Had two visitors come “a knocking” going “door to door” a month ago. I knew right away what denomination they represented. I could have guessed what they were going to say even before they opened their mouths.
I knew they were Jehovah’s Witnesses, when I saw the groups of two, by their appearance, their demeanor, the ever present briefcase, and it was confirmed when the Watchtower came up out of the briefcase when I answered the door and said hello.
( I remember well the training, when the person answers the door, keep talking. )
Usually if JW’s come to the door, I don’t get in a discussion, I know from previous experience, they have an answer for everything….it may not be right…but they have an answer, and they are going to argue it.
That day I thought I’d try a different approach. I thought I’d talk to them a while and then tell them I was a disfellowshipedJehovah’s Witness who was confident in my redeeming relationship with Jesus and see what they would do.
It went sort of like this.
Older Man: “We are stopping at people’s homes in your neighborhood talking about the state of the world (gets out the latest issue of the Watchtower, and points out the topic). Who do you think is in control of the world?”
Me: (who has been silently praying and at this moment is wondering should I freak him out and say Jehovah) “God”
Older Man: “Why yes, that is correct.”
Younger Man: (shaking his head and agreeing) “Correct”
(I was half-smiling to myself. I well remember the “we know more than you” attitude and posture from door-to-door days. Some are not even aware of it, others quite so, it is something that comes with the teaching engrained that ‘they are the only ones that are correct’)
(Now here I was thinking I’d like to run and get my Bible, but here is where Cody decides to try to sneak out between my legs, so I grab him and push him back in the door.)
He quickly flipped from one scripture to another, and I was listening closely to see if he read one that was changed. He ended up with the scripture about going and making disciples. Matthew 28:19
I said “yes, the Great Commission.” I thought the younger man’s head would pop off, it jerked up so fast. The older man said, “why yes.”
Then I said, you’ll notice that scripture says “be my witness, not “to witness”. We are called to be a witness by how we live and how we talk and how we treat our neighbors, not just going door to door. The younger one kind of smiled and said your are right we are called to be a witness by how we live.
Then the older one started to talk about how a recent poll showed that theirs was the largest growing religion, not Baptist like most believe. I believe I said “you mean denomination, not religion” and I asked “where are you getting your facts from, as I doubt that”. He hesitated and then started to mention some southern source.
By then, I thought this really isn’t getting anywhere. I could tell the “spin was on” with the older gentlemen. So I figured now was the time to see what he would say if I said that I was a disfellowedship JW.
So I told them.
I told them I was raised as a JW, and that demoniation was not for me. I was a disfellowshiped JW.
I told them, “Look, I don’t have a problem talking with you, but I know you probably have a problem talking with me. I’ve read the Bible from cover to cover, and I know we are all sinners and fall short of the glory of God. I know that my sins once confessed have been forgiven and that Christ died for me and I have a personal relationship with Him. I know what the Bible says about judging.”
The younger guy said I appreciate you telling us. The older guy just wanted to know if my parents lived around here. I told him my mother wasn’t living, and my father did not live in the state.
(Who knows, maybe they have to keep track now if they run into one of “us”.)
Then he said, “well if you want to come back let me know”.
(It was later that I realized, he didn’t tell me who “he” was, guess he was thinking he wouldn’t be running into me again.)
I told them “That wouldn’t be happening. I have a personal relationship with Jesus, and I know Jehovah.” Then I added, “Because you know Jehovah, Jesus and the Holy Spirit are one you know. (they are not taught that) It’s in the Bible, and the Bible tells you the truth if you read it from cover to cover not just your magazines and books.” (I looked right at the younger guy when I said that. For some reason I felt like he was the one that needed to hear that.)
I should add the older man packed up pretty quick after that.
Afterwards I thought of more that I could have said.
Isn’t that they way it always goes.
But then I figure I am only asked to plant a seed. So I planted a seed, what kind of soil it falls on and what happens next isn’t up to me.
One person plants a seed, another adds some water, another some more, and so on. If the soil is fertile God will make it grow.
When it comes to JW’s you need to plant a seed of questioning what they have been told. A seed to read the Bible to search for themselves. A seed to search for the truth.
Sometimes I need to be reminded of a few things so I don’t forget. Of memories and lessons I’ve learned. Memories I blogged and lessons learned.
Originally Posted: May, 2011
This post has been floating around in my head for at least a year now……that’s right a year, seriously. I might as well say up front, it probably still won’t come across the way I want it to, but I figure it’s been floating around in there for so long, I may need the space that this has taken up for some other things, and so it is time to just “word dump” it so to speak.
What has been floating around in there?
Gee, I can almost feel the laughter and general overall snickers that are coming through right now at that question – however, I shall laugh at myself along with you because I know that at any particular time I am completely random.
What I am referring to is Mother’s Day.
Why, you might wonder would I ponder on that for so long?
Mother’s Day has evoked many emotions in me over the years. (I suspect it has in many. It appears to seem that way to me because well, you can get some pretty strong reactions sometimes).
So….pretty much that is what I’ve been thinking about….all those emotions I’ve felt.
When I was younger, being raised as a Jehovah’s Witness we didn’t celebrate any holidays or birthdays. That is just the way it was and still is for JW’s as far as I know. I didn’t think about holidays or celebrations until I was old enough to realize and think about what “I” was missing. So, quite frankly since “I” wasn’t involved when I was younger, Mother’s Day wasn’t even in my radar. I don’t know if my Mother did anything to acknowledge Mother’s Day to my Grandmother after she converted to being a JW to marry my Father, because Mom was not raised a JW. Since Mom and Grandmom are gone, I can’t ask. I’d like to think she did, as they were close, but as Gus said in the movie Big Fat Greek Wedding “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know.”
Sigh. I’d like to know the answer to that question.
When I was around five I was taught how to play the piano by my Great-Grandmother. I have fond memories of the music played, the piano and times in her front parlor. My mother inherited not only her upright piano but much of her music as my mother was one who loved to sing. One of the pieces of music that my Mom inherited was a piece titled “Mother”. My Mom told me that she sang that piece to her mother at church one time when she was around 12. I remembered that. I liked knowing that. I sensed the strong emotional connection she had to the song along with her memories. After my Great-Grandmother’s death I used to play that and some other pieces in the basement on the old upright piano that Grammie taught me on. I know that my Mom used to listen to me playing the piano upstairs over an intercom that we had. Sometimes I would sing along with the song.
I have that old piece of sheet music. It is worn and tattered. I haven’t played it in a while, yet I can hear the words and music sometimes and it can bring back the memories of me playing it in the basement.
I like to think she heard me singing to her.
When I moved out of the house in my early 20’s, and started living on my own, started living a life that was separate from the JW’s, finding out who I was, holidays and celebrations became important for me to understand.
While I may have started celebrating holidays and birthdays, I still didn’t do anything to “upset the apple cart” so to speak when it came to my immediate family. I wasn’t “in your face” about it with them.
There are a few exceptions where I celebrated a holiday with my Mom. Mother’s Day was one. Twice she let me acknowledge that day with her. Usually, it was “you know, we don’t celebrate holiday’s”. But twice, she let me. Once was when I said I wanted to take her out to eat with my Grandmother for Mother’s Day. I picked them up and drove them to the Safari restaurant (I wonder if it is still there?) for an early dinner complete with cocktails and conversation. We spent all afternoon together. I don’t remember what we ate, but I can tell you as a struggling single person living in an apartment, that was one credit card purchase I do not regret! I would do it all over again! I can still remember how happy and pleasant that afternoon was for all three of us. I also remember Mom being particularly happy and pleased about the day.
I remember both of their smiles from that day sitting at the table.
The other Mother’s Day she let me acknowledge was close to her death. By then, Craig and I were a couple, and I remember Craig and I stopped to visit her and I took her a pink sweater. This was the Mother’s Day before she died. I had bought myself one like it in white. I bought her a pink one. I thought the pink one was more cheerful. She needed something cheerful. Maybe I was the one that needed to see something cheerful on her.I don’t know, I don’t know. She said she liked it, and after she died I kept it and the white one I bought for a long, long time.
Eventually, you realize the memories are in your heart and your head, and you can let go of some “things you’re holding on to”. I don’t remember when I gave away the sweaters, but one day I did, I didn’t need them anymore.
June ’83 My sister, me, Grandmom & Mom (Mom found out she had cancer 6 months later)
Mother’s Day after that I continued to celebrate with my Grandmother who had always been someone that I enjoyed celebrating holidays and birthdays with. She was such a blessing and joy throughout my whole life. (I’ve talked about her and her influence in one of my previous blogs here).
Becoming first a step-mother and than having babies changed the way I thought about Mother’s Day. It made me look at things differently. I was blessed to have my Grandmother with me during my early days as a Mom. She did her best to keep me grounded. She was the matriarch of the family. She was my mentor. She showed me Jesus.
I confess though, there was a time when Mother’s Day evoked a not so nice emotion
…….jealously, greed, envy.
Sometimes I would see all the hype and hoopla about “this is how it should be” or I would see friends getting treated in a way that I thought was better than I was being treated, or I felt like I was missing out on something because of my situation, and then those sinful feelings would appear. No use pretending that isn’t what those feelings are. Just plain sin.
I didn’t like it. I don’t like to admit it. But it’s true.
So then, I got to thinking, wasn’t I just back to being the kid I was again when I was little? I mean, wasn’t I making it about the “I” again?
What was the origin of Mother’s Day after all? Did or does it have anything to do with the fact of me being a Mom? Why was I thinking about me, and not about my Mom?
The history of the American Celebration of Mother’s Day began with Anna M. Jarvis remembering her mother in 1908. Anna petitioned the church where her mother had taught Sunday School for over 20 years to have a day to celebrate Mother’s, to remember her mother and in honor of peace. Her request was honored and on May 10, 1908, the first official Mother’s Day celebration took place at St. Andrew’s Methodist Church in Grafton, West Virginia and a church in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. (Check out more details here.)
Anna wanted to remember her Mom. Anna never had children of her own. I don’t see that she intended the day to be about that at all. She wasn’t thinking about herself. She was thinking about her Mom.
Now, I know there are a lot of people who love/loved their Moms, but there are just as many that don’t know/knew their Mom’s, or who don’t/didn’t get along with their Mom’s.
I hate to say know that I fell/fall in those categories…as a daughter, and as a Mom on some days.
Sigh.
I’ve read blogs about dysfunctional families, (really, don’t we all have them), where they are blasting their Mom’s sometimes, I’ve read blogs where there is a sweet appreciation for what their Mother’s have done for them. I don’t get a sense that they always get along, just that they have grown to appreciate them for the individuals they are. I have friends who don’t know who their Mom’s are, and some who know their Moms, but really don’t like them sometimes. I know some who love their Mom’s dearly. I know friends who have a relationship that can only be defined as cordial with their moms. I know friends who want a deeper relationship with their Mom, but realize that what they have is “all they will get”. I have friends who grieve for lost Moms.
I understand. I have been all these women at times.
Psalm 139:13-16
“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.”
God choose my mother. He choose your mother. For a reason. God has our best interests at heart. Does it make sense some days? No. But then we have that pesky human brain always trying to make sense of things.
I need to remind myself at times there are certain things I won’t understand. I need to trust in the wisdom of God.
Mother’s Day. It’s not about me being a Mom. It’s about my Mother.
Yes, society has hyped it up and Anna M. Jarvis herself didn’t like what society had made the day become. In 1923 she filed a law suit against New York Governor Al Smith. She was increasingly concerned over the commercialization of the day in the flower and card industry. (See related link here)
But isn’t that what Satan would like to do with something that’s done in love.…turn it back to sin..make it about stuff, greed, envy and jealously. Oh, he’s ‘good’ at what he does isn’t he?
Well, I’m choosing to make it about the love. I’m choosing to remember the good.
I know my Mother loved me the best she could.
I choose to thank the Lord for giving me the Mother that he gave me and the precious memories that I have.
qqq My Mother, probably in her early 30’s
That is what Mother’s Day is truly about – remembering to thank the Maker for the Mother he choose for you. I was blessed to have her. I was doubly blessed to have a truly wonderful Grandmother who filled that role in my life in so many ways.
Thank you Lord for the blessings you have given me in life.
Here’s in remembrance of you Mom, Happy Mother’s Day!
Here are the lyrics from my original piece of sheet music as best as I can tell:
M-O-T-H-E-R – A word that means the world to me.
Words by Howard Johnson. Music by Theodore Morse
I’ve been around the world, you bet, But never went to school, Hard knocks are all I seem to get, Perhaps I’ve been a fool; But still, some educated folks, supposed to be so swell, Would fail, if they were called upon a simple word to spell. Now if you’d like to put me to a test, – There’s one dear name that I can spell the best: –
“M” is for the million things she gave me, “O” means only that she’s growing old, “T” is for the tears were shed to save me, “H” is for her heart of purest gold; – “E” is for her eyes, with love-light shining, “R” means right, and right she’ll always be, – Put them all together, they spell “MOTHER”, a word that means the world to me.
When I was but a baby, long before I learned to walk, While lying in my cradle, I would try my best to talk; It wasn’t long, before I spoke, and what the neighbors heard, My folks were very proud of me, for “Mother” was the word. Although I’ll never lay a claim to fame, I’m satisfied that I can spell the name.
“M” is for the mercy she possesses, “O” means that I am never on my own, “T” is for her tender sweet caresses, “H” is for her hands that made a home, “E” means everything she’s done to help me, “R” means real and regular, you see, Put them all together, they spell “MOTHER”, a word that means the world to me.
Had a nice visit with my Aunt and Uncle (my mother’s brother) two Saturdays ago. Well not an actual visit. It was more of a phone visit. I just had the urge to call Saturday morning and well, did it. We talked for a good hour. My Aunt is battling ovarian cancer. Her spirits are high though, and we caught up on things, and talked about family…both living and gone.
It was a bittersweet conversation in some ways because July 5th was the anniversary of my mother’s death 26 years ago to the same disease. Since I was on speakerphone I was able to hear my Uncle’s comments too about my mother.
I never really talked much about my mother, and it was a few years ago that I realized that it was partially because I never allowed myself to fully grieve for her. Grieving for her used to involve guilt. Thinking about her death reminded me of pain. Not just the pain of losing her, but the pain from the period of my life. It was when she was fighting cancer and dieing that the the JW’s were fighting against me and in the process of disfellowshipping me.
The JW’s disfellowshipped me while Mom was still alive, and my Grandmom told me that she told my Mom she thought the whole thing was ridiculous, and that Mom shouldn’t go to the Kingdom Hall (what the JW’s call their church) when they publicly announced it; but Mom went anyway. My mother was stubborn, she wouldn’t let anyone know if you hurt her, she would hold her head up. Mom and I didn’t talk much about the whole disfellowshipping process. Dad was the one who usually had something to say to me about it, usually the one who voiced his disappointment. I distanced myself from home, because I always felt like I was disappointing them when I came home, not good enough. (Why can’t Dad’s sometimes realize saying “I’m disappointed in you” can mean the same as “you’re not good enough”?) There were some “fine-upstanding JW’s” that told me that perhaps my mother was sick because of my behavior. So guilt was with me. I visited Mom. But looking back, I used my work as more of an excuse than I needed to. I could have spent more time with her. I protected myself from the pain.
I was there though, at the initial surgery delivering the first cancer blow, at the last surgery, when they just closed her up saying they couldn’t do anything, and in the room when she drew her last breath. At my mother’s funeral, many visitors came to pay their final respects. For a while I stayed at the casket with my father and my sister and brother. All but two of the JW’s that I known growing up passed by me in silence. One or two would look at me with disapproving frowns. I wasn’t particularly greeted standing with my father, sister and brother at the casket; and when I overheard my father introduce my siblings to people and completely ignore me, I left and sat with my Grandmother off to the side. I didn’t know if anyone else noticed the whole thing, I just remember having my head down, trying to hide the tears until I could control them and put my head up again. I found out later that it was obvious to others, and my mother’s brothers were furious. So to protect myself emotionally from that pain I didn’t think about that time. Unfortunately, I didn’t think then about my mother.
I didn’t realize it back then, but God was continuing to direct people around me, encouraging me not to give up on Him. (My initial reaction to the disfellowshipping was anger against God. It wasn’t until later that I realized it was a denomination, not God that I was mad at.) Two such individuals were my Aunt and Uncle. Actually, most of my mother’s side of the family, one of my father’s sisters and one niece came to support my wedding day October of 1984; three months after Mom’s death. My father, brother and sister would not attend. My Uncle walked me down the aisle, and my Grandmother filled the shoes of my Mom. My mother’s family has always continued to love and support me.
The other part. I’ve worked through that. Parents that are supposed to love you unconditionally that don’t, well – you have to forgive them for it or it will eat at you. I didn’t tell Dad I forgave him. He really doesn’t talk to me. Forgiving people who hurt you eases your pain. Part of the process was to realize the mistakes that I did make. Accept the grace. Then the hard part…forgive myself. That took the longest time. Understanding the grace, realizing my sins, confessed, have been forgiven andforgotten. Grace – undeserved, given freely as a gift.
Sins forgotten.Pain eased. I’m not going to lie and say that sometimes it doesn’t cause a certain degree of sadness to think of memories associated with those times. However, I can say that there is no pain, no anguish. I feel a sadness for the individuals who really don’t know any better than what twisted “truths” they have been taught.
Now I can sit and talk about Mom and we can remember pleasant memories. However, I can also sit and talk about her battle with cancer and her last days. I can talk with my Aunt and Uncle about the conversations they had with her. These conversations though while sad, can still bring joy because the pain is gone.
It can be hard to explain sometimes what it was like being a JW, and why even though I haven’t been around them since I was in my 20’s it still has a subtle impact in my life. I was doing some web surfing and came upon some videos that I thought would be worthwhile sharing.
This young lady does a good job explaining why it can be particularly hard to move on when you have been a JW. There is always a piece of you left that can be painful sometimes.
I’ve been doing some Spring cleaning, and cleaning out stuff. It’s amazing the things you come across.
When I wrote my post on Hypocrisy, I wasn’t thinking about a journal entry I had written years ago, but finding it and reading it, I thought it might be interesting to post my reflections from back then. Unfortunately, I didn’t date it, but from reading the entire journal entry, the best I can figure it was written sometime in 1988. Here is part of the journal entry.
1988
I am a victim of religious mental abuse. Being the child of Jehovah’s Witnesses is giving up the term itself as a child. There are no Jehovah’s Witness children. They are only small people being taught to speak adult words with child-like voices. The saddest part of being one of these small people is the persecution that you endure from those around you.
In the kingdom hall they preach to you that if you are living the life that God wishes you to, you will be persecuted. Ironically, those that are the worst tormentors are often those that speak these words. I never felt that I was different from other boys and girls until I went to school. Until that time you feel that you are no different than those around you because you are constantly surrounded by people that are the same. Children’s playmates are all “good” Jehovah’s Witness children.
Then the reality of life is thrust upon you. You go to school. At first the truth does not become too apparent because most children are busy readjusting to the rigors of school life. In those first few hours at school, you spend time trying to learn more about those around you. As you learn more about the children in your class, you being to realize you are different. Your classmates describe the things that they do at home, the games they play, the birthday presents, the holiday happenings, the group parties, children’s parties, etc. All these things are alien and forbidden to you. Now begins the deepest conflict you will encounter; good versus evil.
Seven days a week you are taught that holidays, sport activities, pursuit of careers, pursuit of artistic talents, and those children and people that are not Jehovah’s Witnesses are worldly people. Worldly people in the sense that they are not fit associations for you to be around. You are taught that they do not know any better, that it is your duty to tell them that they are behaving in a manner that is displeasing to God. Such an emotional torment begins because you cannot see the evil in all those around you. Sure in children that are trouble makers or bullies, it is easy to label them as being bad, but those children that you like to think of as potential friends, and may even admire will always be labeled as “worldly” and as such unbecoming associates.
Any sign of rebellious attitudes, such as wanting to associate, get together with other children or play after school is discouraged by those professing to be true Jehovah Witnesses.
Such was the life that I led. I would go to school during the day, envying those children around me that had friendships, those that played in groups after school and those who enjoyed holidays that I was forbidden to. We were instructed not to salute the flag, not to stand during the national anthem, not to participate in any after school activities, not to participate in any activities which were in any way related to celebrations or holidays. That meant that we were not allowed to work on school projects, draw, sing, wish anyone a happy birthday, or show any interest in holidays. We were taught that all these things were pagan originated. If you were “caught” participating in, even in such a small thing as saying “God bless you” when a person sneezed (which was taught as pagan originated) you were made to feel guilty, reprimanded and preached to on your sins against Jehovah.
I remembered how awkward and embarrassed I would be in school. I liked to think that I had friends, but I was never given the opportunity to become friends with anyone who wasn’t a Jehovah’s Witness. The only association outside of the JW’s that I was able to participate in was when I escaped from the watchful eyes of my parents or fellow witnesses and enjoyed relatives company that weren’t witnesses. (My relatives on my mother’s side are not witnesses and we were allowed to spend some time with them.)
How I envied that joy and fun that I saw the others were having. Along with the envy came guilt. We were constantly taught that God was watching us and taking note of our actions and thoughts. We were never free to dream. Even now on occasions, some 10 years later after disassociating myself from the JW’s, the guilt will overcome me, never feeling good enough. The repetitious sermons were embedded deep in the sub-conscious.
I was always aware of watchful eyes. Having an older sister, and other witness children attending my school, any action or deed that was not deemed “appropriate behavior” for a witness was reported to the elders of the congregation. My father is an elder. Having been raised as a JW, his belief is firmly rooted. My mother was raised as a Presbyterian, but converted to a JW because she loved my father. Witnesses are only allowed to marry other witnesses. Any deviation from this is punished severely. I often wondered is my mother regretted her decision to convert. Having deceased four years ago, I cannot have an honest discussion with her about it. When she was living I did not have the courage or the strength to openly question the teaching I received.
With the onset of puberty came even more conflicting emotions. My peers were also changing toward me. When I started junior high, I met more children than I had known from grade school. Thus began my double life. To those who did not know me from grade school, or know the family, I strived to lead them to believe that I was no different from them. I would pretend to celebrate the holidays that they had, and pretend to have outside friends and activities.
When I’d get home from school, evenings would be spent with family and other witnesses. Three days a week we would go the kingdom hall for spiritual training. During this study time, children were instructed to sit quietly with their parents. All scriptures quoted would be looked up in the JW’s bible translation. Advance studying was done so that you could answer questions directed to the congregation. Children that became restless or disruptive were taken outside to be disciplined. Instructions were delivered to “train the children to sit quietly, while meetings were going on”.
The basic beliefs of the JW’s are that they are the only true disciples of God. All other religions are wrong. If you are not a JW then you are not a Christian. They believe that God will destroy all those that are not true disciples at Armageddon. It does not matter your age, race, nationality, physical condition, it only matters if you are a JW. Any family members you have that are not a JW will be destroyed. Children will be destroyed if their parents are not faithful. Only those children that are faithful, baptized JW’s will be spared.
During my childhood, they had a time for Armageddon to arrive. The year was to be 1975.
Witnesses were encouraged to sell their belongings, cash in their life insurance policies. They were instructed that they should only have enough to keep them living until 1975. After that the world would live in peace and people would take care of each other. We were not to spend needless time with hobbies, activities, careers because we would have plenty of time for that after Armageddon. They believed they would have an eternity for that. What we were supposed to be spending our time doing was going door to door preaching about Jehovah and his will. It was about trying to convert all those around us to JW’s. We were instructed that this was how we could save those we loved as our neighbors. We were instructed that when the end would come that then we would know Jehovah. That asking for God’s forgiveness at Armageddon would be too late. Even a hurried baptism before 1975 arrived would not appear to be sincere if you have been studying to be a JW.
I couldn’t have put a name on it back then when I was a child, but now I know what bothered me….it was the hypocrisy that I felt in the Jehovah’s Witnesses. It was the feeling that they were somehow better than those in the “world”. It was an uncomfortable and unsettling feeling growing inside of me of pride, and I was turning the same way. I was beginning to feel “better” than the “world” too. That people I encountered, even if I liked them, I had an “edge” on. We were told that they didn’t “know better”. It was our job to “teach them”. That’s why the witnesses go door to door; to teach and instruct, to convert people to become witnesses. That’s why they have that half-smile, the always pleasantly coached answer. They have been trained well. They feel they are the only ones on the straight and narrow path to life. Everyone else isn’t. If you don’t follow them and their teachings and their interpretations of the Bible, then you are part of the world, and thus ignorant, you just don’t know any better.
The trouble was I liked people. I couldn’t always see the difference between the witnesses and the non-witnesses. Sure, there were times when I could see a distinction I thought, like when I perceived someone as unkind, or doing something that I felt was wrong, and then in my mind I would deem them “worldly”. So growing up, I somehow got this message in me that people who weren’t Jehovah’s Witnesses weren’t like us; they were worldly, or bad. Worldly = bad. Anyone who wasn’t a witness was bad. How warped is that? I was always struggling with this thing inside me of liking what I had been told were “bad” people. Hence then, I must be bad.
You have to realize that my recollections of the teachings of the JW’s are from my youth and into my late teens. That was a long time ago. I have spent quite a long time trying to retrain my mind. The JW’s will take scriptures out of context to support their teachings, and once that has been ingrained in your brain, Satan will use that to his advantage to make you doubt yourself, frustrate you and hinder you in understanding God’s grace. I felt for years that the witnesses used a form of mental abuse, consciously or sub-consciously. It wasn’t until years later that I discovered they are actually classified as a cult, which validated my feelings. Some comfort, but doesn’t change anything when you’ve lived through it.
When I left the witnesses, and spent time with people that the witnesses called “worldly”, I saw the same hypocrisy that I felt with the witnesses. Then I doubted myself even further, and didn’t know what to believe.
Here’s the thing about hypocrisy….we can’t help it. It’s in us. It’s sin. We have to fight it. We can’t deny it. I don’t care how great of a person you think you are, whether you are a Christian or not, what denomination you are in, what religion you practice, whether you believe in God or not, whether you think you are a good person or not, you are or have been a hypocrite at one time. We all have.
That criminal…….he deserves everything he gets…….that homeless person…. why don’t they get a job….that overweight person, why don’t they stop eating so much….look at the way that person is dressed….I wouldn’t wear that….listen to what he/she just said….I wouldn’t say that….can you believe how stupid they are…..don’t they even know that….why can’t so and so help…I’ve done my part….. We may not say it, but we certainly think it sometimes. We’re better. We know more. We do more. We are more. We make more. We look better. Whatever “it” is that we think we are better at that creeps into our minds.
It isn’t something we want to admit is it? It isn’t something to be proud of. But pride is what we feel. Hypocrisy and pride, two sins hand in hand.
I think that is what turns people off against some Christians. Too many people who call themselves Christians don’t want to admit they have the same hypocritical and prideful attitude at times. Come on people let’s be real.
There was only one person who walked this earth who could say they were not a hypocrite at all in their life. And that was Jesus. He was about love, unconditional love. So everybody else needs to just get real and admit that they’ve dealt with it, have to deal with it and will probably deal with it again sometime in the future.
So one of the struggles that I’ve had to fight over the years, was that subtle mental upbringing of always judging the good vs. the bad; trying to live up to an impossible ideal, and then beating me up when I failed. Anybody else get on that merry-go-round? Remember, we’re getting real here. It really doesn’t matter which seat you choose to ride, they all go up and down, around in the same circle, going nowhere.
Just As I Am 