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I was raised Evangelical Christian in a cult.
I'm talking speaking in tongues, passing out at the altar as the minister prayed "over" you, which basically meant a white man would push his sweaty hand into your forehead until you submitted and went down.
We went to Our Evangelical Brand church camp every summer. There were six weeks of camp, and - lucky me - the camp for the whole state was in my hometown. One summer, I even volunteered to "work" for all six weeks. The Director or whatever offered to pay me just over one hundred dollars a week. I had the option to get the money deposited into an account in which it could be used for an upcoming missions trip they had planned, or I could have a check Payable to Me.
At sixteen, I needed gas money and lip gloss, so I obviously took the check. Pretty sure Director wasn't thrilled with my choice not to use that $700ish to go to South America. Like, too mad to say anything, but I could see it all over his face. I was "dating" his oldest son, who was a couple years older than me. He might have been 18, but he acted about twelve.
Pretty sure we never kissed. We weren't really supposed to date back then anyway. You know, court the person you plan to marry. True Love Waits. Promise Rings.
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I caught up with a camp friend recently who is a Fallen Angel like me. We both did our stints at Evangelical College our first years of school. Her's was south and mine was North by Northwest. We both went for the similar reasons. I went because God Told Me To at camp one night. She went because her parents, and the preacher in her home town, and the overly-emotional Evangelists who accompanied her on the South America Missions Trip all coerced her into it. Then, when she got down to Church College they prophesized over her and told her they saw a vision of her betraying God someday or something. AND THEY TOLD HER THIS WHEN SHE WAS SEVENTEEN. I mean, what the actual?!
At our reunion, we talked about the trauma of the Evangelical Christian Cult Upbringing we survived. We both still love our parents, though it might be easier for me. My friend was a victim of repeated sexual molestation, and this happened at the hands of a freaking family member. The church and the rest of her family PROTECTED him. Another family member finally spoke out, but my friend refused to testify, and was essentially shunned by her immediate family and her church, because I don't know... I guess somehow she was the one who was unclean.
I want to hurl curses at the man who hurt her, but he's already dead and gone. He'd gotten six months in a mental health facility and six months of house arrest, and a wife who didn't leave him, but discontinued their shared bed.
My friend did not forgive him on his deathbed. My poor friend, who was living through this when we were fourteen, fifteen and sixteen - and tells me about it when we're 40.
Does time heal? I hope so. It sure heals more than this style of Jesus.
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