oscar-winning writer and director of the film, Crash. Haggis is said to be the highest-ranking Scientologist to ever leave the church and speak out publicly.

The alleged horrors described in Smith’s interview may not be to the degree I experienced in the evangelical church, but certainly the resemblance is a strong one.

Haggis mentioned that allowing himself to be interviewed was insanity. Speaking freely, he also said it was incredibly stupid to speak out against Scientology, but that he has been ashamed of his stupidity and had been purposely blind for years. According to Haggis, everyone who has left Scientology has left quietly. But not Haggis. He decided to leave loudly.

For me, writing a novel about the dark side of televangelism may also be considered as a mark of insanity. Although fiction, Televenge was definitely inspired by my own experiences. The fact that my family was torn apart by the edicts of a pastor cannot go away, no matter the passing of time.

Now shunned by the church, Haggis says Scientology is a therapy session, with lots of one-on-one counseling. That it’s a long, slow walk toward believing.

Shunning is something you live with when leaving these congregations, evangelical or otherwise. For many evangelicals, the long, slow walk toward salvation starts the moment we enter our first Sunday school class.

Says Haggis, “If it (Scientology) hadn’t helped me, then it never would have got a hold of me.”

Many in evangelical churches claim to have experienced the miracle power of God. I believe God honors faith wherever he finds it. Our megachurhes are filled with good, hard-working, honest folk. The church was once the lifeblood of my existence for over twenty years. Leaving is not an easy decision but it becomes the only one you can make when you no longer wish to be controlled by the man in the pulpit.

“The idea of being part of a group that’s ostracized and hated, bands you together against the outside world,” Haggis said. Later, he says he learned of abuse at the highest levels of the church.

 Of course, the Church of Scientology denies it all.

 

In large evangelical churches, the outer circle consists of honest folk unaware of the goings-on within the ministry. The inner circle (ministry team, choir, musicians, ushers, office and technical staff) knows the ministry’s secret sins. Even the indiscretions of pastors who preach against the homosexual lifestyle they practice. Of course, not all evangelical churches fit this mold. But it is this writer’s experience the corruption inside many televised megachurches may rival that of the Church of Scientology.

Because many call themselves Christians – members of a religion with a respectable position in society, they do not hesitate to condemn Scientology or Mormonism. The truth is, we’re so busy looking for the splinter in the eyes of others we can’t see the log in our own. Confusing the fiercness to protect God’s word with arrogance and pride, Christians often become worse than those they condemn.

According to Haggis and Wright, Scientologists were vindictive and litigious, spying on people and creating an atmosphere of fear. “They’re not people you want to mess with,” Haggis said.

As evangelicals, we had first class tickets to heaven. Our membership existed in fear. Fear of Hell, fear of the devil, fear of missing the rapture, constant fear of God’s everlasting wrath, and of disappointing our pastor. It was an unwritten sin to miss church, to question the pastor’s authority, or even walk out during a service.

Haggis indicated Scientologists believe the body is host to space aliens invading and infesting us by the hundreds, causing all kinds of physical and mental problems.

We evangelicals believe the same thing, only we call those space aliens—demons.

Finally, Harry Smith asked, “Why did you stay?”

To which Haggis answered, “It’s part of your life at that point. Your kids, friends, wife, they’re all there. It’s what you know.”

It’s the same for evangelicals. We also stayed because it was branded into us that leaving our church meant never amounting to anything for God; that we would die and lift up our eyes in Hell. Those were his exact words, over and over, burned into my memory.

 

Harry Smith then asked, “Is it a cult?”

“Of course it is,” said Haggis. “It’s your system of belief. You’ve got these folks inside this fortress who won’t look out. Won’t look at any criticism and can’t bear any investigation and think the outside world is against them. Yes, it’s a cult.”

Many evangelicals don’t dance or listen to music other than what is produced in their church. We didn’t smoke or drink; we were sheltered from the world and its sins. Our children were discouraged from participating in high school sports as it interfered with church attendance. Our lives existed from one four-hour service to the next. Hanging on every word, movement, and gesture of a man who claimed that since his salvation he lived without sin, we believed in his confession of perfection. We had no deacons or board of elders, and belonged to no denomination. He answered to no one, and didn’t tolerate those who questioned him. But when we pulled away, the losses we suffered were no less than unbearable.

Haggis said leaving the Church of Scientology was an act of treason.

In my former church, to associate with anyone who defected is also treason. Those of us who left have been shunned for years. People we knew and grew up with ignore us in public. We’ve been stopped at the door of funerals and not permitted to enter. Even funerals of family members.

Wright says because the Church of Scientology is protected under the first amendment, it allows the church to build capital and power. Power the church has exploited. He says the church abuses its members by shaking them down for money, heaping vengeance on those who disagree, punishing critics, and holding people against their will inside the highest levels of the church.

Televangelism is a billion-dollar business. Scared religion and the prosperity doctrine keep us giving endless love offerings we can’t afford and paying tithes instead of bills. Some evangelical pastors have an amazing ability to make sure we give our last dime. Declaring us demon-possessed should we speak out against them, they build invisible walls, and hold us captive by convincing our family or our spouses that Hell awaits them should they defect with us.

The Church of Scientology says there is no credibility to Wright’s statements and that all complaints come from malcontentment. But Wright says there are too many collaborated stories from people who got out. Stories, it seems to me, he could not ignore.

And then, when you think it can’t get any worse, Harry Smith introduced Hayden and Lucy James, former Scientologists who got out with their immediate family in tact. But the James family worked for Sea Org, part of the church. They had signed a contract to work a billion years for Scientology. The problems came when they wanted to have a baby. Lucy became pregnant and was pressured to have an abortion. But they resisted and their daughter, Katrina, was born.

As part of the inner circle of our evangelical megachurch, we were highly discouraged from having children. Children meant less time and money you could give to the church, besides, Jesus was coming back soon; it was not the time to bring children into the world. Many young men were counseled to have vasectomies, and some women were strongly encouraged to have an abortion.

But before the James family could break out of Scientology, they were held in a windowless basement and prohibited from seeing their own daughter. Separated, interrogated for weeks, and placed under guard, the James family said this happens to many families who want out.

Harry Smith could hardly believe it and asked, “Why couldn’t you all just walk out?”

Walking out of a cult is not as easy as it looks. But the James family answered the same way I do. You don’t walk out because the consequences of your actions will result in having your family torn apart. The fear of what they could do to you, the intimidation, it’s overwhelming. It took years for me to finally walk out, holding tight to my children, and never looking back.

Hayden and Lucy James had to pay a huge bill for breaking their contract. They were made to feel guilty for breaking that billion-year contract and for back tithes owed.

Our extremely low wages did not cover the untold years of volunteer time my ex-husband gave to the church. There were no contracts to sign. They hold Hell over your head instead. I had sacrificed my husband and the better part of my youth to a pastor and his mega ministry. I had nothing left to give.

The James family remains disconnected from family members inside the church. They can’t speak to them or call them, and indicate those within Scientologist circles are aware this is what happens when you defect, which keeps everyone quiet.

I’ve met and interviewed over a hundred people who defected from all types of controlling ministries across the country. The common thread of suffering great losses weaves itself through all of our experiences. In some instances, the church was nothing less than a Mafia of holy men, with unexplained deaths, the horrors of shunning and manipulation, and the opulence of televangelism.

The Church of Scientology denies allegations by those like Paul Haggis and Lawrence Wright, and it seems some folks can list a number of good things Scientologists do and have done in today’s society. But the fact remains that the Haggis family and the James family, as well as many others have been victimized.

I contend that acceptance, tolerance, and forgiveness preached by many of the dogmatic evangelical churches are non-evident due to the hundreds of families it has destroyed.

 

An article, dated February 7, 2013 by Kyle Buchanan entitled, What You Need to Know About The New Yorker’s Paul Haggis—Scientology Article, quotes Haggis as saying, “These people have long memories. My bet is that, within two years, you’re going to read something about me in a scandal that looks like it has nothing to do with the church.”

I hope you’re wrong this time, Paul. I hope you’re wrong.

What Does It Take To Write A Thriller?

An excerpt from TELEVENGE ...

The rain fell in torrents the last time I saw them. I was a grown man. A beautiful man, made in God’s perfect image. It was a hot July day. I remember because it was my birthday. Approaching their peeling porch steps, I flung my suit jacket over my shoulder, undid my tie, and rolled up my sleeves. While one aunt shook with a palsy and the other chewed a cud of something between her gums, I sat on a step and read from the book of Leviticus. “A woman that hath a familiar spirit, a wizard, shall surely be put to death, they shall stone her with stones; her blood shall be upon her. I’m going to preach,” I said.

They stared through me, like a couple of deaf mutes.

I’d come to pick a bone with two old women; to rid myself of an infected snakebite, a poison that had infiltrated even the most anointed parts of my life.

“Can you understand? I’m an overcomer! Quench not the Spirit, saith the Lord! Don’t you see? The audible voice of God speaks to me and through me daily. I once was lost, but now I’m found. You chastised me, but He chose me. I crossed over into the Land of Milk and Honey and I found it. I found the sweet honey in the rock. Sucked out the sweetness and emptied the cone, tasted and seen that the Lord is good. He found no guile in my mouth, no He did not. I spend my days speaking in tongues, yes, true, the tongues of angels, and fall asleep easily every night with God’s words inside me, His anointing upon me.”

A violent storm erupted. Lightning cracked amid a fast and furious rain. I grabbed them up, two rail-thin old women, dragged them inside and kicked the door closed with my heel.

 

 

 ... a novel not for the faint of heart ...

I'm Booked for Fox News Radio!

I’m most fortunate and thrilled to have been booked for an important interview with Fox News Radio, New York City. Mr. Vipp Jaswall will be interviewing me next week about the business of televangelism, my life, my beliefs, and my book.

Vipp will focus on specific points of interest including …

• If you had only one choice whom would you choose? God or family?
• Should your pastor dictate your belief for a guaranteed one-way ticket to Heaven?
• If you believe in separation of church and state, do you also believe in separation of church and culture?

As soon as I am made aware of the date of this pod cast I’ll let you know, as well as give you a specific link to click that will take you right to the interview, so stay tuned!

In the meantime, please enjoy the pod casts on Vipp Jaswall’s page. You’ll hear conversations that will provoke questions only you have the answers to. He really makes people think. I love his peanut-butter fudge voice. Smooth and rich with a touch of salt! It’s like getting interviewed by James Bond!

 Here is the link: http://radio.foxnews.com/category/podcasts/the-vipp-jaswal-report

 

 

Why Should A Writer Bleed On The Page? Isn’t It Time To Open A Vein?

 

… continuing part III of What Do You As A Writer Bring To The Page?

Picture of my parents above ... winter of 1954, my father was leaving that day. He's a Korean War veteran. My mother was not happy. You can see it in her face here.

Until I met my husband, pursuing the passion and dream of writing was something I did alone. He afforded me the time to devote to my craft, which I soon realized was not enough.

As storytellers, surviving life’s heartaches and hardships leave the residue of so much conflict to write about. Without the struggle, we do not possess the understanding and compassion, the inward fortitude to pursue our dreams that often seem so out of reach.

And for all of this, you need to put a smile on your face today. My purpose for this post is to offer encouragement. To help you separate the sheep from the goats. The wheat from the tares. The bland, “so-what” writing of telling and not showing. It’s time to pull emotional appeal out of your gut, from your heart, and raise the stakes. Time to create an original and unique voice that will live long after you are gone. Time to bleed on the page.

“The question isn’t  who is going to let me; it’s who is going to stop me.” – Ayn Rand

Be a fearless writer. Make the decision you’re going to do whatever it takes. Sometimes ... you just got to open that vein.

What are the events in your life, or in others lives with which you are intimate, that possess powerful magic to influence the stories you create?

I wrote Southern Fried Women during different eras of my life. Growing up in a Pentecostal fundamental congregation, I experienced a world reaching from the backwoods and hollers of West Virginia into the great and grand cathedrals of several high-tech megachurches. Living through my own dark days in televangelism, it inspired me to weave religion, spirituality, and the unexplained into my stories … stories that hint to an ancient bridge where the real and the supernatural meet. The biblical kind of supernatural that exists in all deep-rooted religious families.

In the beginning, I wanted to inform and enlighten the minds of my readers, but I learned something about myself in the process of writing my stories. I learned that what I wanted even more was to kick-start their hearts. For me, faith and spirituality have a way of doing that like nothing else.

My point is that as I look back, the horrific darkness I went through gave me a keen insight into the mind and life of struggling and desperate women. Women that I began to write about. The sparks of passion to develop my stories became a burning and all-consuming flame. As I wrote, the blinders lifted off my eyes and my ears became unplugged. I heard myself laughing, crying out, screaming and whispering secrets through the characters I created.

It seems no matter what I write, I draw from those times of tragedy and of triumph. Of horrific and hilariously funny times when all I could do was cry or laugh.

I strongly suggest you draw from your past, from the dark places you don’t want to think about anymore, of love lost and of love sought and found. From those desperate times you will find the words needed to fully develop the characters you were meant to create.

Nobody’s life has been a bowl of soft rose petals spread upon a fine, feather mattress. Somewhere you have experienced pain. The rain falls on the just and the unjust. It comes to us all. So use it. Draw from your own well. Your stories will deepen, strengthen, and yes—matter! At the lowest point in my life, my faith and the ability to write it down became my life preserver. It changed me, as woman, and as a writer.

Draw from your darkest hours and your fondest memories. Life is too short for too many regrets. If you want to be a successful writer, grab it with both hands. If it changes your life, let it.  I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but I can promise it’ll be worth it.

Blessings to you and yours.

What Is Raw, Honest Writing?

… continuing part II of What Do You As A Writer Bring To The Page?

Are you able to bring your heartbreak to the page? The pain of loss, rejection, abandonment, can you write about it? Can you pull from your most horrific memories, as well as your most joyous? What I’m talking about has nothing to do with your writing degree or your awards. Although commendable, and certainly admirable, that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m asking, what do you--as a living, breathing, human being--bring to the page?

Dorothy Allison’s words at the Maui Writer’s Conference year ago were piercing. Delivered with pastoral fire and an urgency she said, “I’m here to deliver black coffee, I’m here to leaven your experience. I’m here to tell you part of why I’m a writer is that it’s one of the professions where you can be a fat girl and make it! Writers come to the page for many, many reasons. In fact, many of us DO come in the hope of justice, we DO come in the hope of balance, we DO come with an agenda of love, but I’m TELLING YOU NOW, lots of us start with a desire for genuine REVENGE.”

Do you bring revenge to your written pages? Anger? Truth?

“Lighten up,” you say? Okay. Sure.

You don’t need some deep, dark reason to write. You can definitely write for fun. Many do. Except that in my honest and humble opinion, the writing that lasts for generations is gathered from the cobwebbed corners of a writer’s mind. Those basements and attics where most writers fear to tread, but some go anyway.

“But,” you say, “I write humor.”

Ah, yes.  Well, dissect that funny stuff. Where does it come from? Most of it comes from pain. You know that old cliché, usually spoken in the midst of fear or anger. “We’re going to laugh about this later.” Laughter through tears ... is it not a powerful emotion? Many believe the angrier you are, the funnier you need to be. Take that to the page.

So don’t just write what you know. Write what you care about, what you feel deep in your gut. What you’ve seen. The heart-wrenching moments that cut deep into your mind and heart. Write about that. Write about the scars. Who gave them to you, and how you healed, or how you still suffer from those scars. Those hurts that won't heal. Give your character a piece of your life story you want to share with the world. Dig out the best and worst of your memories, and include them in your stories. It’s called raw, honest writing.

Write not just what you know, but what matters most to you. What has brought you out of a deep, dark spot? What makes you uncomfortable? Write your passions, your desires, what moves you. Write that.

Those are the guts of a good story. Bring that to the page.

In the late ‘nineties, I clawed my way out of a long, bleak period in my life. It not only developed an edge in my writing, but throughout those years, what kept me sane was journaling and reading every piece of fiction I could get my hands on.

I had secretly studied the craft of writing. When my friends and family found out about it, they adamantly let me know that writing was a big waste of my time. That because of my circumstances I needed to put my nose to the grindstone, and continue to collect that paycheck. “Don’t be a fool, Pam … few make it as writers … you’ll never write a book … are you crazy?”

I’m here to tell you, if it hasn’t happened already, someone along the way will question your commitment. Your work will continue to be rejected by not only those you know, but the publishing community. On your way to publishing, you will question your ability, your purpose, and your sanity. Even after you're published, you're still bombarded with the same mental anguish. I’m telling you so when it hits, you’ll recognize it for what it is. It’s part of the job. 

Writing is a profession where you pour your guts out on the page, bleed over every chapter, spend years writing the best story your mind, heart, and fingers can produce, labor days and nights on perfecting work that may or may never be seen ... and somebody is always waiting in the wings to tell you how bad you suck.

Sometimes, after reading over your work for the millionth time, you will still find mistakes. You cry, pound your fist on the keyboard, run your hand through your hair and think -- they’re right. I suck. Which is how I felt when the above picture was taken. I was at that Southern restaurant, Sticky Fingers, talking about how bad I sucked as a writer and had one too many cold ones.

 

Anway, you get my point. You begin to understand that perfection can only be born out of rejection and mentors pointing out the obvious. Obvious to everyone but you. And yet, even then, the perfect manuscript does not exist.

Rejection is not only part of becoming a bonifide writer, it’s crucial that it happens. And often. Each “Thanks but no thanks” – each “NO” is a brick upon which we build our tower to Publishing Glory. A writer who has not experienced the critical reviews of their peers, the public, and those within the industry is missing something special. They’re missing the chance to experience the rush of adrenaline that fuels the fire inside to never give up. It’s a writer’s high. A necessary surge of energy to survive in this business.

Come back again soon … there’s more to come in this series … What Do You Bring To The Page?

Blessings to you and yours.

What's Next On The Book Promotion Horizon?

The story has captivated its first round of readers in the past few days. The emails, tweets, and facebook posts are coming in faster than I can keep up with them. The blog tour started today with WOW, Women on writing. http://muffin.wow-womenonwriting.com/ Here you can join post comments and win a free copy of the novel.

For the past few days, I've been thinking about social media and the overwhelming work it takes to get your book noticed by potential readers. I think one of the best ways is with a quality book trailer. Book trailers appeal to the masses because of the visual aspect. My first trailer was with Misty Taggart and Trailer to the Stars. She's fantastic and great to work with, and did a super job. I highly recommend Misty and her company. http://www.trailertothestars.com/

My niece, Lindy Bonin, a graduate of Lee University, worked with me on creating a new video for Televenge. Televenge, The Story. This video is a synopsis of the novel, set to music and pictures. It's a little longer than most book trailers, 7 minutes, but it's really good. I believe the music along with the story holds you until the end.

I wrote the script and recorded it into an Audacity file, then uploaded it to Lindy. Both of us worked on gathering just the right pictures for the script. The pictures were purchased from an Internet site specializing in stock photos. Lindy used music from her own collection. Lindy, like myself, is from a church background. She and her two sisters, Ashlie and Melissa, all graduated from Lee University and have become pastors or are in pastoral service.

The voice of my protagonist, Andie Oliver at the beginning, middle, and end of the video is Lindy's voice. Although a native of Ohio, she spent a great deal of time in Tennessee at Lee and then worked for her church organization in the Cleveland, TN area. I was quite surprised when I first heard it. I had no idea who it was. She does a great job as a steel magnolia, don't you think?

It took a few drafts and a little time, but in the end I think we've created something very special. I'm proud of Lindy and of the video. If you've got some time, take a look. And then hop on over to Amazon or Barnes & Noble ... where you can purchase the entire novel!

When it comes to writers promoting their work, I think we're going to find more book trailers in the future. It's the cherry on top of the sundae.

http://tinyurl.com/Televenge-TheStory

The video can be found on You Tube and across all social media sites. Enjoy!

Blessings to you and yours.

When Do You Leave Your Church?

 



My daughter, Jillian, and me. I love her hands. They look like mine. A mother never lets go of her children's hands.

My parents took me to Sunday school, revivals, and holy-rolling church services from the time I was in diapers. I don't remember my first church experience. But I do recall when my parents began to attend a large church near our home. I was eight. A fountain loomed into the sky on the mammoth front lawn of the church. At night after a long, hot church service, a bunch of us knobby-kneed kids would play under the fountain's cool water spray that turned colors in the dark. Pink, blue, green, and finally we stood in awe as fake blood trickled down the illuminated white cross in its center. On the cross was the word "LIFE." It was exactly what that church took from us. Our lives.

We were taught to resist the devil so he would flee. Turn our backs on society, because society would send our souls to Hell. We were told to pray for those we admonished, because until they walked inside our sanctuary and received Jesus as their savior, they were all doomed. We were right, they were wrong. We were good, they were evil. We were the elect of God because we spoke in tongues, they would never make the rapture. We had come out from among them and lived where the healing water flowed.

We gave our last dime and saw the blessings of the Lord in everything. A sale on pantyhose, a bigger tax return than we expected, a great parking spot at the grocery store, a found five-dollar bill at the bottom of our purse. We worked out our salvation in fear and trembling and never, ever doubted the Bible, our salvation, and most of all, our pastor.

We testified to the godless, but never associated with them, unless they joined our church. Not another church. OUR church. And we never cast our pearls before the swine.

I grew up in doctrine and dogma, until one day after I turned seventeen and married my childhood sweetheart, my parents decided they'd had enough. They left the church for good.

But my mother never let go of my hand.

I was to shun my folks, "give 'em a good lettin' alone!" I knew my parents wished they had never stepped foot in that church, but it was too late for me. I was married to it. The relationship with my parents became strained.

I continued to attend what had become a megachurch, striving to please, wanting to be one of them, hoping for good things to happen, believing the blessings of the Lord were right around the corner. I was held over Hell on many occasions when they felt me pulling away. But I always came back, falling to my face at the altar. I had surrendered all. All to Jesus I surrendered, always hoping He would notice and reward me for it. My faith wavered, but I was proud. My husband was on the ministry team, my children were active in the children's church, and I never talked much about our church life to my mom. It was a sore spot.

But my mother continued to pray for me.

As my children grew, they were discouraged by the church to attend Friday night school or social functions. (Our big church service was on Friday nights.) The fear of God had been planted in them. One day, something magical happened. I saw in them what my mother had seen in me. Bondage. It grieved me. I began to pull away. Slowly. It took time, but I wanted to do it before my children became fully indoctrinated. Before I lost them, as my mother had lost me for a time. I wanted to give them a choice. Freedom. And that's when I realized ... I should have left that place long before I did.

The years following were a nightmare. For all of us. I kept waiting for the time I would drop dead and fall into Hell. But it never happened. And it took a long time to shake the fact that I could not convince my husband to compromise. He chose his God and his pastor over me. I had become a contaminant. He did not need to understand me, and there was no reason to try. I was not redeemable. I was, in fact, the dog who returned to its vomit. My fate was sealed. I was dead already.

It took years, but one day I woke up to find my hand had never slipped from God's hand. Through my mother, He had held on to me. I had clawed my way out of the darkness and into the light of God's grace.

Many churches do not hurt. Their members are free to experience life in and outside the church. The church family is an extension of their own. If you belong to that kind of church, consider yourself greatly blessed.

But if your spirit is grieved and hurting, something is wrong. When should you leave your church? I think inside you know the answer to that question. Look into your children's eyes and answer it for yourself. Then you'll know.

Blessings to you and yours.

Would You Drink the Kool-Aid?



 

 

Isn't is amazing that you know to what I am referring?

'Drinking the Kool-Aid' in urban slang, has nothing to do with that wonderful, fruity drink we guzzled by the gallon when we were kids. It refers to the 1978 cult mass-suicide in Jonestown, Guyana. Televangelist, Jim Jones, took cyanide and some kind of sedative and mixed it with Kool-Aid to poison his massive following at Jonestown. It may have been Flavor Aid, but no matter what he used, we know what it means when somebody says, "Don't drink the Kool-Aid!"

I watch a great deal of religious TV, mostly because it's what I write about. Some of it moves me, most of it—does not. Watching one particular televangelist recently, I was moved to tears. Not because of what he was saying, singing, or pushing. It was the faces in the crowd that kept me glued to the screen. Each face was wet with tears. Those precious people, reaching out for hope, for a healing, for God. Their hands raised, these folks had come to that great arena to worship, receive a blessing, and touch the hem of their Creator. It grieved me so, I eventually had to change the channel.

I sure hope that televangelist knows the tremendous responsibility on his shoulders. I wonder.

The new face of televangelism is still pretty much the old face. One of prosperity messages and miracles. The difference is that the audience has grown by mega leaps and mega bounds. In a bad economy, a great majority turns to God for help. They’re attracted by those prosperity messages. The problem as I see it, televangelists can lead sheep to the slaughter like nothing and no one else. They can bring out the tears and sell God better than Tony the Tiger sells cornflakes. They can whip up a batch of Kool-Aid, knowing millions of honest hearts would drink it. And for some reason, we Christians are hesitant to hold our pastors accountable for what they say and do. They don't have to be perfect. In fact, I'd prefer if they were not. But we tend to overlook these rock stars of religion, and confuse the human with the divine, believing every word they speak comes from The Almighty.

Many years ago, I never missed church. I believed, tithed, raised my hands in every service, answered hundreds of altar calls, and gave love offerings instead of paying my light bill. I trusted and obeyed. Sowed my prosperity seeds and read every prosperity scripture over and over again. I gave out of my need. For years I lined the pockets of a pastor who traveled around the world, taking my husband with him, leaving me to suffer alone at home. Until one day I asked myself this question. Do I feed my kids or pay my tithe? I fed my kids.

For years I had loved my preacher, believed in my pastor, and gave everything I had, including my spouse, to the televangelist my pastor had become. In the end, it didn’t matter because I rebelled and “sealed my fate.” I was rejected, divorced, and eventually homeless.

Is there such a thing as a good televangelist? No doubt some possess honest hearts with admirable intentions. But it’s tough to retain those intentions, that good heart, the humility required and pay for expensive TV time. I speak from experience. Be careful. Don’t be a gullible Christian. The wolves are still out there. And so is the Kool-Aid.

 

Blessings to you and yours.