VOLUME 3 |NUMBER 2 |2012 15
For example, I know of a woman who had been mugged on
the subway on her way to church. Frightened, she returned
home. Her more mature roommate rebuked her sternly for
not using the money in her pocket to venture on to church.
There was never an excuse for missing a church service.
When I was in True Church, I went to service on Sunday,
Wednesday evening, and Friday nights. I also attended a
Bible study, time with my “discipler,” and studies with
non-Christians. I am still astounded that I graduated from
college with all of these demands on my time. I have a lot
of intellectual curiosity, and it is painful to me that I
wasted my college years.
Don’t get me wrong: The church leaders expected us to
be excellent students, so that we could be examples to the
world. I simply couldn’t manage everything. One’s entire
True Church existence is centered on “growing” as a
Christian and bringing in as many people as possible.
We were taught how to meet people during classes, on
subways, in grocery store lines, and bring them to Bible
studies. We kept small notebooks with people’s telephone
numbers and notes about them. This process was
ultimately supposed to lead to “fruit,” or conversions.
When I was selling church, I brought in numerous visitors.
Many were baptized. I “discipled” three young sisters, but
two “fell away,” or left the church. The leaders reassigned the
other young woman to a “more challenging discipler,” who
would address her sin and doubt more aggressively. In 5
years, I rose only to assistant Bible study leader, while those
who were recruited at the same time were ministry interns
or women’s counselors. I was constantly plagued with
doubts, which were assuaged by my older sisters, women
also in the church.
People often ask me why I stayed so long. Living in the
church was akin to a bad, abusive relationship. I endured
intense criticism, intimidation, and punishment. Yet, at
times, there was fun, pleasure, and celebration. The
combination strengthened a traumatic bond, a relationship
that is not logical. Dutton and Painter (1981) have defined
traumatic bonding as “strong emotional ties that develop
between two persons where one person intermittently
harasses, beats, threatens, abuses, or intimidates the other”
(in Kurst-Swanger &Petcosky, 2003, p. 37). The combination
of intense kindness and pain was confusing. I simply went
into survival mode.
As young women, we were caught up with the church’s
promises in particular, the romantic notion of marriage.
Weddings were heady, hypnotic experiences in the True
Church. The couple was following “God’s plan” and starting
an “awesome family.”
Of note, the True Church was very interested in our sex
lives. We were celibate until marriage. When dating “steady,”
mature Christians would hold hands and kiss each other on
the mouth at the door. “Disciplers” continually asked us if
we had fallen into lustful thoughts or masturbation. I was
present when a male leader asked my roommate if she did
the latter, and if she used pencils or buttons. This voyeurism
was disguised as practice known as “getting to the root of
the sin.” It also stripped us of any personal, protective
boundaries, so that we were more open to their words.
Words shaped our very existence.
After spending 5 years in the church, I slowly began to
listen to other voices. A report about the True Church from
a reputable newspaper shook me to the core. The church
dismissed these accounts as “persecution” and “spiritual
pornography.” I am still grateful to that reporter. Despite
the church’s attempts to neutralize the damage, the seeds
of doubt had been planted.
I began to spend time with friends outside of the church.
Most of them believed that I was in a bad environment
and were happy to assist me. I began to look more
critically at my leaders.
Then, a few weeks after my 24th birthday, I left. Like a
woman leaving an abusive marriage, with no outside
friends or a bank account filled with money, I planned my
escape. I sought advice from a mainline church leader, who
encouraged me to get out of my living situation as quickly
as possible. I stopped giving as much money to the church.
I got back in touch with my family and friends on the
outside. I had always maintained these relationships, but
on a more superficial level. The goal had been to eventually
convert these people. Therefore, they only knew a fake,
happy individual who popped into their lives now and then.
I was lucky. My father supported my move financially and
emotionally. I was young enough to begin recreating my
life. Ironically, I did not start intensely working on this piece
of my life until recently. I found a therapist who specializes
in trauma and post-traumatic stress disorder. She has been
an invaluable piece in my recovery. Through forums, I talk
with women whose friends and loved ones are still in
groups like this one.
For the most part, I have moved on with my life. I vacillate
in my spiritual beliefs. I worship in several different venues.
Yet, I feel grounded. I am pleased with the life I have created.
Still, on nights like tonight, I remember my former sisters
and the late-night talks around the 1950s chrome kitchen
table. I am burdened.
They will never leave my freed heart. ■
Reference
Kurst-Swanger, K., &Petcosky J. L. (2003). Violence in the home:
Multidisciplinary perspectives (p. 37). New York: Oxford University Press
For example, I know of a woman who had been mugged on
the subway on her way to church. Frightened, she returned
home. Her more mature roommate rebuked her sternly for
not using the money in her pocket to venture on to church.
There was never an excuse for missing a church service.
When I was in True Church, I went to service on Sunday,
Wednesday evening, and Friday nights. I also attended a
Bible study, time with my “discipler,” and studies with
non-Christians. I am still astounded that I graduated from
college with all of these demands on my time. I have a lot
of intellectual curiosity, and it is painful to me that I
wasted my college years.
Don’t get me wrong: The church leaders expected us to
be excellent students, so that we could be examples to the
world. I simply couldn’t manage everything. One’s entire
True Church existence is centered on “growing” as a
Christian and bringing in as many people as possible.
We were taught how to meet people during classes, on
subways, in grocery store lines, and bring them to Bible
studies. We kept small notebooks with people’s telephone
numbers and notes about them. This process was
ultimately supposed to lead to “fruit,” or conversions.
When I was selling church, I brought in numerous visitors.
Many were baptized. I “discipled” three young sisters, but
two “fell away,” or left the church. The leaders reassigned the
other young woman to a “more challenging discipler,” who
would address her sin and doubt more aggressively. In 5
years, I rose only to assistant Bible study leader, while those
who were recruited at the same time were ministry interns
or women’s counselors. I was constantly plagued with
doubts, which were assuaged by my older sisters, women
also in the church.
People often ask me why I stayed so long. Living in the
church was akin to a bad, abusive relationship. I endured
intense criticism, intimidation, and punishment. Yet, at
times, there was fun, pleasure, and celebration. The
combination strengthened a traumatic bond, a relationship
that is not logical. Dutton and Painter (1981) have defined
traumatic bonding as “strong emotional ties that develop
between two persons where one person intermittently
harasses, beats, threatens, abuses, or intimidates the other”
(in Kurst-Swanger &Petcosky, 2003, p. 37). The combination
of intense kindness and pain was confusing. I simply went
into survival mode.
As young women, we were caught up with the church’s
promises in particular, the romantic notion of marriage.
Weddings were heady, hypnotic experiences in the True
Church. The couple was following “God’s plan” and starting
an “awesome family.”
Of note, the True Church was very interested in our sex
lives. We were celibate until marriage. When dating “steady,”
mature Christians would hold hands and kiss each other on
the mouth at the door. “Disciplers” continually asked us if
we had fallen into lustful thoughts or masturbation. I was
present when a male leader asked my roommate if she did
the latter, and if she used pencils or buttons. This voyeurism
was disguised as practice known as “getting to the root of
the sin.” It also stripped us of any personal, protective
boundaries, so that we were more open to their words.
Words shaped our very existence.
After spending 5 years in the church, I slowly began to
listen to other voices. A report about the True Church from
a reputable newspaper shook me to the core. The church
dismissed these accounts as “persecution” and “spiritual
pornography.” I am still grateful to that reporter. Despite
the church’s attempts to neutralize the damage, the seeds
of doubt had been planted.
I began to spend time with friends outside of the church.
Most of them believed that I was in a bad environment
and were happy to assist me. I began to look more
critically at my leaders.
Then, a few weeks after my 24th birthday, I left. Like a
woman leaving an abusive marriage, with no outside
friends or a bank account filled with money, I planned my
escape. I sought advice from a mainline church leader, who
encouraged me to get out of my living situation as quickly
as possible. I stopped giving as much money to the church.
I got back in touch with my family and friends on the
outside. I had always maintained these relationships, but
on a more superficial level. The goal had been to eventually
convert these people. Therefore, they only knew a fake,
happy individual who popped into their lives now and then.
I was lucky. My father supported my move financially and
emotionally. I was young enough to begin recreating my
life. Ironically, I did not start intensely working on this piece
of my life until recently. I found a therapist who specializes
in trauma and post-traumatic stress disorder. She has been
an invaluable piece in my recovery. Through forums, I talk
with women whose friends and loved ones are still in
groups like this one.
For the most part, I have moved on with my life. I vacillate
in my spiritual beliefs. I worship in several different venues.
Yet, I feel grounded. I am pleased with the life I have created.
Still, on nights like tonight, I remember my former sisters
and the late-night talks around the 1950s chrome kitchen
table. I am burdened.
They will never leave my freed heart. ■
Reference
Kurst-Swanger, K., &Petcosky J. L. (2003). Violence in the home:
Multidisciplinary perspectives (p. 37). New York: Oxford University Press
