Teapot's New In-Laws, Part Two

As I mentioned last time, I started this adventure on Ancestry.com to find the name of my father's grandparents. After being contacted by Mike's siblings in Thanksgiving, I continued searching for this unknown person knowing only his last name, approximate age, and a few names scattered through memories and scraps of aged paper. 

I had all but given up hope. This find was to be a Christmas gift for my father and his one remaining sister. Link after link pulled me further into histories that were almost sure to not be linked to our history. And then, on CHRISTMAS EVE of 2012, I found and followed a new branch of Lindseys, and typed in those names once again. As I added more information, the names fell into place, and I found my great grandfather! That's him up in the top left corner, and it's obvious he shared genes with my father!

Later, after submitting my DNA, 
the data cemented the lineage. 
That is my great grandfather, 
Benjamin Perry Lindsey.
And this is a picture of Benjamin's grandson, holding his great, great, great granddaughter. 


Christmas time brought exchanged snippets and photos with Mike's siblings. None of us knew quite how to approach the subject, and all of us were afraid to hurt each other, or to push too hard. For the next several years, we exchanged birthday greetings, holiday wishes, and pictures of new babies through Facebook. And then. . . 

On March 5th of this year (2018),Mike's sister in law (SIL) shared a clip on Facebook of Dolly Parton doing an interview. Underneath SIL commented that

she was excited to go to Dollywood and see some of the grandkids. My mouth dropped open and I yelled to Mike to find out how many hours it takes us to drive there even though I pretty much knew. Three hours, three teensy little hours. I commented on her post, and the information spewed out. The dates, and possible schedule, and tears, and laughter opening up to an actual get together of the two brothers that had never met or spoken.

At that point, most of the barriers fell. We video chatted with Mike's brother, and SIL. A few days later, we did the same with his younger sister. She cried tears of joy, saying she had waited for this call most of her life.  It turns out that the siblings all knew about Mike, while he knew very little of them. His birth mother had shared information with her other children and had hoped to find Mike again to see if he had done well. Soon after that, we chatted with his older sister, and her daughter. We all had goose bumps from being excited and a bit afraid. This was wonderfully huge!

On Tuesday, March 27th we drove the three hours to Pigeon Forge, TN, our two daughters and their families met us there. Our son couldn't join us, but we showed off pictures of him and his wife. It was late evening, and all of us planned to meet for supper. But since we were staying in the same hotel, and Mike was an eager and anxious as a person can be and survive, we walked to their room and knocked on the door. 

Mike walked in and said "I don't know what to feel or do." His brother said "The same here." Then happened a hug that I will never forget. Two brothers united at last. I have goose bumps remembering that first meeting again. It was a precious time.

Then we all went to a nearby restaurant for a late supper. There were stories and tears, and much laughter. During all of this, they video called their younger sister. She shared a screenshot from her phone on Facebook telling everyone that she was finally together with her brothers. It was incredible. In a way, it was newly awkward, and in another like we had all shared a lifetime. After a few hours that flew by like seconds, our whole exhausted crew turned in for the evening.

The next day we spent talking and talking and talking. We ate breakfast, and then moved to a McDonald's with a play area for the grandkids. The older cousins watched over their little toddler cousin with love and delight. I can't exaggerate how miraculous all of this seemed. Sadly, the time approached for Mike's brother to leave. We lingered a few more minutes to say goodbyes, and then a few more moments outside McDonald's for pictures and promises to meet again.

We left with tears of joy, sadness, and love. Mike, his brother and two sweet sisters have a lifetime of stories to share. Mike now knows a bit more about his birth mother, and how she loved him. We pray we can go west to meet more family in person later this year.

I must give credit for all of this joy to God's timing. If I had not started a family tree on Ancestry, if I had not seen the Dollywood post, if the week they were in Tennessee had not been Mike's week off from work, and much more. . . . God's mysterious ways and blessings. 

Serve God, love others.

Teapotjan 

Teapot's New In-Laws, Part One

 Some of my actual ancestors.

I almost went a month without posting, but I have much on my heart, and mind that I want to share. One of things I've realized lately comes with the desire to tell my story to anyone who will listen or read in the hopes that I can give them some encouragement and edification. God expects us to use our talents, and I stand rebuked for not having done that. I cannot change anything in the past, but I can certainly change my future with His help.

March 2018 goes down in family history as a great and wonderful mile marker. As promised to some of you, this is the story of how Ancestry.com and Facebook brought together siblings that had never before talked or met.

Little Mike

My husband, Mike, grew up with loving, adopted parents that welcomed him into their hearts on Christmas Eve 1960. He was only a few days old, and even though he grew up knowing he was adopted, his adopted parents were Mom and Dad. The few details he knew about his birth mother satisfied his curiosity until around the spring of 2012. At that point, I shared with him a few pictures of his birth mother, and three of his siblings along with letters that his birth mother sent to his adopted mom. The two mothers shared correspondence until Mike turned 18. After that all communication from the birth mother ceased. 

Meanwhile, I had been asking my father about family ties and names, and found that he did not know his grandparent's names. He was the youngest of eight children with a wide spread of years between the oldest sibling and himself. That spring of 2012, I joined Ancestry.com and began to build our family tree. After asking permission, I also started a tree for Mike with the bit of information his mom had left with me. I had the birth date and name of his birth mother, and a rough idea of where she had lived.

Thanksgiving that year brought a huge and wonderful surprise. I received a message from a lady saying that the name I had for Mike's mother was the same as her mother's name. I wrote back telling her that I might have an unexpected surprise for her. I scanned and sent her one of the pictures of Mike's birth mom and siblings. Her reply was an thrilling "That's me, and my brother and my sister, and my MOM! I've found Mama's lost son! Finally!" They had been searching for Mike, and neither he nor I had a clue. 

We connected on Facebook and chatted back and forth through FB messenger, and became a little acquainted. But matters like this can be awkward, and both sides approached each other slowly. But this past March, things leapt forward in the best of ways. I'll share the rest of this saga in my next post.                                       

Serve God and love others,

Teapotjan

Back on the Fire--Teapot's Return

Some of you who know me personally know that I do not attend church. I said it long ago in an ancient post, and it is still true. I feel very uncomfortable in regular church meetings due to my background in IFB and the subsequent and overwhelming emotional issues that accompany such a background.  

I skipped blogging the entire year of 2017. No excuses. Nothing stirred me to the point that I needed to let off steam, at least not in a public forum. I don't like to share if I don't think my words will help someone. And I didn't feel that anything I could say would edify or entertain or . . . anything. We went through a major remodel and I love the results. I may share more of that in the future. Also, I have fallen more in love everyday with my granddaughter. And this doting grandma dares you to find a sweeter, cuter, smarter little girl on the planet. I do NOT exaggerate. :0)

So, why come back to blogging at all? Isn't everything the same? You still aren't going to church, and you're still busy, and you are still doting on your granddaughter. What is new?

Actually nothing is new. But I received a reminder yesterday that God uses adverse circumstances to allow His children to show others His grace and love. 

My husband has joined a local church that has existed for a long time here in this area. I have visited that church over the years, and some of the things they once subscribed to really bothered me. However, in recent years, the church leaders have addressed those issues in a Godly manner. I still can't imagine going to a regular service on a regular basis. But, because of a major distraction and difficult event (husband's knee replacement), God sent my way a sweet friend who demonstrates the kind of life a Christian lives when they truly serve God and love others. She invited me to a women's luncheon. The ladies were sweet and friendly. The speaker's message broke my heart for her sorrow, and her words reminded me that I do have a story to tell. I can use my continuing hurt and my failures to demonstrate God's grace, and its best attribute-HOPE.


I know that even when I took that long walk to my van and lost my belief in Him and my faith was gone, He had not moved or changed. He knew I felt hopeless and hurt and useless. And remembering that has put this short, stout teapot back in the fire.

If you need a friend, a shoulder to cry on, or have questions, please let me know. With God's help, I will do my best to help and encourage you. Or just listen. 






With great love,
Teapotjan

Serve God. Love others.

Abuse Within the IFB Bubble

Below find a link to the personal testimony of a brave lady who suffered abuse with the IFB system. She now shares how she struggled and survives. Please take the time to read her story. This kind of thing must end.

A Personal Story of Abuse from Wendy Terrado

Time Flies Whether You're Having Fun or Not

Life goes by very quickly, as most of you know. I've often wondered how long days can turn into short years, and how a week can fly by and turn into six months. The relativity of time amazes me. And it baffles me, too.

That said, my family and I have had an eventful year. Part of it wonderful, and part of it agonizing, and all of it tempered with love, tears, and grace. And most of all it was FAST! My life train and personal plans and this blog and my art life have all been derailed several times, and attempts to put it back on track only partially successfully. By far, the biggest blessing was this young lady, my granddaughter Madeline. All the things they say about being a grandparent are more than true. When your baby has a baby. . . it's just too sweet and precious for words.

I am going to post this and another blog entry together. This one to say that hopefully, I am returning to regular posting, and another to share another blogger's post concerning the issue of abuse. The entries I will share specifically deal with a victim speaking out and bravely sharing her tragic story.

Serve God, love others.
Teapotjan, Grandma!

Abuse and a Friend

First, I have been pondering many issues, and knew that I had much to share. That's what brought me back to my blog. So many people hurt. They feel alone. They are intimidated by big scholarly books, and they need down to earth advice and help. That is why I answered the Teapot's whistle. It is my ministry, and part of my calling. It scares and humbles me that people actually read my words, so I pray for wisdom. I share in order to serve God and love others, and I do not want to bring reproach to my Lord. I welcome your prayers, suggestions, and questions.

A while back I wrote a blog called Better Than I Deserve. After some thinking about that phrase, common in many Christian groups, I came to the conclusion that this response might not be particularly accurate. But let me say that I understand what the person stating it means, and I find no fault in anyone who uses it. 

This issue came up again when a dear, dear friend asked me if I thought it was okay escape an abusive relationship. Case in point: if a close friend/partner continually ignores and emotionally abuses you, failing to respond to requests for counsel or help, should you break completely and permanently away though it causes them great, and damaging emotional pain? Would God be okay with that? Is it okay to seek happiness after the break? Should you feel overwhelmingly guilty? 

With my big "F" Fundamentalist background along with my people-pleasing personality, my answer a few years ago would have been a resounding "NO!" I would have counseled the hurt party to pray for patience, and stick it out in the name of putting someone else first. After all, we are taught to always put others first. But, it struck me wrong that God would want one of His children to suffer at the hand of another.

I have searched for verses that apply to abusive relationships. What I have found is that most of them refer to how or how not the relationship reflects Christ's love for the Church. In fact, Jeremiah 3:8 speaks of how God "divorced" Israel because they had broken the covenant or vow He had with them. It's there, go read it if you don't believe me. A broken vow can be repaired, but if the one who broke it refuses the repair, then the vow no longer stands. It's an easy choice for many when adultery or physical abuse breaks the vow. But verbal abuse seems an unlikely reason to divorce or break a partnership to anyone who never experienced it. Those who have suffered from emotional abuse know better. But that's another blog entry.

Suffice it to say, that emotional abuse leaves scars and open wounds that often never heal. PTSD comes not so much from the physical abuse a victim suffers, but rather, the emotional harm and devaluation of their humanity the abuse caused. So abuse of any kind lingers with the victim emotionally long after the incident passes. 

I hate reading long posts, so I will stop with this: There is NO VERSE or teaching in the Bible that says a person must stay in an abusive relationship. Next, we'll talk about the aftermath of the break.

Praying for wisdom, grace, and peace.
Teapotjan

Heeding the Whistle

It has been close to a year since I ended a second post at the door of my van after a long, dark walk from the front entrance building at Bob Jones University. It has been a very rough year, not just for me, but for many of my close friends. After an email from a very dear friend, I knew it was time to take the teapot off the stove, and quiet the whistle once again.

First, I need to finish what happened at the end of the walk I discussed months ago in Teapot's Long Walk and A Teapot in the Dark. I'd love to say that I'm all healed, but it wouldn't be true. This world has become darker with mass shootings, hate crimes, and general malaise and selfishness among its inhabitants. And many of God's people have ignored the deep needs of those around them, and substituted "I'll pray for you" in place of love and service.

I came to my van that day in August 2011 with a broken heart, a betrayed trust, and little, if any, faith in God. I had always been the good girl, people-pleaser I was expected to be as taught throughout my life in church, school and home. But when I began to stand up against unequal treatment, and wrong-doing that I knew existed, I was harassed, and even worse----ignored. That was not supposed to happen in a Christian environment to one of God's children who worked so hard to do right. So, as you see in those posts mentioned above, the foundation of who I was, and all the facets of my life crumbled leaving a dark, Godless void.

The good news is that my faith returned.I didn't completely dismiss God as some understandably do. I can only credit the grace of God for that. It was not of my own doing, because I was ready to ditch everything I had believed. Though, thinking about it, I actually did. But the Holy Spirit within me helped me build a new foundation of brick formed of grace and bonded with love for others. My perspective of others began to change from the "us versus them" viewpoint of non-Christians to just "us;"  made in His image and deeply loved by God.

My new foundation is a work in progress as am I. I still wind up chucking a brick or two into the abyss of non-belief and depression. But what remains is stable enough to keep me grounded. Each brick formed of grace is not based on what I learned from man, but from my personal relationship with God.

My beliefs, my thoughts, my sins, God's love.

My next post will be all about that shrieking teapot, and what it is calling me to do. 

Serve God! Love Others!

Teapotjan

A Teapot in the Dark

In my last regular post, I ended again with that long walk to my van. Faith gone. Disillusioned. Crying. Frightened. In spite of the bright August sun, I was in the dark. I didn't know anyone or anyplace I could look for guidance. All of my regular sources bore the stench of betrayal, and I turned inward.

I feebly attempted to appear happy. It was nice to stay at home, but I grew restless quickly. I tried to make up for the loss of income by clipping coupons, and looking for deals. And I learned that I HATED clipping coupons. (Seriously, still do). I started working fervently on a wedding for a friend, and that became a welcome distraction, but I still felt sick at heart, and numb. Numb, at least until the realization of what had happened in a place that I had loved and defended for years washed over me. So I capitulated between disinterest, empty euphoria, and tears. 

I had a health issue that had grown worse during the year or so before that made my emotions all the more volatile. After a falling out with the bride I was helping, I turned over all the work I had done, and was not able to see the fruits of my labor at the wedding. And, honestly, the dark got even darker. And I was bitter, bitter, bitter, and so sad. God had deserted me. I was sure of this. And Satan whispered often to me that I was of no worth, and that God was distant and uncaring.

There were many conversations with acquaintances that ended in "If you could just pray and find a good church, you will be so much better." At that point they might have well told me to slather my self in syrup and stand on ant hill. Prayers ended in tears and bitterness, and church services? They turned my stomach. "All these stupid people gobbling this stuff up. What have they done differently than me? Just wait. You'll all find out just how futile all of this is." This inner monologue went on and on. I am still grateful that no one could read my mind. It all just. . . . hurt, both physically and mentally.

It would be a wonderful thing to say that all of this is now resolved, and that every, single day I am a happy, giddy Christian flitting about Greenville with wings strengthened by God's grace, but that's a lie. Many days are still dark. The story of my dark times continues, but I will soon share what God does for a sad, short, stout gal who has lost her faith, and trust.

Even as I write this, my heart heaves with a recent, new hurt, and my emotional state is, let's say "fragile." (Goodness-I do seem to cry in some way with every single emotion. I am soooo not a Vulcan). I struggle with a loss of support from someone close to me. I know that God sent that person along to help me during the dark times after leaving Bob Jones. But, for now, due to a transgression on my part, that support is gone, and I'm not sure I will ever gain it back. 

I say that not to discourage, but to share a lesson I am learning right now, in this moment. Because God did bring me through those dark times before, and

He did show me the light even when I tried to close my eyes tight and turn away, I know that He is still there. He does still care. I know what my heart wants, but I am willing to follow Him, even if it pulls me away from people very dear to me. No, I don't want that to happen. Not. At. All. But God sees all, and He will provide what I need. He is never the problem. It's me. But, He loves me anyway. That's pretty amazing. 

So, my plan in my next post is to share a few more details of my lessons learned, and how God works in those details.

Prayers for all of you.

Serve God. Love others.

Teapotjan

Teapot's Interlude

Not enough time this week to finish another post, 

but this sums up a lot of my life.

Love,

Teapotjan

Teapot's Long Walk

At the end of my last post, Satan had delivered his one-two punch of guilt and self doubt. I was leaving a job I had truly loved, and a place that I had thought rested on the pinnacle of the Christian faith, and I was walking toward my van to leave both forever. And everything was black. Everything. My faith in man and God was gone, and I did not want to move forward.

I resigned of my own choice. But that decision was based on how the administration of my department had treated me as a woman, and co-worker, as well as the lack of support from the school administration. I had fought, since my husband had left the school two years before, to receive the same benefits as my male co-workers. After a long year of paying tuition for the only child enrolled at that time, and a struggle to work until five and throughout the summer without the benefit of paid child care, my struggles seem to pay off, and I was granted back tuition and child care. I was exceptionally happy, and I felt validated. The news came while my family was on vacation in South Dakota, and I actually looked forward to the end of vacation and my return to work.

Someone posted the other day on Facebook saying that if you can tell your story without crying, then you are healed. But, even four years later, I still can't talk or write about this without shedding a least a few tears. 

When I returned to work after vacation, things became much worse. I had a staff co-worker lie directly to my face, and then deny it. I overheard comments and implications about how I, along with one or two other department employees needed to be forced out because we demanded too much training for our student workers. And I found that many of the female students did not want to deal with that same co-worker because of the questionable things he said to them. Scheduling changes in training were made and I was not informed, along with many other actions and talks that I now realize were harassment. At one staff meeting, I made the statement that if I were a man, I would be more respected. One co-worker said to me under his

breath "You know, there's an operation for that."I did report it, and I was brushed aside. Yet I still heard in chapel, and in faculty staff meetings that all these kinds of decisions were made by godly men, making prayerful, godly choices. And I kept trying.

But day after day, I returned home from work, crying, stressed and sick. Rumors about me and my family flew around the school, and made their way to my church. It wasn't that I was worried about the rumors because that's just what they were. But it was those who heard them, knew they weren't true and did nothing. At all. In fact, the main rumormonger was promoted above to "keep him away from the students as you requested." As the school year passed, I knew I had to leave for my own health, and for my family.

That long walk was only a hundred feet or so, but by the time I reached the driver's side door, I had determined that God must be watching from very far away, if indeed He existed, and that I had been an idiot to trust that He would bother with me.

So, here I am again-at that van. The walk is over, but the next few months were very dark. Again, I say that if God had not watched over me, and lead me even in my blindness toward Him, I would not be here to write these words.

Next, I'll finish the details of those darkest months, and share how God in His wisdom and grace delivered me.

God is Good,

Teapotjan

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

Southern Teapot- Recent FB post

As most of you know, I am deeply proud of my Southern heritage. The words "y'all" and "yonder" are as sweet to my ears as the tea I drink is to my tongue. I fiercely support my local BBQ place as the best. And I can cook a pot of grits, buttermilk biscuits, and a pan of cornbread with my eyes closed.

My family on both sides has been here since the late 1600's. And many of them fought in the Revolutionary War, and then their prodigy fought for the Confederacy. A few of them owned slaves. Others fought in the war to preserve their way of life, and maintain state's rights. But most were the product of their time, I'm sure, and they viewed black slavery as a good use for an "lesser, and ignorant race of human."

The South was, and is still strong. We will not lose that strength by "giving in to the liberals" that want the Confederate flag removed from the state house grounds. We will gain strength by uniting with those that are not just offended, but hurt by the sight of it. Their family stories still echo with the sounds of a whip, and the cry of their great grandparents. Their picture albums contain scenes of a relative hanging by the neck from a tree. How many of us white Southern folks have the emotions those memories evoke each time we see the Rebel flag?

No, we can't give in to everyone's offenses. We will cave as a society. Maybe that is coming. Maybe this is a precedent. But, I'm not will to support anything that hurts my fellow Americans as much as the Confederate Flag's presence on SC State House grounds hurts so many. It's time to take it down, and put it in a museum as a dark reminder of a dark practice. 

The South is strong, but we used our strength to hurt. We shouldn't forget that, so do not banish that flag to obscurity. Put it on display in museums. Teach our children about it and speak of it as symbol of what misplaced loyalties and misused strength can do. Show all of our children, black and white and all other shades, that respect of all human life is part of God's commandment: Love one another.

 Love y'all! Teapot

The Tempestuous Times of Teapot's Tempest

Apologies to my readers, and myself for waiting so long to post. I need this outlet, but I've let the tempest overtake me for awhile. I think I owe you all a quick update.

I started on my Masters degree last fall. Two classes down, and eleven more to go! I am waiting to sign up for the last class of this session to take my third class because my oldest daughter is getting married in May right after Memorial Day. We are putting this extravaganza together in about three months time in order to accommodate a dear friend and adopted family member who will be deployed soon. His presence is a must, so we are happily pressed for time. It will be a delight to include him in our family celebration!

In addition to this wedding, another very close friend, who is like my sister, has a son getting married in July. I'm helping coordinate that celebration and the push for that one is on as well! Oh, and my youngest finishes high school in a few weeks with all the parties, and hoopla that entails. I guess I'm a teapot IN a tempest.

All of this, along with job and family, leaves little time for blogging. But, at times, my heart overflows and I feel I must get back to sharing what I'm learning on this journey from guilt to grace. It's not easy, and I trip, and back track, and fail, but the goal is still the same: to serve God and love others.

My return, though late, has to do with something that has been around for a while. Frankly, I thought this matter had been put to rest. But more and more of late, it creeps its ugly way back into my mind as a tool of Satan I'm sure. Here I sit on my computer, a fifty-three year old mother of three, saved since I was five, and I have to fight doubt about my faith. No, I can't believe it either, but there it is. This isn't a question of my salvation. It's much bigger than that. 

When I first felt that I must leave my job at a certain Christian University, I had already begun to question why I believed what I did. As that situation grew worse, and my heroes fell from their high places, I began to doubt. Big Time. Call it cynicism if you will, but I began to examine their teachings, and all the things that I had been taught as absolute truth and doctrine since I was born, literally. And in that examination I found many, many, many problems. Much of my fundamentalist training was based on OPINION! Not fact, not even interpretation, but some man's so-called "blessed" of the Holy Spirit; Bible-thumping; say-it-louder-until-these-idiot-sinners-understand; can-I-get-an -amen? brow-wiping OPINION that came to them while driving down the road in their Lincoln town car on the way to another meeting. 

Most of us who have left fundamentalism have been labeled as "bitter." And,in all honesty, I have to say I have struggled with it, especially at the start. I looked back at all the guilt I had endured. All the culottes I had sewed and worn, along with the lace my mom sewed on the bottom of a dress to make it "long enough." I thought about the hoops we had to jump through to be "good" Christians, and all the hell-fire-and-brimstone messages I had heard, and I got bitter. Still do, sometimes.

I grew up thinking that Hell was the reason we were to be good. And we should put up every stop sign and blockade necessary to keep people from following the wrong road to Hell. The emphasis was Hell, and eternal damnation. And so many of us were saved, not into God's grace, but from Hell, and we had to live our lives in an exact way to prove it. It was considered loving to buttonhole a person and tell them they were "Going straight to Hell" unless they repented.
     
It was at this point, that my faith went out from underneath me. I don't think those around me realized how bleak it was for me. They believed my tears

and upset caused by the loss of a job I had loved, and a way of life I had dreamed about since youth. That was part of it. But, much deeper, it was the loss of my belief that God was in control, and that Godly men had prayed and done His will in all these things. They had not. They couldn't have. A lot of what they had said were virtually lies. They were pompous, egotistical MEN who forced their way into congregations, denominations, and Christian universities. It all became a sham to me. I've studied communications and psychology a long time, and I recognized the spin they had put on their sermons, and rules, and all of their . . . . . um, manure. And, believe me, I was bitter.

In my next post, I'll deal with what had recently brought some of this bitterness back, and how God is helping me to get past it. Here's a news flash: God is AWESOME, ETERNAL, FAIR, AND LOVING. He did not leave me in this dark time. I'll share more next time.

Serve God. Love others!
Teapotjan.