Reprimand # 2

The next few months were a whirlwind of activity. Things were going ok in my marriage, I was working a new job, volunteering for even more ministries in the church, and in December of 2005 I went on a Mission Trip to Trinidad and Tobago. Right before going on this trip, I was again pulled into the office to be reprimanded. This time, it was about my tithes and offerings.
The Pastor, months prior, had made a policy that those who wanted to go on a mission trip were required to give offerings, above and beyond their tithe, to the missions fund at least once monthly. When the announcement was made at a missions meeting, I thought nothing of it. My experience had always been, with previous churches, that an established amount or percentage of each person’s tithe and offering would be automatically be placed into appropriate accounts according to how they set up their church. My assumption was that a portion of my tithe automatically went into the mission’s fund. Because of my assumption, I would give an additional offering every month but not specifically designate it towards the mission’s fund.
So yet again, I was sitting in an office ashamed, crying and sorrowful. I was told if they hadn’t straightened this out with me I would not have been going on the next mission trip. This was not the last reprimand or meeting that I would have to endure about tithes and offerings while I attended that church. It quickly became a recurring theme.

The First Red Flag

Things quickly changed for me. God totally restored my marriage and my husband started attending church with me. Within a few months of me being at the church I was invited onto the praise team and I was flourishing there. I was making friends. I was volunteering at the church and I was generally involved in almost every ministry there was at the church. Things genuinely seemed good until certain red flags started popping up.
One particular Sunday, after worship team practice, the Pastor’s wife pulled me into one of the offices and began to reprimand me for not honoring her husband, the Pastor. I was completely shocked and mortified. I had no clue what I had done wrong. I genuinely cared about these people and the last thing that I ever wanted to do was hurt or dishonor them. The Pastor’s wife explained to me, as I cried, how dishonorable it was for me to call her husband by his first name and not by the title of Pastor. She explained to me that in my short time at the church that her husband considered me to be like a daughter and as a daughter I should honor him by using his proper title. She demanded that I call him “Pastor”.
Never in my life had I ever just called a Pastor, “Pastor”. With more formal men, who I did not know personally, I would call them Pastor Jones, and if I knew them a little bit more intimately it would be Pastor John. The closer I was in relationship to a Pastor the more lax the title. With some of my old Pastors, I was on a first name basis with them. Of course, out of respect when speaking to someone else I would use their title, but in reality titles never meant much to me. In reality, titles never meant much to my old Pastors either.
I remember sitting there in that office so completely ashamed and humiliated. I was so completely distraught that I couldn’t even sing that morning. I sat there in the congregation, engulfed in my shame, instead of helping to lead worship that morning. Everyone could see I was upset and kept asking me what was wrong. After the service I went to this Pastor and I apologized for not meaning to dishonor him, and his response was that it wasn’t about the title, but it was about the place of authority that I allowed him to be in my life. If I allowed him to be my Pastor, I would be teachable and God could use me.
I called him “Pastor” that day. I cannot forget the look of pride that came over his face as I said it. That day the lasso of control dropped over my head and the rope began to tighten.

In the Beginning

I’m not really sure where I should start. It seems like such a long time ago, but in reality it isn’t.
Maybe I’ll start by saying this...the church that I was abused at was a Word of Faith church. I’m not saying all Word of Faith churches are abusive, but out my circle of friends every Word of Faith church that I’ve attended or they have attended has been abusive in some way. Out of eight Word of Faith churches that I or my friends have personal experience with only one would be deemed healthy and that church is run by Tim Gilligan in Ocala. Even Tim Gilligan has distanced his church from the Word of Faith because of the stigma of abuse that seems to run rampant in Word of Faith churches.
That being said…This is my story.
I started attending this particular Word of Faith church in July of 2004. I was a broken woman when I started going there. I felt led to go there that particular Sunday because where I had been going prior just felt like it held nothing for me and I just could not face the looks of pity when I walked into my old church and told the ladies there that my husband had asked me for a divorce.
When I walked into this new church, it seemed really put together. They sang great contemporary songs that I knew and I could feel the presence of God during the music. I don’t particularly remember much about the preaching, but during those early days there was a recurring theme of praying the Word of God which was exactly what I needed at that time and God knew it.
The church was only about 15 months old when I started attending and in the beginning things did not seem too bad. It was a great church until you got under surface…

Where I've come from and how I walked away from Spiritual Abuse

Over the next few months I feel impressed upon that it is time that I tell my story. Some may not like what I have to say as it may convict their hearts, but I will only ever tell the truth.
The purpose is not to name names or cause strife, but to expose the truth in hopes that my story will inspire others to walk away from authoritarian, abusive church systems like I did.
I was a spiritual leader, a music pastor, in one of those such churches.

Why did I walk away? What was so authoritarian and abusive at the church where I was at?

The Pastor, instead of a loving shepherd leading the flock with love and compassion, was a spiritual cowboy who prodded his sheep like cattle, and I was his cowboy in training, until I walked away. He wore twin spurs of condemnation and guilt on his heels and had a lasso of performance that entwined you with a false sense of obligation in his hand.
I am here to admit my failings for following the cowboys and striving to be like them instead of striving to be like the Great Shepherd. When God tore the blinders off my eyes, I rose up, tossed away my spurs and lasso and said no more! I'm committed to my Shepherd and to His flock. I follow His voice and no other. I will tend to His sheep and His sheep need to know the truth about Spiritual Abuse. So here is my story...