So, the beginning was a long time ago. I was in high school, loosely planning on possible colleges and majors, thinking I would know what to do with myself as soon as I turned 17 or 18, because isn’t that how it works?
It was 1990 that I transferred to a Christian high school from my large public high school. That is another story, but I believe the beginning is there. It wasn’t a mistake for me to transfer, as I was a fairly new Christian and my parents wanted to help me stay that way. I was raised in a Christian home, but that’s just not enough. It’s the heart that matters.
At 16, I really, truly made my own decision about my faith. My youth pastor baptized me (for those who aren’t sure what that means, it’s a public affirmation of my decision to identify with Jesus Christ) and afterward, I was still this cautious, unsteady teen, heavily influenced by my peers and by the idea of “being cool.” Underneath all of that teen angst, it was my heart that was still doubting, still searching, still not entirely sure how life would turn out. We’re humans, that’s what our hearts do.
That school year at the Christian high school, I developed friendships that would last a lifetime, learned literature from passionate lit teachers (Tale of Two Cities will always be dear to my heart after Ms. K’s class), and fretted about boys, dating, my hair, my fashion style (I’m a clothes horse). My faith was there, but quiet. I accompanied the choir on the piano at concerts and graduations, hearing more of the language of music than the words we were singing. I was one of those lukewarm believers. Life was easy, nothing had really touched me yet.
My parents cared so very deeply about us kids. They talked us through the tough stuff: school bullies when we were younger, peer pressure, using cuss words, dating. But we were good kids to begin with. We weren’t unruly, we didn’t sneak out of the house, we didn’t even kiss boys (my brother would pipe up here and say he certainly did not kiss anyone!). So it wasn’t that my parents considered us bad kids, but they worried about our hearts. How do parents protect their kids anyway? It’s something parents still struggle with today. There is no user manual for teenagers, never was. It’s about the heart.
My parents took my sister and me to a series of meetings that spring. This was the Institute in Basic Life Principles Basic Seminar, a week-long plunge into “how then shall we live?” Bill Gothard style. Mr. Gothard runs a parachurch organization that seeks to strengthen families and youth, at least that is how it was presented to us. I listened to that first seminar, laughing with our friends who joined us there when they pointed out that Mr. G didn’t have a clue about dating, as “he wasn’t even married!” But the things talked about were exactly what parents of teens worry about: sex, dating, drugs, alcohol, and yes, rebellion. It looked good at first glance. It seemed to offer help to my family and to thousands of other families who were seeking help with their teenagers. And it was good enough, right?
Back then I believed the folks who cautioned me about the seminar were misinformed. And I had very dear family friends who cautioned me many times about the seminar (thank you, K family!). But when you’re going in, and you’re looking for something, the red flags are just not visible yet.
I have read a lot of commentary online from folks who can’t believe we were suckered into these teachings. “How naive can you be?” they ask. “How could you not see the errors in those teachings?” My family (along with the other thousands of families involved with IBLP/ATI) are scolded and chastened, and taken to task for being “just so ignorant.”
That’s fine. But I bet there is something in everyone’s life that is so obvious to outsiders and that you just can’t see. Some preconceived idea that when thought out to completion is just ludicrous. World wars are fought over these emerging ideas. Thinking out ideas all the way is the hard part. Politics happen because people grasp onto ill-conceived ideas that can’t possibly work in the real world. History proves them to be wrong and yet people still believe them. And I’m not talking about one side or the other; I’m talking both sides, all sides.
I say again, it’s the heart. The heart overrules the mind. The heart is where things don’t make sense all the time. I don’t understand completely what got us into that seminar; I know what we’ve all said it was and what my parents say it was. But really, there was something in my heart that drew ME in.
And once inside of something that seems to work, once you latch onto something that seems like it is the “only way” to do your life, your cautions, your friends’ cautions, and every red flag of discomfort that you raise up in defense only falls away.
That’s why I ask readers of this blog to pray (meditate, send good thoughts, whatever) for people you know who are being “suckered” right now. Rather than attacking the bad beliefs intellectually, realize their hearts are engaged. You couldn’t pull them away if you tried. This can be anything that is wrong: mostly I think of women in dangerous and violent relationships, addicts who can’t kick the substance, people who are living a lie, kids trapped in homes where they are hurt, basically human beings from one end of this earth to the other. Everyone knows someone whose heart is engaged even when they don’t want it to be. Everywhere you look, someone’s badly formed ideas are not being thought out to completion. Look at yourself: Where does your pet idea end? What happens when it blooms?
Scoffing at those people who are “just so much more dumb” than you is the most cowardly approach to life I can imagine. Where is YOUR heart?
At the seminar, my family met other families. We began to do more and more with them, listening to their ideas about how to approach life, and mind you, these are good people. These are lawyers and engineers, politicians, doctors, and college professors, not just folks who live off the grid out in the middle of the woods. During that first summer of our adoption into Patriarchy and Quiverfull, it wasn’t unpleasant. We met a lot of interesting people, had lively discussions about life and what to do in this situation or that, and enjoyed the camaraderie. Who wouldn’t? Our hearts were becoming committed.
But then the situation turned.
{ 4 comments }
Are you going to tell more or leave us hanging?
Mary, I’m going to keep going, but let me be truthful. This is VERY hard on me. I can only do a tiny bit at a time after much praying. I was warned about memoir. It takes a physical and mental toll on the memoir writer. For me, it also has a spiritual burden. So, bear with me. This is a class project and I am moving forward safely, but steady. Thanks for reading! Now you’ll know what makes me tick!
I saw the picture and drove in. Nice stop. Keep it up on that “memoir” deal. I have a stack of journals 2 feet high that I hope to pass on to kids via “memoir”. The problem is that I have to
re-”memoir” the uncomfortable stuff to be honest with the kids ( and myself ). And the uncomfortable stuff gets too emotional to be objective about all at once. A tiny bit at a time will do. Say HI to Todd.
Thank you for sharing although it is difficult. Telling and hearing the “other” side will bring healing to all involved.
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