What Do I Do Now?

After hanging up the phone with my cousin, I felt a sense of relief, almost like the weight of the world was pulled off of my shoulders. Along with the relief, I felt some terror too, because I had left once before and knew I didn't like the "world" as I had known it. It was big, full of things I'd never done before, things I've never seen, or even heard of.

I want to remind you of a few things. First off, I had never dated, I had barely watched TV, hadn't been to any types of theme parks, never been to a movie, hadn't cut my hair since I was 5 years old, hadn't worn anything besides dresses since age 6, never had a drink of alcohol, or anything that "normal" people had done. I was 21 years old now and trust me, leaving everything I knew and loved was extremely stressful, nerve wracking, and I felt quite like a fish out of water.

Later that morning, after making the final call to my cousin, I went out and told my parents of my decision to leave. The relief in their faces was priceless. The tears flowed, the hugs were plentiful and then the discussions on what I would do with my life commenced. My dad had a friend in Dallas, Texas whose children had attended Christ for the Nations. He suggested we look into me going to that college, as it might be a great stepping stone for me to take, while I got over the craziness of leaving. It was already early June and the summer semester was beginning in just a few short days. So I got the application, filled it out, then faxed it to the Dean of Women at CFNI. Within a few hours, I got a call from her and she asked me a few questions about my relationship with God, what my heart was for serving God and a few other questions. The next day, I got the call saying I was accepted and that I needed to check in the following day!

I packed up my stuff into a couple of bins and the next morning, my parents and I took the drive to Dallas to get me settled in.

During all of this, I think the excitement helped surpress the feelings of sadness and hurt of leaving once again. It hadn't really settled in yet, what had just happened. I remember telling myself that I didn't want to think about it. I knew, that by thinking about it, I would just become depressed, sad and focus on my situation, instead of enjoying the journey. Unfortunately, as you will see in the coming blog posts, that resolve didn't last long. But for now, I was determined to just enjoy CFNI and find some new friends.

I checked into my room, and my room mates began to arrive too. There were four of us packed like little sardines into a one bedroom apartment. We had a couch, a desk, one chair, and the teeniest bedroom ever, with bunk beds. All this was so new and unusual to me! I had no clue what to expect from college, or these girls. They seemed so comfortable in this new environment. I was shy, quiet and withdrawn. As more girls started to arrive and filled the adjoining apartments, I began to make a few friends, but for the most part, I found myself observing people. Looking back now, I realize I must've made some people really uncomfortable. But everyone was SO interesting! Everyone was dressed different. Girls had short hair, wore pants and put make-up on their faces. My room mates looked like one person in the early mornings, and by the time they were done with makeup and stylish clothes, they looked like models. I didn't have make-up, my hair was to my mid shin, I only had skirts and tops I'd worn in my old community. My parents had given me money to go shopping for clothes, but every time I tried on pants, I felt uncomfortable and awkward. So when I would go shopping, I'd always look for long skirts. I think the shortest skirt I wore during this time was slightly below my knees.

My sweet roommate, Lynn offered to straighten my hair and teach me a little bit about putting make up on. My Mom had bought me some Bare Essentials Mineral make-up to try. I was excited and wanted to learn. So we spent an evening learning make-up and she made me feel pretty! After getting my hair straightened, she asked me if I wanted to go to Wal-Mart and get it cut. I was nervous and scared. I'd been taught by the community that cutting my hair would be against God an that I would go to hell. I kept putting it off, but finally, after about a month, I decided to go. Lynn went with me and I walked into the salon with shaking knees, literally. The lady who was there to cut my hair just couldn't get over how long it was and kept asking me why I had it so long and wanted to know my whole story. I've always felt awkward telling my story, because, for the most part, the response I get isn't a good one. But this lady was fascinated. I spent an hour sharing with her about my old life. She was excited to be apart of my story and cutting my hair for the first time since I was 5 years old!  She took me back to the hair washing area and washed my hair. She said my hair was the longest she'd ever seen and had to take a picture before cutting it. Then she took me to the hair cutting area, which was right in front of a long line of windows that looked out onto the area where everyone walked into Wal-Mart to go shopping. It was a bit embarrassing, because several people (when I say several, I'm talking about 20-30 people!!!) stopped and took pictures! I didn't realize it was so unusual to have hair almost to your ankles, but I guess it was! She tied a little rubber band around my hair at waist length (our prearranged length that I wanted it cut. I was no where near ready for her to cut it any shorter than that.) Then she took the scissors and chopped it off. When she handed the ends of my hair to me, I cried. It felt like I had just cut off a part of my life and it made me feel even more scared and sad. I let her style it a bit and then I was done. I walked out of there, for the first time since I was 5 years old with short(er) hair. I called my Mom and told her what I'd done and she encouraged me that I was taking steps in the right direction. I kept asking her how on earth I could know that I wasn't going to hell because I cut my hair! It took a lot of prayer, convincing, talks and tears to come to a place of peace.

In the community, God wasn't our conscience, it was the elders, the "brothers," the leaders that were our conscience. Yes, we prayed about things, but it ultimately led to listening to them and following what they said was God. So having an actual relationship with God wasn't common. Hearing His voice and following what He said wasn't something I knew intimately. I had a lot of learning to do.

So pretty much, with everything that I did, I would think, "What would the brothers say or think? Would I get into trouble with them if I did this, or that?" It was rarely that I thought, "What does GOD think about this? What would He say? What does His word say?"

Learning to hear His voice and follow what His will for my life is has been such a challenge, because even to this day, I "hear" the brother's voices in my head. I hear what they have to say, and then I have to stop, tell myself that what they say doesn't matter. What does God say?

Something I have learned is that God loves us. He came to earth to show us the Way to Him. He left a beautiful, easy to follow example on how to get to Heaven. If it seems hard to be a Christian, then stop and read His word. Because He didn't make it hard for His children to love and follow Him. He left us a handbook called the Bible. There are a few black and white things that He said to do and to not do. Beyond that, He leaves room for us to listen to His voice and obey Him. For instance, He gave us the ten commandments.

Exodus 20

The Message (MSG)

20 ^1-2 God spoke all these words:

I am God, your God,
    who brought you out of the land of Egypt,
    out of a life of slavery.

³ No other gods, only me.

^4-6 No carved gods of any size, shape, or form of anything whatever, whether of things that fly or walk or swim. Don’t bow down to them and don’t serve them because I am God, your God, and I’m a most jealous God, punishing the children for any sins their parents pass on to them to the third, and yes, even to the fourth generation of those who hate me. But I’m unswervingly loyal to the thousands who love me and keep my commandments.

⁷ No using the name of God, your God, in curses or silly banter; God won’t put up with the irreverent use of his name.

^8-11 Observe the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Work six days and do everything you need to do. But the seventh day is a Sabbath to God, your God. Don’t do any work—not you, nor your son, nor your daughter, nor your servant, nor your maid, nor your animals, not even the foreign guest visiting in your town. For in six days God made Heaven, Earth, and sea, and everything in them; he rested on the seventh day. Therefore God blessed the Sabbath day; he set it apart as a holy day.

¹² Honor your father and mother so that you’ll live a long time in the land that God, your God, is giving you.

¹³ No murder.

¹⁴ No adultery.
¹⁵ No stealing.
¹⁶ No lies about your neighbor.

¹⁷ No lusting after your neighbor’s house—or wife or servant or maid or ox or donkey. Don’t set your heart on anything that is your neighbor’s.

  

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God gave us those commandments. 

But when it comes to dress, movies, houses we live in, the cars we drive, etc? He leaves room for our own convictions and what He speaks to us, personally. What He requires of one person, He may not require of you. What He speaks to you, He may not speak to your best friend.  For some people, it is ok for them to wear this type of clothing, while for you, He may speak to you to not. God calls us to listen to His voice for US, not others. What counts is that we are doing His will for us. But that takes us listening to Him. If you listen to your friend and what God has spoken to them to do, and then do it yourself, you're not necessarily doing wrong, but God might have something different for you.

So for me, it wasn't particularly wrong for me to wear dresses, never cut my hair, homeschool and live on a farm. But God had a different plan for me. He called me elsewhere. So please, if God has called you to wear dresses and your hair up, don't think I'm judging you, or saying you're not living for God. God has different things for each of us. As long as we are both following His voice for ourselves, then we are both in the perfect will of God. :)

But for me, learning to actually hear God's voice has been a challenge, because it's been so easy to rely on others to "hear" God for me. It was easy listening to others speak and just following. But God has wanted to mature me and lead me in ways I would never have dreamed of going. And part of that, (going back to what I was originally talking about and got quite side-tracked!) was getting my hair cut. It was time for me to listen to His voice and do His leading, instead of following the lead of man. 

And I would have a LOT more to learn too, in a lot more areas that I will share in a later chapter of this blog!

Going Back Continued

When we were taken out of meetings and put on what I refer to as "visitors status", where we only went to Friday night meetings on an invitation only basis, one of the things that was required was frequent meetings with the leaders of the church. There were several that my dad went to quite often when he was still attending.

When all of this began in 2005, we had just had a church switcharoo where the groups were told about 12 different small groups they could be apart of, and advised to pray about which one they were supposed to go to. We had prayed and joined a group. That is when things sort of went down hill. My Dad had been talking with our original pastor for years about his differences in beliefs, but I think that pastor was willing to keep working with him and helping him "see the light" of "truth." When we joined this other group, my Dad shared with them what his struggles were and his differences of beliefs, and I think it sorta freaked them out. So within a few weeks, we were "disassociated" from the church and stuck on visitors status. I know I am back tracking here, but I want to lay the foundation for where I am going next with my narrative. When the disassociation began, they told my family and me that it would be a "week, maybe two" that we would be out of meetings and participation of church activities. Those weeks turned into months and those months turned into years.

When my Dad left, the leaders of the church started meeting with my Mom on a frequent basis and talking to her on the phone. It kept being reiterated to her that she needed to have the "faith of Sister Andy." We honestly had no clue what this phrase was supposed to mean, and my Mom would ask them what that meant. There was a sweet lady in the church whose name was Andy and she had left her family and husband to be apart of this church. But we didn't know this at the time. No one told us a thing. So when they would say this, my Mom would be confused and they would tell her to search after the heart of God and then she would know what that meant. To this day, we still don't know what "have the faith of Sister Andy" was really supposed to mean. The only thing we can gather from it is that they wanted her to leave her husband to do what the brothers (pastors/elders) of the church wanted. Being married to an imposter (even though in reality, my Dad was following God a lot closer than we were at the time) was inexcusable and leaving him was her only option. But my Mom decided that being married to her husband was more important than the leaders of the church wishes. She kept questioning why they'd want her to leave him since, in the Bible, it speaks about how a believer wife should stay married to her unbeliever husband, and in quietness and meekness, win over her unbeliever. (1st Corinthians 7:13) But that didn't seem to matter to them and I wasn't in the meetings with her to know what was said, but I doubt they had scriptural back up for what they were asking her to do. It was trust them, do what they say, believe they're hearing the Voice of God, and pray until you hear the same voice they're hearing, or leave.

She chose to leave. It was heartbreaking for me at the time. I didn't know what I was going to do, but I felt my life spinning out of control and like I was loosing my best friend, my Mom!

I struggled along for a few weeks, trying to figure out what I was going to do. I was spending a lot of time with my pastors wife and sharing my heart with her. I was also invited to go to some meetings that were in town with the city church that was run by the lead pastor's son. I went to about 3 of those meetings, I think. I kept feeling more and more uncomfortable. I knew it didn't set right with me when they asked my Mom to make a choice between my Dad and the church. That's just wrong and no real Christian would ask such a thing. Or would they? I was so confused! I couldn't figure out what I believed, what I wanted or what I was supposed to do. So I put on a brave act of still pressing forward and working towards baptism. I kept thinking I'd eventually find peace. Maybe it was just because I no longer had my family in the church that was making me so uncomfortable, I thought. I kept reasoning with myself. I kept asking myself questions and going over facts of my situation.

Then one day, I made a call to my pastors wife and asked if I could come over for a bit to talk. She invited me over and I told her a lot of my struggles. I didn't know what to think or say, really. I just poured my heart out to her. I told her I was struggling with what was going on with my Mom and that I was hurting inside that she left. She tried to encourage me, but her words just spun me further into confusion and unrest. She said, "Maybe you should move into town, get away from your parents and start new. Get a job. You won't be able to talk to your parents much longer anyways, if you want to be apart of the church."

I went home and cried. I didn't know what to do. So the next day I called my other pastors wife and asked if I could set up a meeting with her and her husband. I told her I felt uncomfortable with something that was said to me, and that I needed to discuss it with them. I didn't feel comfortable talking to the pastors wife that made the original comment and I was already having struggles with the pastor and the way he was treating my mother, and myself. I had been accused of sharing private things that happened in Sunday church meetings with my Dad and that I was opening up the church to imposters. What was comical about that accusation is that I wasn't even attending Sunday services, so how on earth was I the informant? I didn't even know what was going on. My own friends treated me like a little kid; as if I didn't know my ABCs and acted like I was stupid. I had my closest friend tell me that she "couldn't explain the Sunday meeting to me" because, "You just won't understand it." Really? I had gone to meetings for years and years before being taken out and I understood them just fine. So to tell me that I wouldn't understand what was spoken was outrageous, hurtful and ridiculous. It's been a process to overcome the hurt, to forgive her and move on from it. But forgiveness is the only way to live a free life in Jesus. If you hold onto bitterness, unforgiveness and hatred, you'll only sink yourself into a miry pit of depression and hurt. You're only hurting yourself, not the person who originally inflicted the hurt on you.

Then another accusation that was hurled at me was that my Dad owned a gun and was threatening to shoot someone. That was also outrageous. My Dad owned a BB gun, but the only thing he ever shot was blades of grass. He couldn't even shoot a grasshopper. He's the type that picks up scorpions and takes them outside if he finds one in his home. He doesn't kill anything, let alone have a 9mm gun, threatening to shoot people. I would tell them that their assumptions were wrong, but all that would do was bring on more accusations and things I needed to "pray through about" so I could see the "swamp of lies" I was wallowing in. They just wouldn't believe me! I never could figure out why they thought I was the informant of what went on in Sunday meetings when I didn't even go to Sunday meetings.

So I asked for a meeting and she and her husband scheduled a meeting with me at their home the next evening. I drove up to their house and my heart sank. It wasn't just them there. I had specifically asked for just the two of them to be there. But they had, unbeknownst to me, invited the other pastor and his wife to attend the meeting also. I was not prepared to confront this pastor with the issues I had with him, or his wife. I felt the trust was broken. I called my Mom and told her I just wanted to leave right then and there; that I felt like they had broken the trust I had with them and that dealing with this was too much for me. She encouraged me to just go in, talk with them and see what they had to say.

I walked through the door and they were all smiles. I wasn't in the mood for playing games. In my mind, the games were over. No more deception, no more lies, no more manipulation was going to happen on their part towards me. I had had it. The pastor I had the issue with half smirked at me and said, "I hope you don't mind that we crashed your party." All that did was break the trust even further. So I sat down and they asked me what I wanted to talk about. I spilled it all. The dam of fakeness and trying to be a people pleaser broke. I no longer cared what they thought of me, and trying to make them happy with me. I was determined to be honest for once and share exactly how I felt and how I didn't like being accused of lies that I didn't tell, how I didn't like them accusing my Dad of things that they had no truth to base it off of. I told them that I didn't appreciate being accused of doing things that I didn't do to just get a response out of me. My heart was to serve God and I didn't feel that requiring me to leave my parents and never talk to them again was what God required. I told them that I was not going to do that; that I was going to live with my parents and serve them as their daughter.

They asked me if I wanted to leave the church and I told them I didn't know. They told me to get back with them and to talk with my cousin, Bessie, who I had been spending a lot of time with too. She was leading the city church with her husband and their friends. I called Bessie that night and talked with her about things. All through the night and into early morning, I prayed. I lay on my bedroom floor, crying, asking God what He wanted of me. My heart ached. The tears wouldn't stop. I loved my family, my friends, the community, the lifestyle, the homeschooling, the homebirths and values (the good ones that is!). I felt lost. What on earth was I going to do if I left? Where would I go? What would God have for me? I was scared. Tired. Frustrated. Even a bit angry.  But it was clear as the morning hours drifted in that it was time to leave. God reminded me how He told Lot's wife to never look back. He was requiring the same of me. "Don't look back. Leave. Now. I have plans for you."

So around 5 am, I picked up the phone and called Bessie. I told her my decision.

"I am leaving the church, Bessie. I won't be coming back. I love you. But God told me to leave." I told her.

She told me she knew this was coming and that she felt all night that I was going to call with this piece of news. She began to tell me how God gave her a vision of a young man leaving God and how he died a few weeks later and that she would pray that something that drastic wouldn't happen to me, but that I would be riddled with sickness, or something would happen to show me the error of my ways and how I had left God. I didn't know what to say to her words besides, "Those words aren't from God. God spoke to me to leave and so I'm leaving." We hung up and I haven't spoken to her since.
Hang on tight...my journey in words will continue soon :)

Going Back

After a couple of months of floundering around and trying to decide what I wanted to do with my life, I decided to start the long process of returning to my community that I had been going to most my life. After all, (in my mind at the time) it seemed the only logical thing to do. The only reason I'd left in the first place was because I just wanted to do what I wanted with my life. Going out into the world was scary and unstable for me and returning to everything I knew and loved seemed the best.

So I told my Mom what I wanted to do and at the time, she was still there, apart of the community, though she was still only attending Friday night meetings. So she encouraged it, which post thought and action, we are both sorry we made that decision. It only led to more pain and hurt. But at the time, it seemed the right thing for both of us!

I called the elder who was over the Friday night group that my Mom was attending and I scheduled a meeting with him and another leader of the community. At the meeting, we talked about what had happened, my bad choices and what I was wanting to do with my life. I pretty much told them that I just wanted to pursue being able to come back to meetings and to join the community. They gave me some outlines on what would be required of me; weekly calls to "check in" and honesty and vulnerability in my conversations with my Mom and the elders. Live by the rules and soon I'd be back, they said.

So I began my journey. It wasn't a long one, actually. I started calling my pastor's wife almost on a daily basis. We became friends, and even to this day, I miss talking to her. It's not so much that the people are bad, it's the theology, the rules, the regulations and the lack of following God, and following rules made by man, that makes this community not what God wants. As time passed, I got invited to go to my pastor's wife's house and I started helping her around the house and cleaning, ironing and cooking. As the relationship built, more honesty and trust was built. I believe it was about 2 months after my initial meeting with the elders that I got invited to a Friday night meeting.

Now, something I have dealt with since leaving the final time, is actually distinguishing the Voice of God, from the voice of man. I have found myself questioning what is God and what isn't, and I have no claim to being perfect in this area. It's one that I still struggle with, but one I am gaining more "experience" in, if you want to say it like that. But there are times in my life that I know I've heard God and I know that He's spoken to me. And as strange as it might sound, I feel confident God wanted me to return for a short time. When I went back, I had no clue it would only be for a little more than a year, but it was a season in my life that needed to happen.

As I got more and more involved with the community, I got invited to go to nightly prayer meetings up at the church with some of the girls and women of the church. I went and it was an exciting time for me. I still look back on those nights and remember the power of God moving in my heart and feeling refreshed after my meetings with Him. My heart was really to search after God and do His will. I know it must not make too much sense, because of how this community is designed, but I want to remind you that I honestly thought that God was there and spoke through these people. I'm not even going to go as far as to say that God didn't speak through them at times. I mean, if God can speak through a donkey (Numbers 22: 21-39) then He can speak through anyone, right?!

I remember one particular night, I was up at the prayer rooms praying. I was feeling so close to God and I remember Him saying He wanted me to be a Moses. I didn't realize what He was speaking and to this day, I am not sure exactly what all that entails. I am hoping it entails the vision He has given me for Los Angeles, California. One day, around the time when I was 15 years old, I was with my family and we were taking a trip out to California to see my extended family. We were flying from DFW to LAX and from there, to our final destination. As we were flying over Los Angeles, my heart suddenly began to pound, my eyes filled with tears and I was very confused as to my feelings. I felt a heaviness, yet an excitement and I felt a whisper, "This is your home. This is where you will be. I have plans for this city and I want you to be apart of it." At the time I actually brushed this off. I contributed it to the excitement of going on vacation and just my brain going nuts. What I didn't know, is that this excitement for this city, and the vision God has for it would continue to grow in my heart. It's still growing to this day and I still don't know exactly all the plans God has for me and mine with that city! But I'm confident in the fact that someday, somehow we will be in that city and we are going to see miracles happen, people's lives changed, healed and restored and see people become victorious in Him! It's all so exciting! I hope some of this excitement I have for this city spreads to others too.

As each passing week continued and I delved more and more into praying, reaching out to God and wanting to hear His heart, I began the process of joining this community. Joining this community isn't as simple as going to a membership class, signing a paper and getting a few smiles, a hug and a "membership packet." It entails a whole lot more than that. But as I began this journey, I kept finding my heart not settled. I felt uncomfortable. I felt like I was sick to my stomach every time I would take another step forward towards becoming a member. But it was confusing to me, because I thought it was God wanting me to be here. So why was my heart not feeling peace?

I met with my pastor and his wife, and they gave me some literature (church books talking about the beliefs of the church, discipleship, leadership, etc) to read and pray over. Everything had to be prayed over.  That was the mantra, so to speak, there. "Have you prayed about it?" "Go pray about it." Now, while those sayings may be typical in the Christian world and something that is definitely good to do, something we should all do automatically, because God should be the center of our hearts and we should always want to know what His heart is for our every day lives. But this "pray about it" seems different. It was more a forced thing. And often, "praying about it" didn't mean actually hearing the Voice of God, rather praying until you agree with the brothers and "hear" what they think is the Voice of God. So I continued to read these books, highlight passages that spoke to me and would call almost on a daily basis to share with my pastor or his wife, what I was feeling, thinking and "hearing" from God. I am ashamed, a bit, at myself, because so often I really thought I was hearing from God. But as I look back now, I realize that I just wanted to fit in. I just wanted to get baptized and become a member. I wanted to begin my life as a full fledged member and just be apart of everything. I know that God had a purpose for that time and at times, I have struggled to see that purpose. But as time has passed, I have seen more and more that He has orchestrated all this beautifully. Not only have I been matured through this process, but I have gone through unspeakable pain and hurt. I have lost everything I had come to know and love. I have left everything behind to follow God. And when I have felt alone, He has reminded me of Ruth. There is always something that God will speak to you with from His word, to encourage you that you're not alone and He did no less for me. Every time I have felt discouraged and like I couldn't go on and would question Him on His plans for my life (which is ridiculous, right? Since His plans are always wonderful, unfathomable and great! My plans could never amount to what He has for me!) He would lead me to a verse, a story, a testimony in the Bible that would encourage me that I'm not alone!

So I continued to "press into God" and building a relationship with my pastor and his wife. Then things started to spiral out of control. The feeling of discontentment and unrest continued and thoughts started filling my mind as events out of my control began to pelt my everyday life.

....to be continued later!

It all works together for good

I had a wonderful childhood. Anything I say here in no way reflects badly on my parents and the decisions that they made. I feel grateful and blessed to have them as my parents and I am honestly grateful for the decisions that they made, because it has shaped me into who I am today.

My childhood was a bit different than most people's childhoods. I grew up in a small community that lay peacefully among the bluffs of Waco, Texas. This community began back in New York City by a young couple, aspiring to love on people and bring people to know God. This community expanded and grew, moved to Colorado and then finally landed in Waco, Texas.

This community had wonderful aspects of it; homeschooling, home birth, gardening, crafts, community lifestyle, an annual craft fair that is still going to this day, and a lot of other really good things.

My parents joined this group when I was around 7 years old. So I pretty much have no memory before this, besides a few small episodes of kindergarten and a teeny bit of first grade. I loved life, living on a farm. We dressed in modest dresses, had hair to our waists (or however long it grew! For me, I had hair about 7" above my ankles!), the men wore pants and modest shirts, marriages lasted forever, weddings were huge events, and so on. The sense of community was strong. When someone was sick, or had just had a baby, we gathered round them and brought them meals, cleaned their homes and watched their kids. We prayed for them. We drew close to each other. It was very tight knit and to be honest, I loved it. If I could have it all today, I would.

So why don't you, you might ask? It's a painful story to share. My heart aches and tears well up as I think back on all the good times I had there. But God wanted me somewhere else and that path was not in that community.

I hesitate to share much, because it's an unreal experience I had. Please understand as you read, that while this may sound outrageous and beyond understanding, I speak this with the upmost care and love. I have no hatred towards the people I grew up with. I have no bitter feelings. I feel sad for what has happened and I look forward to the day, Lord willing, that I get to them again, whether it's here on earth or in heaven.

At the age of 17, my parents got a call that a couple of the elders of the church wanted to meet with them. There had been some discussions already with my Dad, but I was young, and my Dad didn't want to drag me into the issues going on. When they got home from the meeting, their faces were red and puffy from crying. They sat me down to explain that we were no longer allowed to go to meetings or do any church activities. There would be no more Sunday Church, no more Tuesday night prayer meetings, no babysitting, or birthday parties, no having people over, or going to choir or orchestra, nothing. Everything was taken away and the only thing we were "allowed" to attend was their Friday night visitors meeting. They told us it might be a week, maybe two, while my parents "prayed through" to the heart of God and changed some things.

The issue my Dad had that caused all this was one that concerned a debatable topic in the Christian world; non-violence and discipleship. The beliefs of this community were that no one was supposed to defend themselves in any way, or go to war, or fight. My Dad's question was this, "So if someone were to break into my home and threaten/hurt my wife and daughter, I'm not allowed to defend them, and try to take the intruder down?" The answer was a clear and resounding, "No." Then there were issues with discipleship. The way the community  interpreted how discipleship should be implemented was that everyone should "run things by the brothers" and "pray through" to "hear the voice of God" if what we were feeling didn't align with what the brothers felt. For instance (as an example) if you wanted to go on a vacation with your family, you didn't just plan it, pack up and go. You had to submit your idea to the brothers, get approval, pray and pray, and pray some more. If they didn't approve it and you still went, you'd be told you're not submitted to God and the leadership.

So my Dad was questioning all this and feeling like what they were asking and doing wasn't of God. So his "praying through" never really worked, because the true Voice of God was speaking to him and he knew in his heart that the way the brothers were wanting him to act wasn't of God. So every time he'd talk with the brothers, he would come back and things wouldn't be different.

A year passed by while all this was going on. I became secluded, quiet, depressed and frustrated. I began to not eat as much and my health deteriorated. I was having constant migraine headaches and I dropped from being about 125 lbs to around 109. I was tired and here I was, now 18 years old and didn't have friends, or a life beyond the four walls of my home.

My Dad finally left the church and my Mom and I continued going. I'm not sure why we kept going, really. I know it makes no sense. It's really hard to explain. You'd have to be there to know what I am talking about. There was a sense of power this community had and we had come under this power and we thought that every word that came from their mouth was from God and if we didn't obey and believe, we would die and go to hell. I wanted to be baptized and was working on my "open, honest, vulnerable" relationship with our pastor and his wife. I always felt obligated to come up with something to tell them that I'd failed in, because I knew that if I didn't, they'd question me and wonder what I was hiding. I hadn't always been the most honest person in my life. I'm not proud of it. I was one of those kids that wanted to come up with something to say, just to have something to say. I felt insecure, and like I wouldn't be accepted if I wasn't like everyone else. And I knew the elders of the church knew that, as I was often the center of debates on who was telling the truth and who wasn't. I often "lost" on the debate, because other kids knew they could get by with lying and tacking their lies on me. It caused me to be angry and frustrated, because I would often tell the truth, but then still get punished because no one believed me. Thank Jesus He got a hold of my heart and I changed, and now I walk in His truth, and tell the truth to others too. :)

So the first year passed by, then a second year, then a third. Nothing changed. Nothing. I was now almost 20 years old. I had started working for a company called Consumer Research Group, training Dell employees (sort of being a secret shopper, but helping them learn to build the perfect, customer specified, computer). Every time we would begin a training class, the trainers (including me) would gather in a chat room to discuss the class and what we would be doing. All this was done online, and the trainers could do it from the comfort of their own home.

To say I was innocent in all this would be an understatement, as I had no clue about predators, stalkers, and the like. I mean, I had a small inkling into the matter, but I never imagined someone would try to get to me, and hurt me. But I "met" this man who was also a trainer, in this chat room. Most of us had exchanged emails and corresponded outside of the chat room. So I didn't give it a fleeting thought about giving this man my email address and talking with him. Now, I knew that talking with this man was against my parents rules and ultimately the church rules. Girls and boys in the church weren't supposed to talk, and if they did, an adult, baptized member was supposed to be there, listening to every word. But I was nearly 20 years old and I felt entitled to do what I wanted. I was struggling inside, on whether I was even going to stay in the church, or not. So breaking the rules was the least of my concerns. But I wasn't good at hiding any of this, so of course, my mom discovered the emails and that was the end of that!

Because of my contact with the man, I had a choice to meet with the brothers, repent and who knows what else (probably not even be allowed to go to Friday night meetings), or leave. I decided to leave. I didn't know what life entailed for me. I felt alone, out cold and lost. I had never dated, never held hands with a boy, never kissed, never been alone with a guy. I had never had a real job, (like working with other people and being under a general manager) I had never lived alone, I really hadn't done much with my life that would benefit me in the outside world. All I knew was gardening, sewing, homeschooling, no dating, no struggle, a world of practical perfection.  I knew that I didn't like not being allowed around my friends, or to be apart of the community, but it was all I knew. So going out into the world really triggered a lot of emotions, frustration, anger and fear. I left my parents home and went to live with a family that had already left the community a few years before. I nestled in and tried to get into a rhythm, but this family had joined another Christian community that was pretty strict and had lots of rules. At this point in my life, I wasn't interested in rules and regulations. I wanted to discover myself, and find out who the real Courtney Irvine (my maiden name) was. I wanted to explore, figure out life, go to college, and get some experience in the world. It was all so new and exciting to me. So after a couple of short months of living with this family, something happened where I was being pressured to join their church (along with a few other complications that I prefer to not talk about), I left their home and went back home to be with my parents. There I had a choice too. I either needed to get a job, and try to make things work in town (or at their home if I needed) or move somewhere that would make me happy.

Continuation coming up....

This is me and my Dad, working in the garden.

I called you by name- Introduction to My Life

I am your average mom. I have three children and I don't have a perfectly clean house, and my laundry isn't always done. I have struggles. But, what isn't average about me, is that I serve a mighty God and He has orchestrated my life in a beautiful, challenging way.

If I told you all the bad, you might think my life has been one struggle and failure after another. But if you could see the "behind the scenes" version of my life, I think you'd be amazed at how beautiful my story is.

I have hesitated telling my story, because it's one of ups and downs, and frankly, at times, unbelievable. But that's what makes it so incredible. God has rescued me from the unbelievable and put me into an extraordinary life of triumphs. So often, I have thought over my own life story and have been amazed at how many things I have been through and overcome.

My story begins where all our stories begin; birth. I was born to a woman who couldn't take care of me. Her life was tumultuous and confused. She was married, but I wasn't her husband's child. My birth father didn't want to have anything to do with me. My birth mom had two other small daughters, my half sisters. They were 3 and 4 at the time. While she was pregnant with me, she attended church with her mother, my Grandmom, Grace. She knew that she wouldn't be able to care for me, and there was this couple at church that she noticed didn't have children. She felt prompted to watch them and during the pregnancy, she knew in her heart that this couple was supposed to be my parents. In the long run, she ultimately asked them to be my adoptive parents, stating that she felt God spoke to her that I belonged to them. The cool thing? I had curly red hair and freckles. I was the very essence of the prayers and requests my adoptive Mum had prayed!

At 6 months old, I went to live with my parents, Terence and Tracie Irvine. They began to raise me as their own and near my first birthday, they adopted me.

Life went on as normal as I grew up. I attended church with my parents, began school and lived the normal, happy childhood. I was a rather rambunctious child, I think. Life was good, but I know I was quite the challenging child for my parents. I have no doubt that I gave them a many a tear and sleepless night. In fact, I know I gave them grief.

I am going to pause here for a minute, to give some more foundation to my life's story. As I contemplated writing this book, I found myself becoming more and more hesitant, because my story is unique, different and at times, just down right weird. I have not been perfect. I am far from it. But as I came closer and closer to the decision to write, I felt God impress on me to be open, honest and show what it's like to actually go through struggle, to have disbelief, to leave God, to return to God and to become an over-comer. I am not here to paint a pretty picture about myself. I am a sinner, saved by God's grace and love. I have failed many times in my life. I have hurt people with my words and actions. I have done things I am not proud of. But my story is one of failure and triumph, of death and life, of disappointment and excitement, of sadness and happiness, of loss and of gain.

So hang in there with me, and enjoy the journey as I share my heart and life with you. I hope you enjoy reading it and are encouraged that you too, can have a life of resurrection and triumph. I hope you see that it's ok to fail while being a Christian, but can overcome by His grace.