I have, for a long as I can remember been fascinated by the concept of God. I used to on occasions look at the freebie New Testament that was given to me in the first year of High School by the Gideon’s but it did not make a great deal of sense. My two aunties, who were both Jehovah’s witnesses were always trying to convert me and during my early teens I managed to get myself kicked out of one of the meetings, my auntie had talked me into going for giggling. It was simply because there was a woman who wore a hat that happened to look like a rabbit from behind but when she turned around she had a rabbit like face and I never recovered from the comic factor all night, so I spent most of it in a little room at the back while they all got on with the serious business of their religion.
As a teenager I became very interested in eschatology (the study of the end times). This was birthed the night I sat in the Plaza cinema in my home town of Flint, all by myself (one of the perks of having your mother as Manageress), aged 9, watching a movie called “the Omega Man” starring the late Charlon Heston. I was fascinated by the concept of an event that wipes most of the earth’s population and what would happen if I were the last man on earth. From that moment the concept of an ending point in our history became a real fascination for me and that lead me to the book of Revelation. I went to a Catholic priest and an elder, from believe it or not; the Jehovah’s witnesses for guidance and their answers just did not hit the mark.
By 20 years of age I was married and by 21 I was a father…one huge culture shock and my attempts to balance being husband and father with my love of mad alcohol binges began to cause problems, plus a failed attempt to move and settle in Runcorn did not help matters either.
As a backdrop to all this, my mother in law, who was at the time very much into occult and esoteric philosophy had become ill and pretty ill too. A cocktail of potentially life threatening illnesses had more or less bedridden her and with during the time we lived there, shortly after getting married, it was not pleasant.
Shortly after returning to the home town of Flint from an unsuccessful 6 months in Runcorn, we were amazed to find that she was not only on her feet but claimed to be fully recovered. She had a friend who was a born-again Christian who had invited her to go to a crusade fronted by a very well known faith healer. She went to the event; she accepted Christ as her saviour (as you do) and then got “healed”. For many this was to become the best news ever, but for those close to her and I am afraid to say this but a monster had been born.
She had gone from the tolerant, good humoured, easy going woman, to a locomotive of faith and a zeal for her new found God I have only found rivaled by one other. She destroyed all her occult, esoteric books and objects branding them evil and then, every weekend visit of ours set about converting her daughter and me. When it came to her God, she really did not suffer fools.
I could not help but wonder at the transformation, it was a bitter-sweet experience for both my wife at the time and myself. Firstly I was glad that she had recovered from these illnesses, however; behind the new found and ever growing religious zeal there was an arrogance that just rubbed me up the wrong way. I would put my points across and try and find some kind of common ground by no…my belief in God was just “not good enough”. I was a “sinner”, “unclean”, “separated” in this God’s eyes and the only way this “loving” God was going to accept me was if I went through this process of being born-again. Anything less than that and I was going to hell after I breathed my last breath.
We had thought that she had gone nuts. From the daughters perspective it must have felt like losing a mother as this was not the same person and a power struggle began and in many ways continued until the day she passed away. To many of her followers (and believe me, she did have her own followers), this woman was a saint and judging by the amount that turned up to her funeral this could be clearly seen. However; to those close to her, we knew a different woman and that is where I will leave it. However she is the perfect allegory of Christianity. On the surface level all seems well but underneath problem lies.
The weekend visits to see my late mother in law was one I used to relish mainly because of the debates and my chance to mock such a ridiculous belief system, little did I know that in time to come, I too would become a part of this system.
In the springtime of 1987, to my horror at the time, my wife at the time returned from a church meeting to tell me that she had “found Jesus” and that I need to find him too. She seemed happy and radiant but that just made me more and more angry about this belief system that had now invaded my home. I did not want the songs sung in my presence. I just hated it more and more with each passing day. Then on April fool’s day (hence the irony) there was a string of events that brought me to the “entry door” of the very belief system that I hated.
I was out for one of the monthly boozy binges with a close friend and drinking partner and for some reason he was more aggressive than usual. That night I had my sensible head on and talked him into getting the last train home before he declared war on the population of Chester
The following day I was released without charge and walked the 6 miles home to face the music and there was, to my surprise, no music. In my mind this kind of enhanced my new found faith that Jesus was helping me out. So this was indeed a good start. The day after, a very subdued me went to the mother in law’s home for the weekend visit and it was then that I found out about the next church crusade with a local evangelist and I agreed to go on the Wednesday and check it out. It was in the Methodist church in Flint
I told my mother in law that I had become a Christian in the police cell but that was not enough. According to her God wanted me to make it public and with this being the last night of the crusade I had to do it there. At first I was pretty angry that once again what I had done or suggested was not good enough, but after a long verbal duel I agreed to go to the meeting and do the whole thing in public.
There I was in this church building again dreading the end when the preacher was to make the altar call. During that time no-body else came forward to be “saved” which just increased the pressure on me. The preacher happened to say something along the lines of “there is a young man here who is struggling in life, in his marriage in his spirit and God is calling you tonight”, for some reason I found myself up there in front of this preacher. God had actually spoke to me through this man so what was I to do, but say yes. For years I was in awe of this moment until a few years ago the penny dropped. What I thought was a divine word of knowledge was merely my late mother in law speaking to the preacher about me and he just added the rest for entertainment purposes. I was taken into a back room by one of the deacons of the local Pentecostal church and just simply given a decision card and asked to attend church the day after.
The problem was I was having a pretty successful season in the local Sunday Football League so for the next 6 Sundays I continued to play. However; my mother in law was applying so much pressure to be in church and that God would more or less force me in there if I did not conform, my performance dropped and I eventually took the “divine hint” and trotted off into church.
I found it all very strange at first, all the singing and strange languages that would fly out of some of the people’s lips and the teaching that Jesus loved me and all I had to do was come to church and pop a little bit of money into a basket… so simple looking back now and in many respects very little pressure. In my mind, Jesus was a simple and often fun loving bloke in those days, then I began to get to know my first Pastor and began to be mentored by my late mother in law and the way I saw my new found saviour, lord and God began to change dramatically. He was a control freak who demanded more of my time, energy, life. Slowly and very subtlety I was changing into the monster, I was to become...I just did not know it.
During this time I spent a lot of my time getting to know Jesus through the bible. However; according to the mother in law that was not enough, I had to connect with the Holy Spirit and I absolutely had to speak in tongues. I found this whole thing of speaking in tongues very uncomfortable indeed, a feeling I still felt until the very day I left the church. However; at the time this is what I believed that Jesus wanted me to do and I had my so called baptism in the Holy Ghost in May 1988 at a Full Gospel Businessman’s Fellowship International Dinner. I bleated out a load of stuff but if I am going to be really honest, it took a few “tongues” before I found one cool enough. “Satre cus Sondos setre al la sundosh” was my first line before I went off on one and no-one knew it was just something I had more or less made up, so no one who claimed to be uber-prophetic ever picked it up. There were a lot of things down the years the so called uber-prophets never picked up about me. So Jesus either did not know Jack Shit about me or he was just too much of a gentleman to spill the beans and just let me teach and preach on his behalf. Still he seemed to do that for a lot of ministers, let them be the boss of other people’s lives and not mention their dirty little secrets.
I had then got tot the stage when I was convinced that Jesus had big plans for me and my family. I mean I had had my feet washed in oil during one of the weird home prayer nights in 1990. That was one surreal evening and I was told by Jesus that I would spread his word far and wide. I guess Flint
At my second church I learned an awful lot about the Pentecostal Jesus. I was taught that he and his church are one so I then worked it out that what the church does to you; he does to you and to other members of “his body”. Firstly there was arrogance, the fact that my second church considered themselves to be “only ones”, you know, the ones on the cutting edge, the planting of the Lord with all this knowledge, we don’t fit in with anyone else because of our “anointing”. We were the special ones. The next was that Jesus was a bit of a bully, he liked to use his position to force people to do his will and give their time, effort and money and when you did all these things it was never enough, there was always more that you can give to him and woe to you if you don’t. The next was he was a hypocrite. He taught one thing but eventually did the opposite, don’t drink, don’t watch evil television, and don’t harbour those unclean thoughts as they will turn to actions. He was a coward. Talked the talk about fulfilling the “mission” and when the going got tough ran and left us all for dead. Finally, his madness affects everyone. Crazy ideas, dissentions, break downs, strife, violence and hatred.
After the doors finally closed on my second church, I was now very, very weary of this Pentecostal saviour of mine, tho still terrified of his wrath but then in the next 13 years I was to discover something more startling to me…that this Pentecostal Jesus was never there. He was just an idea of a saviour that had be replicated down the years and in many cases corrupted to fit into the psyches of some seriously “sick” people. To some he was the no-nonsense, take no shit and take no prisoners warlord that if you questioned his orders you would be cut down in an instant, to some he was the gangster whom if you paid him your ten percent he will keep you safe from financial ruin (brought on by the devourer himself, satan) and to some he became the evil confidence trickster who preyed on the sick by selling his phony medicine and then blaming the patient for their “lack of faith in him” when they did not recover. My attempts during 1994 to 2000 to flee this tyrant failed mainly due to the absolute fear of his wrath and strangely enough it was inevitable that as psychologists believe that the abused tend to always find relationships that will replicate that abuse. In 1997, I brought this Pentecostal Jesus to my third church and in the two years I was there I hurt and offended a good number of people.
I ended up in my fourth and final church for six years of the same type of spiritual abuse until I finally learned that he wasn’t there at all. It was always the people, programmed little monsters, so trying to be good but just cannot live up to the standard and the result being that the bad would come oozing out…Jesus was never there. The frustration of not being good enough, not being godly enough, not being filled withthe spirit enough, not giving enough and not being holy enough just grinds the beleive down into a shell in the end. With the Pentecostal Jesus, your enough is never enough.
This really puts it into perspective. From the period 1997 to 1999 we attended my third church. Now looking back this was probably the most innocent and well meaning of the four churches. Run by four elders who did their very best to bring people in and do something good in the town they were situated. Then I showed up and tried to present them this “fucked up” Christ. Thankfully for them I left and good riddance too. I was infected with such arrogance and distain for this “pussy Christianity”, that if I had stayed there much longer I would have made a hell of a mess there and there was one of these four elders whom I was totally brutal with.
I am so sorry Ray and Eunice. I was so wrong.
I am so sorry Ray and Eunice. I was so wrong.
In some ways Jesus’ ability to replicate himself in others as they taught in Pentecostal circles (the Pentecostal Jesus) as far as I was concerned was a complete success. I was this creature, so nice on the surface but and cesspit of dark emotions on the inside. I became his battering ram, not even battering an eyelid when I would rebuke someone for their failings. Given the opportunity I would rebuke in public not caring about the recipient’s feelings just as long as the course of the ship remains stable.
Noel and Lisa, I am sorry. I was wrong.
The Pentecostal Jesus who wants to replicate himself in all the followers of this messed up belief system will, if you let him turn you into a potentially dangerous creature. Looking good on the outside, but a dangerous beast on the inside. The burning question that I leave with all Pentecostal Jesus wannabes is this…
If God love you so much and he accepts you for who you are, then why…why…why is he trying to destroy you to make you a clone of his son?
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