Someone is in trouble that I grew up with, I wrote this letter to the judge. They couldn’t find the name of my church on the internet. So, in their defense I will finally say the church’s name. Which I haven’t been able to really speak… ever. This is the letter I wrote.
Honorable ________________,
My name is ME, I am writing on the behalf of ****. I am now 35 years old, and I was born in the same church that **** was. I was excommunicated and disowned from the church and my family when I was 17, in 1992. I floundered personally when I left, since I had no skills in how to be in the world outside of Terebinth Fellowship. I entered the tech industry when I was 20 and started a technical consulting firm when I was 27; which won the “Small Business of the Year Award” from the ************ Chamber of Commerce and I was bought out last year. I am now an operational consultant for other small businesses. While I have enjoyed professional success, I have personally struggled from the emotional, physical, sexual and spiritual abuse that every member of that congregation suffered. I hope to give you a brief account so that you can have some background of the environment in which **** and I grew up.
It is my belief that Terebinth Fellowship can be categorized as a cult as it was a denomination based on the Shepherding movement. The leader, C.H. and his group of elders (called the “Shepherds”) controlled the communication, finances, food, family discipline, and external contact of the membership.
As I remember it, the adult members were pressured to sign a covenant saying that they couldn’t leave. Most of the children only had contact within the congregation. We went to school at the church. Though **** is a few years younger than me and in a younger class, we did share some classes together.
In our church, there were 40 families and each man had permission to physically punish a child whenever he felt it was appropriate. They used oak rods, PVC pipes, belts and their hands. They also used isolation, public humiliation, and forced confession. The social structure encouraged the women (who wore head coverings and were required to submit to the men) to jockey for social position by informing the church leadership of “wrongs” committed by the children. When a child was considered to be out of hand, needed to be controlled, and the systematic physical punishment was not satisfactory the elders had other methods to bring us back in line. The way we grew up, every man was an abuser and every woman a betrayer.
The parents were punished and chastised when they tried to protect their children from the elders. They were being told that what we were going through was “momentary light affliction” and to think about the good of our soul. In my opinion, our parents were pressured to hand over the decision making for their families to the church leadership.
We had a church school. School discipline was tough. My cult school handled it like this: misbehaving, or missing questions on assignments sent students to the pastor’s office or alternately discipline was handled in front of the class. The pastor or teacher would then pull out his PVC pipe, which he kept in the back of his shirt down the back. He would hit the students on the buttocks or the palm as many times as God told him were appropriate, but he wouldn’t stop until we were broken down and cried. Then the teacher would send home a note detailing our grievances. There would be a checkmark on bottom of the note for each time you had been struck that day. The family would have to strike the child for each check mark on the note had and then sign it. The child would bring the notes back the next day, or face punishment again. Some families had formulas to deal with the notes for example, the child would get struck three times for every check they brought home due to the shame they’ve inflicted on the family.
From an early age our actions were over-sexualized; we were often told that we were engaging in perversions. Any look, glance, conversation or affection was questioned, creating paranoia and hyper vigilance. My most memorable interaction with **** was when we were having a conversation and some people believed that we had a crush on each other. We were both badgered until we confessed. There was no chemistry between us, but to appease the imagination of the elders and end the assault we said what was necessary to make them stop. **** was sweet and quiet, I remember him frequently being singled out from the group. He was frequently confronted about his sexuality. Whether or not he is homosexual, ever since he was a child he was told that he was and forced to confess boys that he had crushes on whether or not it was the truth.
At least seven times in my life the elders decided a “deliverance” was necessary to bring me back in line with church doctrine and submission. A “deliverance” is an exorcism; I know **** had several as well. The elders of the church, along with a few others if necessary, anointed our heads with olive oil and prayed in tongues and laid hands on us while waiting for the Holy Spirits direction on which demons or spirits needed to be cast out. I noticed that with the onset of puberty and hormones the deliverances became more necessary. I think this was because people in transition upset the expectation of the way things should be. The demons were believed to have left the body if something came out of you. Tears were easy, so there was a lot of crying. It’s easy to cry when you are 12 and there are people touching you and yelling at you in a spirit language while your head is greasy from all of the anointing. But demons also can come out through a yell, a burp, a cough, sneeze or by passing gas.
We also had our winter “retreat”. Three days of freezing in cabins in the snow, fasting and prayer. Until age 11 I was allowed three pieces of bread and three pieces of fruit a day while there. Normally church service would be about ten or more hours a week, but at the retreat it would be up to 16 hours a day. After three essentially foodless days in the snow there was a monstrous, celebratory binge.
Consumption was another aspect of life that was constantly monitored. Once a week, since I was little we wouldn’t eat for an entire day – until dinner. Then we would binge at dinner. As a direct result, I have poor impulse control over food and drink. Even though, I know it’s irrational, I am terrified that I’m going to starve to death. So much of that fear traces back to the mandated fasting and subsequent binging.
Never knowing what to say, do, think or feel nourished the paranoia and hyper-vigilance. Though, I dreaded random pain or consequence, there were also random rewards. Our leader was brilliant and charismatic and when he shined his light on you it was hypnotic and I felt the warmth of inclusion and acceptance. When you were in his good graces everyone in the community behaved in the same way and I was favored and fearful only of when it would end. When you were on his bad side even your good deeds didn’t matter because fault was found with your motivation or spiritual foundation. This has left me hyper-vigilant. I am afraid to relax. So, when I get downtime eating or drinking calms the voices that tell me that once I relax I will get in trouble, yelled at or punished.
Personally, I have been diagnosed with chronic Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, some experts saying it is as bad as that of some prisoners of war. Growing up in an atmosphere where I was not allowed to have any boundaries, physical or emotional and at the same time holding the belief that everyone in the community had my best interests at heart, while they are actively harming me taught me to expect pain and trauma from the people who have my best interests at heart. Or that everyone in your community has my best interests at heart, a belief which doesn’t work in the outside world. Post traumatic stress disorder, for me, has manifested through an eating disorder, and alcohol abused to numb chronic panic and paranoia. Growing up in a fabricated society didn’t provide us the tools necessary to survive in a world that isn’t absolutely controlled.
Circumstances like these isolate the individual and teach them they aren’t enough. They come to believe that they “are” the problem. If they could be different everything would be ok. The problem is internalized, guilt and shame flourish. These lessons have infused other areas of my life and replicated the abusive system internally, much to my own pain and detriment. “If only I could get over this (core personality feature) then I would be ok. I could be happy. Everything was always black or white, no room for shades of grey.
Though I have not maintained contact with **** and have little knowledge of his current circumstances; I know that as a child, **** survived tremendous abuse on all levels that only those who lived through Terebinth Fellowship understand. He was not given the tools he needed to be an emotionally healthy person in this society. I know because I still struggle every day.
Thank you for your time.
Respectfully,
Look at that sweet little mug
Each one is as distinctive and unique as the beautiful person sending it (uh, even if that beautiful person is pissed off at me. Hah.).