When Thoughts of God Aren't Peaceful (Part One... for Now)
It's not God's fault. It's not His fault that growing up, I came to fear Him. I wanted to feel peace when I thought of God, but I didn't.
As many kids, I grew up with the idea, "Jesus isn't happy when you do that." That idea was balanced with "Jesus loves you" and "God is love." But when I became a teenager, the balance wasn't always there. My mom grew up in a Pentecostal church. Even though she (we) did not attend church regularly during my teen years, she always said that she had always been a Pentecostal and always would be. And real Pentecostals are not like the ones on TV or even the ones in most Pentecostal churches. They cut their hair and wore tons of make-up. That is not what a true Pentecostal does. True Pentecostals do none of that. They also do not go to movies or wear pants or jewelry or dance. The older I got, the more many of these teachings were emphasized not just in words, but in action. For instance, make-up was never allowed in my mother's house. Pants were okay, because my mom never considered herself a "good Pentecostal." She wore them. Music was if-y. I could listen to county music, but she made her disapproval very clear. My taste favoring the newer county music was the source of many, many fights - screaming matches, really. (I never understood why Hank Williams was okay, but Garth Brooks was not). Movies were okay as long as they were older movies. New movies, were, after all, garbage. Jewelry was allowed. My mom never wore jewelry. She always said she never liked it. But I think the reason she allowed jewelry was that her own mom loved jewelry. She talked about it often. I never knew my mom's mom. She died before I was born.
There were lots of teachings. The one that will probably always stand out in my mind (other than the ones from my mom) came from a Bible teacher. The teaching was on rebellion. It's as the sin of witchcraft. His words still ring in my ears. "Sometimes God will begin taking away things He has given if His child acts in rebellion. As a last resort, He will take His child to stop that rebellion. Write that down." I did, which was probably a mistake. I tend to retain more when I write the information down. Back then, I was an extensive note taker.
The love of my life back then was my dog. She was a very small what was supposed to have been a Pekingese. But she never looked like one. We always thought the kennel we got her (and her brother and her cousin) from lied to get more money. Oh, but she was adorable. She was white with brown spots and a pugged nose. She followed me everywhere. She was truly my first baby. She always slept on the back of my legs.
The one thing I feared the most was losing her - either through her actually getting lost (another, totally different post) or getting sick and dying. Being a pampered, toy-size dog, she used to get stomach aches pretty frequently. They usually did not last not. A day or so, then she was back to normal. When she began not eating, even our frequent trips to the vet did not satisfy what I was going through psychologically.
How do I know I haven't done something to offend God? Maybe He's punishing me.
I remember going through, thinking of everything I could have done that would have been rebelling. I always came back to the music, because that was such a big source of anguish. I must have been wrong. So I would stop listening to the radio. And maybe the jewelry. Especially my class ring. I always loved the ring, but it was bigger than the rest of my jewelry. (My mom always wanted me to wear small, dainty jewelry). That had to have been it, too. So I took it off. I would pray and try to focus. But then the lack of peace from just knowing God was punishing me for something I had done wrong and the fear that it could be something worse than a stomach ache caused me to lose my focus. How do I know God hears my prayers? Am I even praying to God? Maybe the devil has me, and I don't know it.
On and on and on these would go. Until she started feeling better. And I did, too. Then there would be another "teaching," another "argument," another "stomach ache." And the process would begin all over again.
I would like to say that this type of compulsion ended when I grew up. Maybe I never grew up. I do believe that is part of the problem. Now, at thirty-nine, I often feel that I am in my early twenties, just now making new discoveries. But even now, I struggle with these teachings I have heard, with what so many times seem to be uncontrollable thoughts and worries and compulsions. I recently learned a term for this type of condition. It's a religious OCD called scrupulosity. It's a relief to know there is such a thing, that others have had similar experiences.
What I have written ear is not even the tip of the iceberg of my struggles. In time, I will share more. This is just the beginning.
As many kids, I grew up with the idea, "Jesus isn't happy when you do that." That idea was balanced with "Jesus loves you" and "God is love." But when I became a teenager, the balance wasn't always there. My mom grew up in a Pentecostal church. Even though she (we) did not attend church regularly during my teen years, she always said that she had always been a Pentecostal and always would be. And real Pentecostals are not like the ones on TV or even the ones in most Pentecostal churches. They cut their hair and wore tons of make-up. That is not what a true Pentecostal does. True Pentecostals do none of that. They also do not go to movies or wear pants or jewelry or dance. The older I got, the more many of these teachings were emphasized not just in words, but in action. For instance, make-up was never allowed in my mother's house. Pants were okay, because my mom never considered herself a "good Pentecostal." She wore them. Music was if-y. I could listen to county music, but she made her disapproval very clear. My taste favoring the newer county music was the source of many, many fights - screaming matches, really. (I never understood why Hank Williams was okay, but Garth Brooks was not). Movies were okay as long as they were older movies. New movies, were, after all, garbage. Jewelry was allowed. My mom never wore jewelry. She always said she never liked it. But I think the reason she allowed jewelry was that her own mom loved jewelry. She talked about it often. I never knew my mom's mom. She died before I was born.
There were lots of teachings. The one that will probably always stand out in my mind (other than the ones from my mom) came from a Bible teacher. The teaching was on rebellion. It's as the sin of witchcraft. His words still ring in my ears. "Sometimes God will begin taking away things He has given if His child acts in rebellion. As a last resort, He will take His child to stop that rebellion. Write that down." I did, which was probably a mistake. I tend to retain more when I write the information down. Back then, I was an extensive note taker.
The love of my life back then was my dog. She was a very small what was supposed to have been a Pekingese. But she never looked like one. We always thought the kennel we got her (and her brother and her cousin) from lied to get more money. Oh, but she was adorable. She was white with brown spots and a pugged nose. She followed me everywhere. She was truly my first baby. She always slept on the back of my legs.
The one thing I feared the most was losing her - either through her actually getting lost (another, totally different post) or getting sick and dying. Being a pampered, toy-size dog, she used to get stomach aches pretty frequently. They usually did not last not. A day or so, then she was back to normal. When she began not eating, even our frequent trips to the vet did not satisfy what I was going through psychologically.
How do I know I haven't done something to offend God? Maybe He's punishing me.
I remember going through, thinking of everything I could have done that would have been rebelling. I always came back to the music, because that was such a big source of anguish. I must have been wrong. So I would stop listening to the radio. And maybe the jewelry. Especially my class ring. I always loved the ring, but it was bigger than the rest of my jewelry. (My mom always wanted me to wear small, dainty jewelry). That had to have been it, too. So I took it off. I would pray and try to focus. But then the lack of peace from just knowing God was punishing me for something I had done wrong and the fear that it could be something worse than a stomach ache caused me to lose my focus. How do I know God hears my prayers? Am I even praying to God? Maybe the devil has me, and I don't know it.
On and on and on these would go. Until she started feeling better. And I did, too. Then there would be another "teaching," another "argument," another "stomach ache." And the process would begin all over again.
I would like to say that this type of compulsion ended when I grew up. Maybe I never grew up. I do believe that is part of the problem. Now, at thirty-nine, I often feel that I am in my early twenties, just now making new discoveries. But even now, I struggle with these teachings I have heard, with what so many times seem to be uncontrollable thoughts and worries and compulsions. I recently learned a term for this type of condition. It's a religious OCD called scrupulosity. It's a relief to know there is such a thing, that others have had similar experiences.
What I have written ear is not even the tip of the iceberg of my struggles. In time, I will share more. This is just the beginning.
Comments
Post a Comment