18 ICSA TODAY
have for our friends was to point out their sins. The result, for me,
was a negative reframing of the gospel of love into a caricature
that produced fear and shame.
At the end of every session my counselors would lead me in
a prayer to confess all my sins, leaving me to name them. If
I left one out, they would prompt me. Once I had confessed
(oftentimes just to end the light session), they were all smiles
and love, and they told me I was now free of the sins and right
with God. I felt relieved, but also worn out, beaten down, and
ashamed. I walked around in a daze and no longer knew who I
was.
The consistent message to me was that I am guilty, as a state
of being, not just from any action I had taken. We heard this
constantly through the teachings, the tapes, the counseling
sessions, and in daily conversation.
The community members even
composed songs extolling the
virtue of always taking the position,
whether true or not, of being
wrong or guilty in any relationship
or situation. Feeling so guilty,
it’s no wonder we grew insular
as a community. I certainly felt
threatened every time I went to
town, wondering whether the townspeople could see what a
terrible person I was. Out in “the world” people were supposedly
cruel and unforgiving about sin, so I ended up looking only to CJ
for the eventual release of my pain, and the hoped-for state of
spiritual maturity that was promised.
As this state of being took root in me, the harshness of the
accusations became acceptable. My body would still react in
fear at counseling sessions, with clenched stomach and shaking
hands. The process was humiliating and excruciating, but I
endured it instead of fighting it. The leaders’ rationale was that
the exposure of our sins causes us to die to them, and this was
likened to Jesus dying on the cross. The only way we could
come into resurrection life was to go through this daily death to
self. I relabeled my fear and resistance as sin and accepted the
suffering of shame, guilt, and humiliation as my just desserts and
the only way to God and resurrection life.
Not only had I accepted the teaching that there was no good in
me, but also the added dimension that there was nothing good
in my former life or family. For example, I had done well in high
school, and I loved learning. I also wanted very much to be a
good mother. I would have loved to read books and go to classes
on raising children but the leaders said they had the “inside
scoop” on what the Bible teaches about raising children, and
that, mixed with their unusual take on family idolatry, made me
the spotlight of their corrections related to anyone being a bad
mother. Specifically, how they separated me from my children
and made me believe I was bad for them deserves a study all
its own. That is the area my children and I are still the most hurt
about.
I also was in charge of the garden, the A/V department, and
the CJ’s candle shop at different times I did a good job and
never received any praise or recognition for my work. The CJ
philosophy was that the best we did was the least we could do
for God.
The way the leaders talked about sin made me think my initial
happiness on becoming Christian had been shallow. There was
a lot of teaching about the deeper life and the gifts of the Holy
Spirit—prophecy, healing, visions. These were rewards that I
wanted, so I followed their piper’s tune and was led into a life of
sin hunting. They also said that the hardness of this life was not
for everyone, but that God had brought me to CJ, so this was the
path I needed to follow to be saved. This made me feel that I had
a special calling.
There were periods during the week or month when I was not
in the spotlight or under the gun. These times made it even
harder for me to see how damaging
the process was because it was mixed
with normal, middle-class life, which I
very much wanted. My husband had a
decent job we had a car and could pay
our bills, and we were raising a family.
All of this outward normalcy blinded
me and motivated me to suppress my
concerns. I did not want to return to
poverty and insecurity, especially now that I had children. I was
motivated to fit in and maintain the lifestyle we had gained.
It also seemed that I was the only one resisting “the truth.” Even
my husband seemed to go along with it more than I did. The
more I hung onto my sense of individuality, the more doing
so put me into conflict with others. The conflict would show in
chance comments I would make in conversation that others
would be disgusted about and in turn isolate me. I would literally
stand or sit alone at group gatherings because no one wanted
to talk with me. I got to points of desperation where I felt as if I
would die.
These breaking points were traumatic and cyclical, repeating
several times in my 40 years in the community. I had to conform
to survive. I would become so emotionally distraught, confused,
and desperate that I would confess I was wrong and ask for
help. Then I would get approval people would be friendly
to me again I was included and accepted and a part of the
family. The relief could last for months. I would be given a new
job or responsibility, and life was good and worth living—all
were positive reinforcements of the change. My gratitude and
commitment to CJ was deepened.
I became again a mouthpiece for the party line. This role created
dissonance with my deep inner self and contributed to the next
cycle starting up again and slowly growing. I tried my hardest to
deny and stifle any inner contrary thoughts. I tried hard to live
the life they taught in order to avoid the annihilation I feared, not
realizing that denying my true inner self was the very process
that would bring the conflict on again. They promised salvation
but only gave annihilation of self.
The more I hung onto my
sense of individuality, the
more doing so put me into
conflict with others.
have for our friends was to point out their sins. The result, for me,
was a negative reframing of the gospel of love into a caricature
that produced fear and shame.
At the end of every session my counselors would lead me in
a prayer to confess all my sins, leaving me to name them. If
I left one out, they would prompt me. Once I had confessed
(oftentimes just to end the light session), they were all smiles
and love, and they told me I was now free of the sins and right
with God. I felt relieved, but also worn out, beaten down, and
ashamed. I walked around in a daze and no longer knew who I
was.
The consistent message to me was that I am guilty, as a state
of being, not just from any action I had taken. We heard this
constantly through the teachings, the tapes, the counseling
sessions, and in daily conversation.
The community members even
composed songs extolling the
virtue of always taking the position,
whether true or not, of being
wrong or guilty in any relationship
or situation. Feeling so guilty,
it’s no wonder we grew insular
as a community. I certainly felt
threatened every time I went to
town, wondering whether the townspeople could see what a
terrible person I was. Out in “the world” people were supposedly
cruel and unforgiving about sin, so I ended up looking only to CJ
for the eventual release of my pain, and the hoped-for state of
spiritual maturity that was promised.
As this state of being took root in me, the harshness of the
accusations became acceptable. My body would still react in
fear at counseling sessions, with clenched stomach and shaking
hands. The process was humiliating and excruciating, but I
endured it instead of fighting it. The leaders’ rationale was that
the exposure of our sins causes us to die to them, and this was
likened to Jesus dying on the cross. The only way we could
come into resurrection life was to go through this daily death to
self. I relabeled my fear and resistance as sin and accepted the
suffering of shame, guilt, and humiliation as my just desserts and
the only way to God and resurrection life.
Not only had I accepted the teaching that there was no good in
me, but also the added dimension that there was nothing good
in my former life or family. For example, I had done well in high
school, and I loved learning. I also wanted very much to be a
good mother. I would have loved to read books and go to classes
on raising children but the leaders said they had the “inside
scoop” on what the Bible teaches about raising children, and
that, mixed with their unusual take on family idolatry, made me
the spotlight of their corrections related to anyone being a bad
mother. Specifically, how they separated me from my children
and made me believe I was bad for them deserves a study all
its own. That is the area my children and I are still the most hurt
about.
I also was in charge of the garden, the A/V department, and
the CJ’s candle shop at different times I did a good job and
never received any praise or recognition for my work. The CJ
philosophy was that the best we did was the least we could do
for God.
The way the leaders talked about sin made me think my initial
happiness on becoming Christian had been shallow. There was
a lot of teaching about the deeper life and the gifts of the Holy
Spirit—prophecy, healing, visions. These were rewards that I
wanted, so I followed their piper’s tune and was led into a life of
sin hunting. They also said that the hardness of this life was not
for everyone, but that God had brought me to CJ, so this was the
path I needed to follow to be saved. This made me feel that I had
a special calling.
There were periods during the week or month when I was not
in the spotlight or under the gun. These times made it even
harder for me to see how damaging
the process was because it was mixed
with normal, middle-class life, which I
very much wanted. My husband had a
decent job we had a car and could pay
our bills, and we were raising a family.
All of this outward normalcy blinded
me and motivated me to suppress my
concerns. I did not want to return to
poverty and insecurity, especially now that I had children. I was
motivated to fit in and maintain the lifestyle we had gained.
It also seemed that I was the only one resisting “the truth.” Even
my husband seemed to go along with it more than I did. The
more I hung onto my sense of individuality, the more doing
so put me into conflict with others. The conflict would show in
chance comments I would make in conversation that others
would be disgusted about and in turn isolate me. I would literally
stand or sit alone at group gatherings because no one wanted
to talk with me. I got to points of desperation where I felt as if I
would die.
These breaking points were traumatic and cyclical, repeating
several times in my 40 years in the community. I had to conform
to survive. I would become so emotionally distraught, confused,
and desperate that I would confess I was wrong and ask for
help. Then I would get approval people would be friendly
to me again I was included and accepted and a part of the
family. The relief could last for months. I would be given a new
job or responsibility, and life was good and worth living—all
were positive reinforcements of the change. My gratitude and
commitment to CJ was deepened.
I became again a mouthpiece for the party line. This role created
dissonance with my deep inner self and contributed to the next
cycle starting up again and slowly growing. I tried my hardest to
deny and stifle any inner contrary thoughts. I tried hard to live
the life they taught in order to avoid the annihilation I feared, not
realizing that denying my true inner self was the very process
that would bring the conflict on again. They promised salvation
but only gave annihilation of self.
The more I hung onto my
sense of individuality, the
more doing so put me into
conflict with others.
