Making the Cut — Part 2: A Seamless Connection

My separation-from-religion experience

This is the second part of a 6-part series chronicling my journey away from religion. If it offends you, I’m sorry, but you really shouldn’t let other people’s experiences trouble you. This is my experience and isn’t intended to discredit your experiences or beliefs in any way. My journey is mine and your journey is yours. I respect them equally.

Part 2: A Seamless Connection

I was brought up to believe I knew unknowable things. Ideas labeled spiritual and biblical had floating roots for nonbelievers, but for us — god’s chosen people — these truths made me feel larger than myself. I possessed the power to believe in things nobody could see: spirits and demons, revelations and faith.

I remember my first church service. My preschool self can still feel the calloused wood beneath my cheek as I lay beside my mother on the church pew, nose congested, eyes peering up at her upside-down face and black cat-eye glasses. Compressed music followed by dragging hand claps punctuated the gathering. Women danced. Men waved their arms. Strangers trumpeted meaningless syllables. I’m not certain if it happened on that day, but my Methodist-raised mother decided this would be our church.

I would soon discover, that this church world my mother had stumbled upon was no mere religion. The Gospel Assembly Church was god’s chosen people; they possessed the truth. Part of a non-denominational organization founded in 1914, this church had all the earmarks of the kingdom of god. It was bible-based and male-dominated to ensure godly leadership. Members must eventually receive the baptism of the holy spirit with the evidence of speaking in tongues and attend charismatic revivals and camp meetings. And when the struggles of the flesh became too much, the elders could cast evil spirits out of members who proceeded to vomit the evil into napkins and wastepaper baskets.

Over time, I grew accustomed to this religious world. It seemed natural to be haunted by the invisible substance of a father and son who insisted I pursue a pious life. Their omnipresence was commonplace and compelled me to persist in the face of obstacles that interfered with spirituality like television, movies, secular music, and the endless carnality and lust these things promoted. As far as I could see, overcoming the desires of the flesh remained a life-long turmoil for members of The Body.

By the time I reached middle school, the fact that we were separate from the world and all other religions held an infinitely special notion for me, a mysterious nexus of bearing the burdens of the flesh while becoming a beacon for those misguided by worldly passions and false religions. It was as if I held a special place of pointing the way for the lost. I relished it. I didn’t know it, but this seamless connection between myself and The Body would provide a stable track on which to ride out the next four decades of my life as a devote christian.

Making the Cut — Part 3: An Education of Isolationism

An Education of Isolationism

Eventually, my father was saved, receiving the holy ghost with the evidence of speaking in tongues while at work one day in his truck cab. Meanwhile, my mother drifted away from The Body and the truth . . .

In case you missed the Part 1 . . .

If you found this article interesting, I accept hugs in the form of

— Generous highlighting and applause

— Copious comments spilling with gratitude and deep-thoughts

— Scads of followers Julie Nyhus MSN, FNP-BC

— Positive thoughts directed my way

In peace and light,

Joolz