Chapter 9: Confessions of a Former Pew Jumper

True life: I was one of those crazy Charismatics! Here I write about the uniqueness of the Pentecostal experience and how to move past the experience.

 

 

This chapter is written for ex-Pentecostals/Charismatics. I realize this chapter won’t be relevant to everyone, so for the benefit of the reader, I’ve written a little quiz that will help you determine whether or not you are a true holy roller. Give yourself one point for every statement you can affirm as “true.”

 

1.      I know where Azusa Street is and why it is significant

2.      I have either attended the Brownsville revival or I have seen a tape of it.

3.      I know that a “Holy Ghost Carwash” has nothing to do with soap and water.

4.      I know what a “Jericho March” is.

5.      I am skilled in both praying with my eyes open and praying out loud while a hundred other people pray out loud at varying speeds.

6.      I have been in a church service that lasted longer than four hours.

7.      I know why there are stacks of towels on the church platform.

 

 

If you answered yes to ANY of the above statements, this chapter is for you. If that list totally confused you, this chapter will give you a break from serious subject matter and you can be entertained for a few pages.

If you’ve never been to a Pentecostal revival meeting (or youth camp) you have missed one of the most interesting combinations of religion and emotion you could ever see in one night.

Usually, but not always, it’s like a three-ring circus. There are so many things going on at once that you may not know where to look first. In one corner, a woman might be face down on the floor screaming her lungs out, down in front, someone is dancing in a wild, scorpions-in-your-pants fashion, and a preacher is screaming at a line of people, pushing them down to the floor one by one. On stage, whatever musicians are present are playing a song about the Holy Ghost that they have repeated 35 times.Welcome to my childhood. I thought this was normal.

 

 Being manhandled by 250lb preachers who screamed their prayers as if God were hard of hearing was a run-of-the-mill church ritual. We figured the louder and faster someone prayed, the more ”anointed” it was. How “good” a service was depended on whether total chaos broke out or not. If you are picking up hairpins and other accessories up off the floor when it’s over, it’s a 5-star service.

I remember hearing old-timers reminisce about the days when “moves of God” were even more played up than they are now. My ex-pastor told the story of when he was a kid in a Pentecostal church. During a Sunday night service, the pastor locked the back doors and said no one was going home until there was a move of God. I don’t remember how the story ended, but I have a hunch that moves of God probably started happening real fast.

 

Being the on-fire-for-Jesus, Assemblies of God girl I was, I was almost always down front getting prayed for by big, loud, crazy preachers. One thing guest preachers did frequently while visiting our church was interact with us, the congregation. Prophesying was one way they did that.

Hearing from God was something special, so when someone claimed to have a “word from God”, everyone sat up and listened, hanging on every word. The more “words from God” an evangelist had, the more spiritual he was thought to be. Guest evangelists would sometimes point out certain parishioners (yes, in front of everyone) and tell them God had something to say directly to them. Then they would go on to predict the future or tell the person something about his/her personal life. For whatever reason, this happened to me many times.

 

By the time I finished high school, various preachers predicted that I would have an anointing like Smith Wigglesworth, a ministry like Rita Springer, become a missionary and some other vague predictions about aspiring to greatness. Perhaps the funniest time was when, with no warning, a preacher dumped a whole bottle of extra-virgin olive oil on my head while he said something that I do not remember. When I got home, my mom asked me if a bird had pooped on my head. Needless to say, I showered before the evening service. One thing I can say with confidence about my charismatic upbringing is that it was never boring.

 

Humor aside, having prophecies spoken to me at such a young age put quite a burden on me to make sure they were fulfilled. From age twelve on, I felt that God had “called” me to full-time ministry. For a while it was cool being the “special kid”, but after my time at CU I just wanted to be normal. Having a normal life with no earth-shattering expectations placed upon me (by myself or anyone else) seemed ideal.

 

One day, after leaving CU and taking my shattered faith with me, I was driving down the road thinking about the prophecies for my life. At that point, I had been so burned by Christianity that I no longer felt guilty about not being in ministry. It was my life and I would not let the former expectations of myself or anyone else direct my future. I heard myself say out loud “Screw the prophecies. Screw the prophecies!” and I started laughing at myself. I laughed because I was so happy to finally be free to do whatever I wanted.  It was a drastic change from my former plans, but I say, when your dreams don’t fit anymore, find a new one and don’t feel guilty about it!

 

Some of you are ex-Pentecostals and you know what I’m talking about. Maybe you too and been prophesied to do great things for God and now you feel guilty for changing your plans. I know it’s embarrassing to go from being a gung-ho missionary to checking out of the ministry world altogether, but don’t let embarrassment stop you from doing what you truly want to do. I stayed with my focus on children and switched from a Children’s Ministry degree to an Elementary Education degree and I am a very happy aspiring teacher! When I was transferring colleges and didn’t know what to major in, my Dad gave me this piece of advice: “Find something you like to do that pays the bills. You don’t want to get up every day and dread going to work.” After spending one school year in the classroom, I know that I can do this and be excited about gong to work every day.

 

 It is your life and no one can live it but you-so get out there and start doing what makes you happy!

 

Emotional Manipulation

 

You know how it goes. All we ex-Pentecostals do.

Loud, emotional music + peer pressure = doing things you may not remember-or for that matter, want to remember- in the morning. I’m not talking about getting drunk at a party or using drugs at a rock concert. No, I’m talking about “manifestations of the Spirit.” Dancing wildly, running around, screaming, crying, doing back flips (oh yes, it happened at my church camp), speaking in tongues, et cetera.

In my eleven years of church camp plus all the youth rallies and meetings in between, I accumulated enough crazy stories to entertain people for the rest of my life.

Sometimes while it was going on I got the feeling we were being manipulated, but to say that out loud meant being labeled at a “skeptic”, which is not at all tolerated in those types of situations, so I didn’t say anything. Now that I’m a grown-up, I am disgusted at the way young people like me were manipulated by our leaders into doing whatever made them look more spiritual.

“Pray louder!”, we were told, so we prayed louder. “Lift your hands!” “Speak in tongues!” “Scream like a banshee!” (ok, that last on was made up, but it could have happened!) The commands were endless. I remember at one youth camp we had a teaching session every morning, and without fail, every morning our speaker told us to raise both hands in the air and say “Jesus, I love you” until our volume convinced him that we really did love Jesus. When I picture 500 of us students obeying these commands without thinking, I am reminded of the movie iRobot, and that freaks me out.

I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with instilling a sense of right and wrong in children. As a teacher, I do believe that it is our duty to help kids learn to make good choices and treat each other with respect to become responsible adults. However, the level of programming that we ex-Pentecostals experienced went beyond reasonable and into the realm of sci-fi movie of the week.

 

So, now that we have left the Pentecostal influence, what do we do with these memories? I’m just thankful that most of my antics were not caught on tape, so there’s no permanent record. But still, the memories hurt.

When I first started my journey away from the faith, I was so incredibly ashamed of my past that it was overwhelming. “How could I let myself be manipulated like that?” I asked. “Why didn’t I realize this before?” “My god! I was psycho, wasn’t I?” After going through my period of shame and anger, I came to a place where I just accepted my past.

Yes, it happened. I let myself be manipulated for too long and I even encouraged others to go along with it. I did some crazy stuff. But I know I’m not the same person now as I was back then. Everyone has something in his past he is ashamed of, and this just happens to be mine. I can live in shame and regret and hate myself, or I can forgive myself and move on with my life.

I am choosing to forgive myself and move on. I hope you will soon be able to do the same.

Pentecostal experience should be something we can list on a resume! Think of all the unusual talents we have!

Skills I acquired as a result of being Pentecostal:

1.      I can make up a gospel song on the spot and drag it out for 20-30 minutes. Years of singing black gospel songs in a choir taught me this.

2.      I can concentrate in the midst of total chaos.

3.      I do a great revival preacher impersonation. (Let the church say “Yeah!”)

4.      I can find the book of Acts with my eyes closed.[1]

5.      I will do practically anything in public. (Hey, what could I have possibly not already done?)

 

Answers to the Pentecostal Quiz:

1.                          Azusa Street is in Los Angeles. This location is where the American Charismatic movement is said to have started.

2.                          Brownsville Assembly of God is a church in Florida that experienced “revival” for about five years straight when I was a teenager. It was like a Pentecostal Mecca. People traveled there from all over the world to see it. I never went, but I saw a tape.

3.                          A “Holy Ghost Carwash” is where a bunch of people stand in two lines facing each other to form a tunnel, then other people walk through while the people forming the tunnel pray for them. I cannot overemphasize how dramatic it is. It’s not unusual for people to pass out at the end of the tunnel.

4.                          A Jericho March is just what it sounds like. People form a line and march around a location, like a church, or a house, or a city. The purpose is to claim that ground for God

5.                          It takes an insane amount of focus to concentrate on praying while surrounded by a hundred other people praying aloud at varying volumes and in different languages, plus loud music, plus making sure you don’t get kicked or stepped on.

6.                          This is more typical for a special event, like a camp meeting or revival. Of course not all services last that long, but it’s always smart to pack a lunch just in case.

7.                          You non-Pentecostals are going to think I’m making this up, but I swear I’m not! A lot of Charismatic-type churches keep a stack of towels or sheets on the platform to cover people when they pass out (or to be correct “Are slain in the spirit”) Think about the fact that most women will be wearing skirts and it’s hard to be ladylike while you’re falling on the floor.

 

 

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[1] Any good ‘costal can do this.