The Teapot Has Left the Bubble! A Look Back

Way back at the start of spring before weddings, and graduations, and broken air conditioners, and cars that wouldn't start, and a few weeks with a sweet friend with Alzheimer's, and the loss of a beloved aunt, I wrote a blog about how some happenings had triggered a return of an old enemy: bitterness.

All the things in that list, along with a few recent ponderings brought that post back to mind, along with that same old feeling, along with its more malicious buddies, guilt and self-doubt. I think these three emotions are some of Satan's most malicious weapons in the lives of Christians.

If you know me, or have read any of my posts, you know that I have physically stepped away from the IFB (Independent Fundamental Baptist) movement and all of the churches, speakers, and groups similar to or related to them. In fact, four years ago on August 27th, 2011, I walked out of the entrance building on the campus of Bob Jones University, leaving behind a job of 11 years, and a lifetime of IFB mentality. The Bubble surrounding the university and all of its satellite churches, had popped for me, and the regular world loomed before me. And, as I walked to my vehicle, my faith in God dropped out from under me.

I was scared. I was angry. I felt betrayed, abused, used, stupid, and very, very alone. And that's where I left that post long ago back in April.If God had not smothered me in His grace, I'm not entirely sure I'd be alive to write this post. That was not a good state for someone who already battled clinical depression.
The problem was, and still is at times, that much of what I had been taught all my life had been man's opinion of God's Word. I had based my life choices on these teachings. I worked at being the "ideal Christian" daughter, teen, college student, wife, school teacher, and mom. When I failed, as I often did, the guilt could be overwhelming. It seemed incredibly difficult to be what God wanted me to be-futile really. But, I was assured Sunday after Sunday that this was the way a Christian's life should be spent: in a desperate struggle to attain Christlikeness. Cue the song "I've Got the Joy-Joy-Joy-Joy Down in My Heart" in a minor key.

Oh the guilt, the wretched, wretched guilt. Not repentance. Just a hopeless feeling of guilt of not being good enough. Of failing yet again. Paying for a moment of what I thought was guilty pleasure with far more guilt than pleasure. 

On the way home today, I had a flash back when Barry Manilow's "I Write the Songs" came floating out of my van speakers. I instinctively reached out to change the station because that song had been "uncheckable" since 1975 until about 2011 for me. I laughed, and then listened to this "evil" song that had I listened to only when my parents, pastor, and teachers would not know of my grave indiscretion. Some of you may think I'm exaggerating, but those who grew up as I did know that I truly am not.

And then? As I continued to listen to the innocuous, but "uncheckable" lyrics, I became bitter. Just for a moment. But there it was. Flashes of the lecture on the evils of rock and pop music ran through my mind. Good grief! What a religion to cause good-hearted, God-loving people to feel guilty over listening to anything

secular besides very old songs,opera and classical music! How does that help the cause of the Gospel?

The answer is that it does not. If Satan can use guilt to cripple one of God's children to the point of hopelessness, then he has scored a victory. A hopeless, guilty Christian will never be as effective in God's service as a Christian who has embraced the full knowledge of God's grace. And after enough years of guilt, and failure? Cue the self-doubt.

I remember thinking as a young mother that I failed my children everyday that they didn't go over their verses for Awana, or when I was just too tired to get to church on my own. (My husband's schedule has always been difficult, so I was often a "single" mom through no fault of his). I also remember, the passive-aggressive suggestions from leaders in the church and their wives that I surely could do better in my attendance, all the while never offering to help or making one phone call for encouragement. Hmmmm. That's another blog post right there.
I wallowed in self-doubt. I asked for help, and I was told to "believe and pray." I already was. But, I thought I must be doing that wrong, too. Yay! Guilt AND self-doubt. Satan delivered his one-two punch, and I was down for the count.

This is getting long, but up next, is that walk to my van.   

Prayers and blessings,

Teapotjan