The wave crashes – my personal story about growing up religious and how that ended

I currently live in a sunny, tropical location where I feel privileged to be able to daily observe the waves crashing as they roll in to shore. I use the waves as a metaphor for how I came to be the person I now am. I grew up in a conservative, fundamental, patriarchal, calvinist, creationist, quiverfull, single-family income family. All of the -isms and ists and such slowly grew into our family until they reached their peak right about a year after I finished my 12th year of homeschooling/co-op/independent learning/community colleges.

At first, my family wasn’t too radical about religion. My parents knew they wanted to homeschool us from the beginning. I was the oldest, and with my father an officer in the military, I’m sure our moving around every 2 years probably played a factor in it. They wanted to give their children a religious up-bringing. I loved my childhood. My mother would take us on great and unique field-trips. We lived on the east coast then, and visiting Monticello where Thomas Jefferson lived and invented, and running on the field where the Wright Brothers first flew their plane, and seeing where George Washington carved his name in a natural bridge in the Appalachian mountains brought American history alive to me.

Then, when I was around 12, a new pastor was brought in by the church and my dad started to become even more “religious”. He started leading bible studies, and every drive to church would quiz us on Bible trivia. He insisted we have personal devotions every morning as soon as we woke up, and we’d have family devotions every night after dinner. I enjoyed learning about the Bible, I didn’t mind memorizing long passages, and worked up memorizing entire books of the Bible (his requirement before we could learn how to drive). A few years later, when I was around 16, he started taking me to creationism, evangelism, and worldview seminars. I enjoyed going to the seminars because I learned new things. I’d read the Bible countless times, I knew what it said, so different material was fascinating. I thought I wanted to be a missionary, so we took in-depth Islamic studies similar to what missionaries would learn. I went on a couple short-term mission trips and I realized I loved traveling. I made lasting memories meeting the local people in third-world countries.  I particularly loved hearing their stories and seeing how they lived their life, trying to understand their culture.

My father believed everything built on each other, and the Bible and God should impact every part of your life.  Christianity was the one thing that my dad and I shared. I was a “rebellious” child, so I was in trouble frequently, but religion was the one thing that I knew I could talk about  with my dad. Lee Strobel’s A Case for Christianity and A Case for Christ made a huge impact on me. I liked having all the answers to life’s toughest questions tightly sewn up in a book. Lee’s life story, that he used to be an atheist and he turned to Christ was powerful and spoke volumes to me. I was baptized in my late teens and while I had the occasional desire to “be more worldly” for the most part I was content with my faith.

***Far from the ocean shore, a small ridge forms past out-cropping of rocks. It didn’t know it, but the ocean behind it is telling it it’s going to do something big, eventually.***

Fast forward to the couple years after I graduated. My family (prodded on by my father) switched to a new church. The smallest church we’d ever attended. It was 40-50 people total I believe. My dad liked the paster because he was staunchly Calvinist, patriarchal, and believed in hard-core evangelism.  We became even more religious with church all day Sunday, Wednesday night Bible study, and Friday night evangelism. I had mixed feelings about the church. Since it was super small, there wasn’t an eligible guy in sight (let’s face it, every good Christian daughter gets married sooner rather than later). But I did get on board with the evangelism. I told myself it was preparation for the mission-field. But still, asking pure strangers “Are you good enough?” never quite sat well with me. I felt like I was guilting them into something. Shouldn’t a genuine faith not require guilt and fear? I preferred an exchange of ideas, friendly debate, explaining flaws in people’s logic.

I was able to go to community college, and I had a few part-time jobs that kept me out of the house a few days of the week. I loved working and earning a paycheck. Babysitting was easy for me, and better yet, when the babies went to sleep, I could try to catch up on the social culture that I felt so far behind in by watching cable TV, and even an occasional R-rated movie.  I’d listen to current music on the radio, and even a couple late-night shows that I knew my mother would never approve of, so I never told her.

***The ridge of water gathers strength, and form. It grows higher and seems to move faster. Even it doesn’t know where or when it’s going to break. It doesn’t know if if it’s going to be majestic and break cleanly, like glass, or tumble over-itself in a mass of foam.***

It starts in a worldly place, with a Christian friend. Of all things, I was trying to explain Carbon-14 dating to her. A tall, dark, handsome and mysterious man who has a couple of classes with me walked over and joined the conversation. He was obviously one of the “others”. The non-believers, the worldly people. We begin conversing, he starts asking me questions, and I tell him I don’t know, but I’d like to do more research. He’s very clear that he doesn’t want me to lose my faith, he just wanted me to think and explore some more. I tell him I don’t mind. It’s a good thing. I like researching and expanding my knowledge. So I go home and pull out every single book in our library that might possibly have to do with creationism apologetics. I read the sections on Carbon-14, and then, like the good scholar I am, I look at the reference pages. I am shocked to find the vast majority of the references were from obviously other Christian scientists who obviously believed in Creationism. I had a hard time accepting what I saw there, plainly. The books had been there the whole time, but I hadn’t seen the obvious deception. Their circular and erroneous logic.

***The wave quickly peaks, its crest perfectly formed in the crescent and the face of the wave crystal clear for a nano-second before it crashes and and the rest of the wave folds into itself.***

Looking at that reference page was the beginning of the end for me.  I’d decided that I’d need to move out. I had to reassess everything that I thought about my life, especially my spiritual life, and I couldn’t do it while living with my family, so I told my parents. My dad arranged for an intervention for me. They took me against my will to his pastor where they guilt-tripped me until I gave up my cell phones. The pastor wanted me to give up my “worldly” jobs, and quit going to a “worldly” school. He pushed for no internet, no phone, no friends, only family and church until I stopped doubting my faith and returned to the fold. That was when the wave crashed for me. I viewed it as essentially brain-washing. I told my father “If all you say is true, why do you need to brainwash me? Haven’t you always said the Truth is there? If I dig more, are you that uncertain that Your truth won’t hold?” It was a wave crashing. Because my father had taught me that everything depended on each other, every spiritual belief I had crumbled into a wide swath of bubbles and foam and nothing-ness.  And it crashed fast and hard – I had moved out of my family’s house within 6 weeks of looking in that first creation apologetics book.

Then, because my spiritual beliefs vanished, my life choices adjusted. I realized what I truly loved: learning and adventure. Traveling and meeting people and seeing how people lived their lives from their eyes, their culture, their values. I was free to work on my career because I sincerely enjoy earning a paycheck and providing for myself. I realized I could enjoy an intimate relationship without the vows of marriage, because, I reasoned, someone who’s not sure of themselves personally, emotionally, spiritually, or sexually should not commit themselves for a life-time to someone else. But most important, I was free to be me, and to figure out what life meant to me, not someone else’s interpretation of something that I should live by.

My wave crashed. Because it crashed, my life changed, but it was necessary, I believe it would have happened sooner or later. The ocean that is my life had the tremors all through my childhood. But it opened me up for my own personal journey, and that’s what matters in the end.

A Homeschool Alumni’s Hope

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Every parent wants what’s best for their child(ren). They invest countless aspects of themselves and their freedoms in order to raise their offspring. It is a natural feeling to want to protect them and wish them the best, and have a grand idea of how you hope your precious children will turn out. I get it. I was raised in the homeschool movement were we were taught that we were going to be the movers and shakers once we became adults. Our parents hoped we’d be positive impacts for our future employers, in our community, and in the world. I personally was homeschooled all the way through my senior year. I am proud of being a homeschool alumni.

There comes a time, however, when we come adults. Our parents have little to no say on the person we choose to be, or how we choose to live our lives. They hope we follow the line they’ve drawn in the sand. When we don’t – we hope they understand, many times it’s not because we don’t love them anymore, it’s because we’re all individuals. We’ve found our own path. I was not the most obedient daughter, my infant nick-name “Birdie” proved to be quite apt as I was a bird – and I frequently flew off – not always in the direction my parents wished. My mom wrote this a few years back about me: “We would tell her to stick with us and she would for a while, but then would venture off again.” No, I know I’m not the person they originally hoped I would be. However, they are proud of the person I am. They’ve grown and changed just as I have. They were the ones who helped me be who I am. They had “given me the tools” for life as my parents often remarked.

The reason I’m writing this is homeschool alumni (particularly Homeschoolers Anonymous) have been raising their voice. There have been abuses that have gone on in our lives, and we do have a right to blog or post or tweet about them. I get that it’s easy to try and dismiss us – we moved out of your house a few years ago, we were children then and weren’t allowed to talk-back. It’s not, however, being disrespectful if it’s telling our story. It’s not being rebellious when we find a scandal and try to have it addressed by those who were involved. Sweeping allegations under the rug, avoiding the tough questions, or ignoring us is not how you taught us to be. You are the ones who raised us. We are adults and we have a voice. We ask you listen to us. If we express that you have harmed us in someway – apologize. Take responsibility. We want reconciliation, we want those relationships restored.

Trust me, we want to share the joys, the sunny days, the happinesses in our lives more than the storms. But we all should face those storms irregardless of whether we want to or not. Do you have the courage to help us make this a better world?

Photo credit: me

Expectations – Early Marriage and Babies

Photo credit: noahslightfoundation

Felt nostalgic on a rainy night, decided to look up the friends I spent my high school years with, seems like 85% are married, 50% of them have younger siblings that are married or engaged, and most of them have at least one kid, if they don’t have a second on the way.

Growing up very fundamental, religious, and home-schooled seemed to indicate that you get married as soon as possible (can’t be having sex out of wedlock – that would present a poor example to the world and we were supposed to be role models). The rumor-mill at church was so bad that people would start surmising that you were “courting” or dating-with-the-intention-of-marriage if they saw one person talking to another person of the opposite gender by themselves after church. I was suspected of such, or rather, I heard from my mother that someone else had asked her if things were headed “that way”.

I have mixed emotions seeing pictures of my old friends following the prescribed path, and evidently loving it. I can’t imagine being pregnant. I can’t imagine getting married in my early twenties. Not to say that my friends didn’t or haven’t gone through what I have as I moved out of my parent’s house, got a full-time job, took night-classes to finish my degree, living on my own or with a boyfriend. I have had time to reflect on who I was “brought up to be” and how I personally want to be and live my life. I have had time to explore life, try different forbidden or generally frowned on activities admonished against the authorities in my life when I was young.

The opinions I had as a teenager are still pretty much the same. I didn’t want to get married young, I didn’t want to have kids (I don’t know if that was a “forever” thing or just a “not for a few years” thought at that time, but that’s not really important). But that doesn’t mean I don’t get an emotional twinge when I see baby pictures of a friend’s baby when we used to sit in classes together, sing in an choir together, and go to each other’s birthday parties. I was Expected to do what they are doing now. I have to keep telling myself that I’m not wrong for not wanting what they have. I’m not guilty of whatever for not having a toddler running around my ankles and my belly pregnant with another one. I’m not sinning if I’m not a stay-at-home mom who greets her husband with a healthy home-made dinner. I am not ashamed I’m using birth control – we all know what that allows and doesn’t allow.

Venting about this helps. I’m starting to realize that the first few years I focused on just living out of the umbrella that was my life – my family and my church. I was just trying to live and prove to myself that I could make it in the world. I stuffed the hurt, the drama, the high-expectations, and the religious oppression down deep. I’m not and have no desire to live the lifestyle that my parents, church, and community tried to get me to swallow for 21 years. I do feel that I’m in a good place in my life, what I’m doing is meaningful, and I am having an impact. Being married with a kid on the way is not the only way to feel like that, and there are other perfectly fine and acceptable ways of living my life – like the way I am.

Photo credit: Noah Slight Foundation

P.S. I’m really excited I figured out how to link for the photo credit – yay me!

P.S.S. I wrote this blog yesterday, but today found a similar post. Here is a link to another blog post by a young woman who thinks and feels the same (although she has the perspective I would have if I still identified as Christian). Nice to know there are others out there like me.