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  1. Lisafer

    Fundie Relatives

    I know I'm not the only one on FJ who grew up fundie or has fundie relatives. For those of you who also have fundie family members, how do their beliefs affect your relationship with them? Are you close? Distant? Estranged? Do they know about your current belief/nonbelief? My parents are still extremely hardcore in their beliefs, and it has definitely affected my relationship with them. I speak to my mom on the phone a couple times a month and see them 1-4 times a year on average, but I try not to discuss religion. My parents still assume I'm Christian, as far as I know. If they knew my true beliefs, they would be very upset and think that I was going to hell, so I see it as a kindness to them and myself to keep my mouth shut. I don't know if I would lie if they asked me directly whether I was a Christian, though. I also am very careful what I discuss with people from the church I grew up in, because anything I told them would undoubtedly make its way back to my parents. I've found new friends over the years who accept me as I am, and that is very validating. I would get a lot of flak from my fundie relatives, if I should suddenly announce my current beliefs and practices. So how do y'all relate to your fundie families?
  2. 3SecondSideHugger

    Amy Allwine Murder Case

    Just listened to Casefile podcast Case 86: Amy Allwine. Very sad story about a couple in United Church of God.. they met at college (I think?) near Big Sandy. Husband tried to use dark web to have someone murder his wife, ended up getting scammed and murdered her himself, but tried to make it look like a suicide. Anyone else heard a program about this story? The story is so crazy and sad! He cheated on her using Ashley Madison website, Church does not allow divorce, the FBI hacks the hit men scam group on dark web and warns the family that she was on someone’s hit list. Then he ends up shooting her and tried to make it look like a suicide, but failed and was found guilty of murder.
  3. Lisafer


    H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks (A comical reference to the hot place, based on the shape of the last two letters) The Christians I grew up around took Hell pretty darn seriously. They didn’t believe in expiation of sins after death: once you’re dead, you’ve lost your chance, buddy. If you weren’t saved by Jesus before you died, off you go in a handbasket to the hot place. For Reformed Presbyterians, this is compounded by the Calvinist belief that God has already determined who’s headed to the flames, but has not chosen to share this information with humankind. Of course the above paragraph is a simplified explanation, but sometimes it helps to strip away all the fancy theological terms and state things baldly. I was taught that if you died without believing in Jesus as Savior, you would instantly go to a place of never-ending torment and darkness, and at the Resurrection your body would be consigned to the flames to burn forever without any chance of escape. This shit fucked with my head pretty badly growing up. I remember sheer sweating terror one night where I had convinced myself I was going to Hell. I still remember how afraid I was as I faced an eternity of screaming agony, sure that I couldn’t do anything about it. After all, if God had predestined me to the flames, there was no way around it—no propitiation, no sacrifice, no acceptance, no forgiveness. I relaxed a little bit about Hell after that; I think I numbed myself to the possibility of ending up there and tried not to think about it. But I still believed in eternal torment, and I still believed that the unsaved were headed there by the thousands every day. This led to a lot of guilt about not witnessing to the unsaved. Now I know this doesn’t really make sense, because if God had already chosen his people, it couldn’t be my fault if somebody went to Hell. At the time, though, it didn’t seem nearly so clear, and if anyone I knew died who wasn’t Christian, I was full of guilt because maybe I was the one who was supposed to evangelize them and save them from the flames. We were commanded to spread the Gospel, and I wasn’t doing it, or not doing it well enough. It made me really sad when my grandfather died an “unbeliever.” I couldn’t reconcile myself to the idea of him burning up forever. I just didn’t understand how people could be happy in Heaven when they knew their loved ones were shrieking in the fire. Apparently if you are one of the elect, when you go to Heaven you are purified and happy forever and just…don’t care about your friends and relations? Forget about them? Rejoice in their punishment, since they are sinners? Holy fuckballs! If that’s the way it works, I’m jumping in the handbasket with my loved ones and heading to the Pit, because Heaven sounds a lot more twisted. I would think for most Calvinists, predestination would take the edge off of personal guilt about evangelizing to the lost. But if you believe that everyone has an opportunity to be saved, like many modern Evangelicals, how do you not spend every waking moment trying to rescue people from the flames? Unrepentant humanity is throwing itself over a cliff of destruction! You should be waving signs, screeching warnings, blocking their path…oh, wait, there’s a bunch of Christians doing exactly that, and it’s obnoxious. Theologically consistent, but obnoxious. But understanding how some Christians view Hell as a place of eternal, no-escape torment does shine a light on their behavior. If somebody thought you were about to jump off a ten-story building, you’d expect them to try to stop you. That’s what a decent person would do. Unfortunately, there are a lot of well-meaning Christians out there trying to “save” people from the Christian Hell. Their intentions are good, but I’ve always heard that the road to hell was paved with good intentions... Like a lot of my early beliefs, my belief in Hell slipped away gradually. I had to go from strict Calvinism (God only saves the elect, all others go to Hell) to a belief in free will (you can decide to accept God, and then you will go to Heaven) to the belief that the Divine love is open to everybody, and that the only hell is one you create for yourself. And if you’ve created it for yourself, you’re free to leave it behind. But what about mass murderers? What about Hitler? A lot of people consign the unrepentant to eternal flames with smug satisfaction. A lot of people do that, some without even really thinking about it. “He got what was coming to him.” “He can rot in hell.” That’s our desire for justice talking. If we lost our sense of justice, we’d lose a huge part of our humanity. Pain and suffering follows evildoers. Karma is a bitch, and we bless her for her bitchiness. But what if even the most evil are not unreachable by love? Maybe, even when we are full of justified anger and hate against the worst of humankind, maybe Divine love doesn’t give up trying to bring them back to goodness, even after death. That’s why I can’t say that I hope anybody rots in hell, because one: I don’t believe in it, and two: I hope that everybody finds some kind of redemption, be it through reincarnations or purgatory or something else. At least that’s how I think of it. I don’t fear Hell anymore, and that’s a relief. I don’t want my children to grow up in fear, sickened by the thought of eternal flames. I asked my son once if he knew what “hell” was—he said he knew “hail” fell from the sky, and I laughed because he didn’t know, and he wasn’t afraid, and that’s the way a child should be.
  4. EowynW

    Meggs Mission

    This is one of the fundie girls I grew up with on the fundie family bluegrass circle. I'm really surprised she isn't a follower of Lori Alexander yet. Lori would love her. They are dirt poor and already have a second kid on the way in 3 years of marriage. http://www.meggsmissions.com/2018/06/lessons-on-authority.html?m=1#more
  5. Lisafer


    I thought I'd write a blog post about homeschooling, one of the parts of my upbringing of which I have both good and bad memories. To be frank, I'm actually currently homeschooling my own older child (the other is too young yet). I think a lot of the difference between me and my parents lies in why, not as much in how. I'm not doing it to keep my children from the world. I'm not Christian myself, but probably 90% of the public school teachers in this area are. I'm homeschooling because I enjoy providing my children with an educational experience that I can tailor to their learning styles. If it stops working for us, we'll re-evaluate putting them in school. My parents homeschooled their kids because they firmly believed that public schools were instruments of Satan (although they might not have used that specific term). They thought that the government used schools as indoctrination camps to make children into atheists and evolutionists. They had both been educated in public schools, so I guess the atheist indoctrination didn't take. They both held professional licensures as well in a medical field (not being specific for privacy). Needless to say, our education was heavily Christian-based. We used Rod and Staff, Abeka, Apologia, Sonlight, etc. in our curriculum, and participated in a homeschool reading program in the summer and homeschool spelling bees as well. My mother focused heavily on seat work and completing workbooks. Every morning she'd have a list of the tasks to be completed written out on a whiteboard. We were allowed to take the different tasks in any order, as long as they got done. We weren't allowed free play time until after the schoolwork was completed, usually by 1 or 2 in the afternoon at the latest in the older grades (we'd get up, have our private Bible time, breakfast, and start school by about 7:30). We had family Bible time in the morning and evening, and my mother would read fiction aloud to us before bed. The cons: massive focus on fundamentalist Christianity, extremely whitewashed American history (MLK was scorned as a lying communist--??? still haven't figured that one out), young-earth creationism, lack of education about other religions. The pros: my mother enjoyed teaching, and I enjoyed learning. We had access to a lot of books, fiction and non-fiction. Except for the gaps noted above, I got a pretty solid educationin English, math, literature, music, and art and had no trouble moving into college classes when I was about 18. Homeschooling was one of the few things I remember fondly about a childhood I describe as "kinda sucky." I learned to cook and sew pretty well, skills that have come in handy for me, and in spite of the no-evolution bias, I was damn good at college anatomy and physiology classes because I'd learned a lot of it already from Apologia curriculum. It was hard to fill in the gaps, though. I'm still catching up on movies that most people my age saw years ago! And I thought I had a lot of history knowledge, but what I had were dates and fact snippets, not understanding, because I was taught a biased view of history that showed white Christians as the saviors of the world. Ugh. And studying the Bible as if it was all completely factual didn't do me any favors, either. All in all, I'm not sorry that I was homeschooled, and I know my parents were trying to do what they thought was the right thing in educating us at home. What makes me angry is that my parents both went to college, and then tried to deny me the same choice because I was a girl and I was "supposed" to focus on homemaking, marriage, and babies. I started community college under a cloud of disapproval, but my mom had encouraged the love of learning, and I wasn't about to stop just because I'd finished high school. I had a lot of mental conflict because of not "honoring" my parents, but the urge to do something with my life overpowered the doubts that stemmed from my upbringing. I couldn't imagine just sitting at home waiting for a man. And I didn't want a bunch of kids. My older child is doing great with homeschooling so far. But I have no fear that Satan is lurking in the halls at the local public school. If anything, I'd be worried about too much Christianity there! I know some people had utterly horrible experiences with homeschooling, and wouldn't dream of doing it with their kids. I feel that I can give my kids some opportunities with homeschooling that might not be available in our local public schools. As I said before, it comes down to WHY people choose to educate in that manner. Parental involvement is key. And as screwed up as my mom's beliefs were, she was involved and genuinely making an effort to educate us.
  6. Lisafer

    Fig Leaves

    When I talk about modesty and how I had to dress in my childhood, I am talking about my experience only. Although the church I grew up in promoted modesty as an ideal, they did not demand a certain dress code or style of clothing. What I grew up with stemmed from the far stricter beliefs of my mother, enhanced by various books and tracts on the subject. My mother did not grow up fundie. I was probably about three or four when she decided that shorts were inappropriate attire—and she took my shorts away. I remember being upset about it: a feeling that would return many times over the years. Women with short hair were considered to be sinning against God, based on 1 Corinthians 11:14-15. My hair grew to just past my rear end, and I was hella proud of it, even though I had crazy split ends. I could braid that hair, pin it up, make two buns like Leia (not that I really knew who Leia was). Turns out I actually look a lot better with short, styled, colored hair, now that I’m a practicing witch and can wear my hair however I want. But at the time, my long hair gave a little boost to my self-confidence, because it was a symbol of “godliness.” In my pre-teen and early teen years, I definitely wore frumpers. My mom and sisters did too. We made a lot of our own frumperlicious clothing, and I am grateful to my mom for teaching me how to sew, even if I wouldn’t be caught dead in a frumper again. Because skirts and dresses tend to fly up when playing, my mother made us “bloomers” to wear underneath. These instruments of Satan were white cotton knee-length drawers, elasticized at the waist and around the legs so they would stay in place. They weren’t visible under our long dresses. We wore regular underwear under the bloomers. Y’all, this getup was So. Fucking. Hot. in the summer. I distinctly remember trying to peel the sweat-soaked cotton down my legs so I could use the bathroom. I eventually quit wearing bloomers, I think around 12 or so when I was expected to act more like a lady and stop roughhousing quite as much. I remember being very upset when my mother told me I needed to be more careful about what I was wearing because I was starting to “develop.” I had breast buds, and instead of a bra I was given a camisole. Camisoles do nothing to conceal nipples, they just make you even warmer in hot weather. (If it sounds like I was overheated a lot of the time, I was. We didn’t live in a house with central A/C until I was about sixteen, and I grew up in the Midwest. Even if we had A/C, we couldn’t have afforded to keep it at a comfortable temperature). To this day I struggle with feeling exposed if there is any nipple pokage through my shirt. And, pardon the TMI, some people have nipples that are not easy to cover! But I had no idea how to choose a decent bra. I think I was 21 before I got measured at Victoria’s Secret. I almost forgot about swimwear! We wore modest swimwear from a pattern by Lilies of the Field, who still sell the same type of swimsuit that we had back in the day, if you want to look it up. Every summer we’d pick out a new swim fabric from the store and make a suit. Two pieces: biker shorts to the knee, and a bodice with skirt over that. I think bodice is the right word, but it sounds far sexier than the reality. When I was younger, the bodice was a tank-top style; when I got older, cap sleeves were added, plus a “bib” of the same fabric in the front to cover the breasts. There was absolutely no fucking support under there for the boobies, though. It was all about covering, not supporting. I didn’t really like being “feminine” as it was defined by the standards of my fundie religion. I still, even though I occasionally dress up and look pretty, prefer a very loose, casual, comfortable style of clothing. Androgynous looks delight me as well. I appreciate what might be considered my more masculine traits: deep voice, angular body, small boobs, muscular shoulders. I don’t wear makeup. When I was pregnant, I was very uncomfortable with my suddenly curvalicious body. It didn’t match my ideal of myself. What I’m trying to say is that I was not a good person to try to put into a model of femininity based on 1950s stereotypes. I followed the rules for a long time, but eventually I snapped. I decided to wear pants. I could not find any real, genuine, Biblical reason not to do so, and I wanted very much to look like a regular person and not be questioned about my odd clothing. Once I made that decision, I refused to turn back. I was undeterred by threats of hellfire and by the screaming matches that ensued on my actions. This is why I think the Duggar girls may have actually taken a big step by wearing pants. Because, at least in my family, it was a big step. My mother, bless her heart, was horrified. I had finally shattered my “good girl” image, and all the steps I had taken towards freedom before that were as nothing compared to the day that I put on “that which pertaineth unto a man.” We compromised somewhat, after a while; I wore skirts in the house. I changed more times than I remember at work, at community college, in the car. My sisters, as they grew up, did the same. All this talk of modesty, but we couldn’t change clothes in the privacy of our home. We were changing clothes in bathroom stalls. This modesty stuff is bullshit. It’s not about protecting women: it’s about having the final fucking word. I’m suddenly so angry I can’t see straight. There were other things to be aware of if I wanted to be dressed modestly. No tank tops, because men might be turned on by the area below your arms. No low necks, defined as being able to see into your shirt if you bent over. No short skirts (above the knee was short). No strapless, naturally. No backless, or low in the back. Nothing thin enough that it might show the outline of your body if you stood against the light. No bra straps showing at the edges of your neck opening. Nothing tight enough to reveal that you had a figure of any kind. Red clothing was frowned upon as being a harlot’s color. I think contrasting buttons were okay though. Suck on that, Steve Maxwell! But pretty much, I grew up looking like I was wearing flour sacks. I got tired of people asking if I was Amish or Pentecostal. When I said I was Reformed Presbyterian they just looked puzzled. It was impossible to explain the convoluted rules in my family. I was the first girl in my family to break the modesty rules. By the time my youngest sister left home, the rules had been relaxed to the point that even my mother was wearing pants fairly often. She says she was legalistic about dresses. I hope sometime to be able to visit a nudist colony. I want to see what it’s like to lay aside clothing entirely as something unnecessary. Since that would be frowned upon in my current city, I wear what I feel like wearing. Tank tops in summer because I get frickin’ hot. Yes, you can see the tops of my boobs when I bend over, and I don’t give a shit. I almost never wear a long skirt; it brings up bad memories. I wear jeans that actually fit me instead of frumpers two sizes too big. I’m afraid that my still-smoldering anger at my mother is seeping through in this post. She would be most upset if she knew that I’m talking about these issues with strangers on the internet, but this is my story. This is what happened to me. I was hurt by fundamentalism, and I want to talk about it. My parents are still absolutely fundamentalist Christians, and because of that they can only acknowledge my hurt in a very limited way. I’m not writing this as revenge—I don’t expect them to read this, and I’ve kept their names private—but as my way of grappling with the lifestyle and beliefs that formed me. Apologies for the length of this post. I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface of the modesty mindset!
  7. Lisafer


    Hi everyone, and thanks so much for welcoming me into the Free Jinger community! I'm very excited to be here. Please pardon any glitches with my new blog, since I'm just learning. To introduce myself: I was born into a large family, and homeschooled all the way through high school. My parents were from fairly normal American middle-class backgrounds, not fundie at all, but over time they became absolutely entrenched in the Christian fundamentalist way of thinking. We attended church services at a Reformed Presbyterian church (RPCNA) for almost my entire childhood, after my parents left a more mainstream denomination. I'm going to use fake names in this blog, if I have to use names, as my siblings did not ask to be part of my story. I might change a few minor details as well, to keep certain people's privacy. Not that any of you would know us! We were very small fish in the pond, and my parents' attempts to indoctrinate us failed miserably for the most part. We are a family of stubborn, determined people, and by our late teens most of us were most determinedly going our own way. But I think that all of us, in different ways, were hurt by the attitudes and doctrines of fundamentalism. I, personally, was extremely hurt. I have had multiple counselors to work through years of guilt and fear induced by black-and-white doctrines and controlling personalities. I have mental illness, which was exacerbated by my upbringing. And I want to write about what I went through. It helps me process, and maybe it will help somebody else too.
  8. 47of74

    Fundie Signs

    Just saw this... What the hell? That's everything!
  9. Some of Winston Blackmore's family presented at a symposium in Salt Lake City. Since the FLDS and their break-offs are some of my pet fundie topics, I found the article interesting - but the comments are often even more so. http://www.sltrib.com/home/4165574-155/polygamists-describe-how-to-live-in Blackmore's more sophisticated than the FLDS, but I'm not convinced the lifestyle is any healthier.
  10. Lisafer


    Since today is Sunday, I thought I'd make my first real blog post about Sabbath observance in my family of origin. I wrote this a couple months ago, and was waiting for an opportunity to share it with others. Enjoy! Or be appalled...whichever. In Christian circles, there’s a range of views on the Sabbath and how it is to be observed. Most Protestants agree that the Sabbath is on Sunday, based on the New Testament description of Jesus rising on the first day of the week and Acts 20, verse 7: “And upon the first day of the week, when the disciples were come together to break bread, Paul preached unto them.” (KJV of course!) To celebrate the Sabbath on any other day could be perceived as a denial of the Resurrection. Reformed Presbyterians, such as I was, proclaim their freedom from the ceremonial laws of the Old Testament. They chow down on ham, bacon, and shellfish, wear mixed fibers, shave their beards, and shake hands with menstruating women. But somehow they think the commandment, “Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy,” is still in force and now refers to keeping Sunday holy as a day of rest. There’s really only a very shaky basis for that in the New Testament books of the Bible. Sure, according to Acts, Paul preached on a Sunday, but there’s no indication that the Gentile believers felt bound by any legalities of the Jewish religion. None. But Reformed Presbyterians can be very…very…fond of rules and legalities. Really, it might be easier for them to follow all the laws of the Pentateuch, rather than trying to make distinctions. For most of evangelical Christendom, keeping the Sabbath holy would probably mean showing up for church on Sunday. No fuss, no muss, and out by noon to make it to Applebee’s. If you’re Reformed Presbyterian, though, attending church is only the first step into a legalistic quicksand. This is an area where it’s definitely hard to find any consistency of practice, even in the tiny denomination I grew up in. Some people are hardliners (even cooking meals the day before to avoid excessive work on the sabbath) some are middle ground (reading secular novels and watching Netflix is allowed) and some people are so lax that they even go out to eat at restaurants, committing the double sin of violating the sabbath and causing others to violate it as well (those poor cooks at Mickey D’s!). Working at a job is very much frowned upon unless it is perceived as necessary, like nursing, emergency services, etc. To a well-balanced person, this probably sounds like a lot of fuss over a trivial matter. But when you’re a Biblical literalist and come across Numbers 15:32-36, a horrifying story about a man being stoned to death for picking up sticks on the Sabbath, you are bound to interpret Sabbath-breaking as a very serious matter. If God killed someone for picking up sticks, and God is still the same today, then the slightest infraction of the rules means that you are deserving of the same death. I cannot stress enough that I am not kidding here. Any thought, any action that violates the Sabbath is deserving of death by stoning. That is what I was taught, and that is what I believed. But the Reformed Presbyterians don’t want to end up on the news. They won't stone you literally, only figuratively. As long as you realize how worthy of death you are, and are seized with crippling anxiety as a result, they’ve done their job. So how could I break the Sabbath? Let me count the ways, as a child of parents who took everything, including Sabbath-keeping, to painful extremes. Also as a child with untreated and undiagnosed obsessive-compulsive disorder and anxiety. Sunday dawns, and I rise from bed. I do not perform my normal exercise routine: that, of course, would be sacrilegious. Going for a walk might be permitted later, as long as it’s kept to a gentle pace and a reverential attitude. Thank God for hot showers. At least in my family of origin, we were permitted to shower. Nobody wants a houseful of stinky people, not even Jesus. He was grateful for the prostitute that poured incense on him, wasn’t he? I’ve heard and read plenty of debates about the use of electricity on the Sabbath, because somebody is presumably working at the power plant. However, the general consensus is that electricity is necessary to the function of present-day society, so somebody has to work at the power plant. It most likely won’t be a Reformed Presbyterian, though. Breakfast is not fancy, maybe some scrambled eggs, to keep labor minimal. Big involved breakfasts are not for the Sabbath. From breakfast until time to leave for church is about two hours of trying desperately to keep my thoughts focused on what we called “Sunday things.” We weren’t supposed to even think about schoolwork, jobs, hobbies, or, basically, anything fun. God, sin, death, Bible, God, sin, death, Bible. God, sin, death, list of chores…wait, that’s a worldly thought-oh-God-forgive-me-for-that-in-Jesus’-name-amen. God, sin, death, Bible… As a family, we drove quite a ways to church on Sundays (only sinners and misguided people went to the regular local churches). The family van had to be gassed up on Saturday for the trip, because it would be a sin to fill the tank on Sunday morning. That would be unnecessary work, and also involve the sin of buying and selling on the Sabbath, which gets its own special mention in Sabbatarian hell. Many times, the drive to church included memorizing the Westminster Shorter Catechism, which is second only to the Bible among Reformed Presbyterians. It's a screed more dry than sawdust, but at least the questions provided a distraction from trying to shut off all non-Sabbath-related thoughts. Yes, it was like trying not to think of a pink elephant! Church was the main event of the day, of course. I don’t need to get into the routines of that here: the music was the Psalms of David, there was no accompaniment and we sucked at singing; the prayers were long, the sermons Calvinistic to the core. There was no excitement or running up and down the aisles shouting “Hallelujah!” As they say, you know you’re a Presbyterian when the preacher says something you agree with and you smile as loudly as you can. We were the Frozen Chosen. After church came the potluck dinner: everyone brought food (prepared the day before, of course) and the congregants shared a meal. This was usually the best part of the day, because for some reason you were allowed to think about food. Not too much, or you’d make an idol of it (ha! like Pepsi!), but at least you were allowed to enjoy lasagna and jello cake. Cue the Bible verse about Jesus plucking grain to eat on the Sabbath, blah, blah…Of course there were quaverings of unease even about the meal. Were we putting too much work into setting up tables and preparing food? Were people spending too much time chatting about worldly things? Were the children playing tag outside instead of walking quietly? Once the meal was concluded and we went home, the rest of the day stretched out gray and bleak. Catechism questions, Bible reading, sermons on audiocassette, a small supper, Psalm-singing in the evening (since it wasn’t public worship, my mother played the piano for that, thank heaven). We had a collection of books determined to be worthy of Sunday reading, so we read those over and over. I kid you not, some of them were republished tracts from the 19th century. Small children were not allowed to play with toys, except for the Noah’s Ark with its little plastic animals. Sometimes I could sneak a nap in, always with guilt about how I was using the Lord’s Day for sleeping. And most of us went to bed as soon as possible so we could end the misery. I used to get horribly depressed on Saturdays, knowing that Sunday was coming. That one day felt as long as the rest of the week put together. My OCD made it worse. OCD by its nature focuses on a source of anxiety, and my Sabbath anxiety was fear of sinning by thinking about secular things. I spent a lot of Sabbaths mentally chanting prayers for forgiveness every few minutes. If this sounds miserable, believe me, it was. The restrictions on what could be done on the Sabbath would have been bad enough without the sheer torture of trying to control every single thought that crossed your mind. Instead of being a day of rest, it became the most labor-intensive, mind-fucked day of the week. And they told me that Heaven would be one long, everlasting Sabbath.
  11. 47of74

    Toxic Christianity

    Just saw this blog post from a guy who found a truck with more than a few bumper stickers on them...
  12. From over on the Botkinette's thread: I was curious about Beth Moore, so googled a bit and came across Thabiti Anyabwile's May 3, 2018 blog post on the Gospel Coalition's website titled An Apology to Beth Moore and My Sisters Is this as significant as it seems to be? Will Thabiti lose his Gospel Coalition cred by this change of heart? I've recalled seeing his name along with some other Patriarchal/complementarian heavy hitters, but other than that cursory information, don't know a lot about him. Just click on the title for the full text of what seems to be a heartfelt and sincere apology, but is there something missing, as though he's vowing to be nicer, but is still a committed to his original views on a woman's role in life and ministry? This is the final paragraph: Curious if this is presaging a sea change for Anyabwile or just seemingly enlightened version of same old same old.
  13. Some fundies have changed over the years. Some changes are pretty minor while others are rather dramatic. For example, Zsuzsanna Anderson used to crap all over medicated hospital births but opted to go to the hospital when she was in labor with #10 and loved every minute of her epidural. Erika Shupe has sent her children to public school. The Jeubs have as well. Which fundie change shocked you the most? Which change do you want to know more about? It would be pretty interesting to make a list of the fundie transformations. But kind of hard to do.
  14. Here's Pat Robertson, being the second biggest douche nozzle in America to a grieving mother. Pat. Go fuck yourself. Then eat a bag of dicks.
  15. Leftitinmysnood

    Israel Wayne is having a Pity Party

    Has anyone else been watching Israel Wayne whine about how he feels like he doesn't belong because he hasn't rejected fundamentalism? Apparently he's getting all judgey on twitter. "Never judge a system by its abuses. Judge it by its tenets and core values." One wonders why his is protesting so much now. . . http://www.familyrenewal.org/i-apologize/
  16. So I think there is an FLDS family in my area. I have to say I am surprised since I don't live in Utah. Does anyone know much about smaller sects or singular families going off on their own?
  17. This happened in Australia The couple fortunately was able to locate an alternative venue and another minister for their November nuptials. As for North, he should go perform an intimate act upon himself in traffic.
  18. JMO


    Anyone have more information on this family? From their posts they appear conservative Christian. Anyone? Anyone?
  19. lawlifelgbt

    Can we talk about Fundies and food?

    I just wanted to start an open thread on how much fundies screw up with feeding their kids. If I were a fundie kid, you bet your butt I'd be always sneaking food. Who do you think, among fundies, is best or worse regarding food?
  20. "In the past three years, alarm bells have begun to ring about the role religion may play in fostering, or concealing abuse. There have been two substantial inquiries into domestic violence in Australia in recent years. Both have identified religion as a significant, under-reported problem." http://www.abc.net.au/news/2017-07-18/domestic-violence-church-submit-to-husbands/8652028?WT IMO very interesting article about how churches fail abused women and how toxic and dangerous the doctrine of "male headship" is.
  21. More here: www.rawstory.com/2017/05/study-finds-link-between-brain-damage-and-religious-fundamentalism/
  22. I just saw this on my Facebook feed, and I didn't see this mentioned yet. http://www.ocregister.com/2017/05/03/trinity-broadcasting-network-trial-did-1st-family-of-christian-broadcasting-cover-up-13-year-old-granddaughters-alleged-rape/
  23. 47of74

    John Oliver on grifting fundies

    Yeah I know this is from 2015, but I just came across this today. Among other things it talks about fundies and their love of private jets....
  24. I have no idea what's going on but I walked in to a rousing cat fight complete with screen caps. If you don't know what's happening either, you should go check it out. Carrying on from here!
  25. Lately I have fallen down the wormhole of Zero Waste and Minimalism and homesteading on the internet and I am hooked! Some of it, such as making your own laundry soap and buying second hand seems similar to the Duggar family pre-fame when they shopped at garage sales and squirreled away money. With this mindset if they gardened with all those hands they could can, raise their own meat, and grow food too which would save money. Also seems oddly "Un Duggery" to waste money on disposables if they're so obsessed with money. Plus if they are so worried about their bodies being temples why wouldn't they obsess about nutrition vs gorging on tater tots? I knew a Mormon family who was 110% essential oils and organic food in addition to modesty because of how they interpreted the Bible. And wouldn't all the liter from the disposable plates/napkins in landfills make them feel guilty about polluting God's earth? Food scraps alone for all those people would compost into a lot of top soil. And vegetables are so much cheaper than meat/tater tots too, why don't they eat more of that? So confusing!