What Exactly ARE The Things Above?

Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.

Col. 3:2 (NIV)

I have always imagined that heaven is magical, peaceful, beautiful – if boring – city in the clouds. There are the requisite mansions for everyone, golden streets, and angels floating by on fluffy, white clouds. And in the middle of everything, Jesus is on his beautiful, majestic throne with piles and piles of crowns surrounding the Messiah. Millions of worshipers – with their perfect bodies – sing to the King with their perfectly melodious voices.

So, when I read in Colossians that we are to set our minds on “things above”, I wonder if this is how I should be setting my mind each day. Is this the key to avoiding anger, gossip, lying, and all the other daily temptations? Does it work? How do I live in the here and now while my mind is set on Heaven?

I don’t have the answers, but I do know that what I have been doing is not working. Someone at bible study asked the question: would the way we live change if Jesus were physically present. Yes, of course, we all agree that if we could SEE Jesus at all times we would live a lot differently. So, I am trying something new: a physical reminder of things above, of Heaven.

I’m wearing a necklace called Heaven (from Premier Designs). It has the key to Heaven, a door with a keyhole, a crown of pearls on one side and multiple colored gemstones on the other, one of the charms has a golden cross on one side and a golden road on the other, and the last charm says “Rev. 21: 18-22”. This physical object that I’m wearing is my way of reminding myself often to set my mind.

What do you think Heaven will be like? And, how do you “set your mind”?

These are not rhetorical questions. I really would like to know what others think and do.

Endless Life: Feeling Trapped

Note: I've been on hiatus from blogging for a while, but I am working on a few new entries. Thank you to anyone who might still check this blog :)

*****

At age 20, life can drag on and on. Actually life can drag at any age, when a person feels trapped.

“But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day.” – 2 Peter 3:8 (NIV)

When I was seventeen, the decisions of two individuals caused my social life to end within the FOC. Of course I realize that my own decisions, words, and actions over the months and years prior to this time led up to these little shunnings. But although I had said and done some stupid and hurtful things, I hadn’t committed any “unforgivables”. I just wasn’t lucky enough to be born at the right time, or into the right family, or whatever. The fact was I had suddenly become a pariah.

So for three years I lived in a state of essential, though unofficial, shunning. Almost nobody talked to me, except this one guy, J--, who verbally assaulted me every chance he got while everyone mutely watched/listened. For three years I went to the social events and talked to virtually nobody. Toward the end, I talked to a few other similar pariahs, but I never had a chance of social success after those two people decided to destroy me.

Those three years were an eternity. Can you imagine? Three years of attending church services twice weekly, without being greeted or spoken to, or in any way acknowledged. Three years of attending dances and home parties and decorating parties while being invisible. Three years of having no life outside of my family and work.

But other things happened during those three years. I went to work and had a fair amount of success in this aspect of my life. I was trained in every aspect of automotive office management: payroll, accounts payable, receivables, warranties, new and used car titling, and month-end reports. At age twenty, I was promoted to office manager, with a staff of older/more experienced employees reporting to me. Something else happened: guys asked me out all the time. Not FOC guys, of course, but worldly guys. I couldn’t believe that so many attractive, charming, successful men would want to date me after all the social silence I’d endured at the FOC. I didn't want to date the entire world, but it was just one more indication that the "reality" I experience in the FOC didn't check with reality elsewhere.

It came down to the decision to continue living as an invisible and unwanted recluse in my parents’ basement hoping that the years of loneliness would pass quickly and the reward (the possibility of salvation for all that sacrifice) would be real or bolt into unknown territory. Was this seemingly meaningless existence even worth it?

The Power of Words: The Other F-Word

Many people think I’m weird about words. “It’s just a word,” a counselor friend declares – attempting to convince me that it’s fine for children to curse. I don’t agree. Even while teaching adults, I often stopped students in hallways and common areas who were dropping f-bombs to let them know that educated people should have attained the use of a broader vocabulary than f-ing this and f-ing that. It simply makes people sound ignorant, in my opinion.

When it comes to my children, I’m even more vigilant about what they can hear, because what goes in may eventually come out. With my oldest, I managed to prevent him from even hearing the f-word until he was ten. That wasn’t easy to do. It meant heavily restricting his movie-watching, friends, and most-importantly: where he went to school (private Christian school). Then one day, it happened. I left him with a trusted sitter, someone I’d known forever and trusted. She, apparently, thought nothing of saying it in front of my kid. And he came home and proudly repeated it. Theory confirmed (what goes in comes out).

But the real f-word is much more dangerous, in my opinion. The word is “fool.” I remember the first time I heard someone use the word – in seventh grade as we were heading for our after school buses, a worldly kid shouted at another boy, “You’re a fool!” A felt icy cold air around me. I felt certain that boy had just signed himself up for hell.

But I say unto you, That whosoever is angry with his brother without a cause shall be in danger of the judgment: and whosoever shall say to his brother, Raca, shall be in danger of the council: but whosoever shall say, Thou fool, shall be in danger of hell fire.
- Matthew 5:22

When I was around fifth or sixth grade, some of my peers started using the word “idiot.” When my folks heard us kids using the word, they put a stop to it, pointing out that idiot is synonymous to fool. I later came to realize that most insults are also synonyms of fool. So are there any safe insults to hurl at people? Is this the point of Matthew 5:22? Don’t insult people? Don’t call people names?

Although, I’ve overcome my past enough to realize much of what was taught and widely accepted was not biblically accurate, I’m still terrified of words like fool.

And worse than fool, is the taking of God’s name in vain – which, to my mind, I confuse with blasphemy. Maybe I’m incorrect about that, but I figure it’s better to be safe than sorry. Truthfully I’d prefer to hear the f-word a million times than to hear someone take God’s name in vain.

What do you think about the power of words? Harmless or very potent?

A Picture in Words #wordle #WordCloud

Dear Readers,

During the month of November, I have the custom of posting my daily gratitudes on Facebook. I will share some of them with you next weekend, but for today - here is a word cloud of some of the most common words I have used in the past few months on my blog: 

I hope you will all have a peaceful Thanksgiving this year. I would love to hear something YOU are thankful for today.

A Little Ugly Truth About My Book and Blog

I started blogging over two years ago and, until this past week, haven't missed a week. It's been two weeks since I posted a blog and that one a guest blog. The week before was a republished article.

The truth is, I'm just not feeling it these days. I finished my book a year ago and haven't touched it since. So, it's not exactly finished-finished. It was finished enough to pass as an MFA thesis. It was approved by much better writers than me. It went through professional edits. But, it isn't in the condition I want it to be.

And all that kind-of stinks because I have an agent waiting to read my book - and I don't want to hand it over. I want to fix dozens of things (yes, I have a list) and add several scenes. But, without the 30 pages/month requirements I once had, writing tends to fall to the bottom of my to-do list.

I'm letting my dreams slip away. It's depressing and overwhelming and even embarrassing.

Most people have long since stopped asking me about my book. So, in case anyone out there is wondering: my book hasn't changed in a year. It's sort-of finished. Good enough to earn a terminal degree and qualify me to teach undergraduates. But not good enough to show the world.

And that ties in with this blog - I won't publish excerpts of my book here because that's a rip off to anyone who eventually reads the book. 

And I'm a bit weary of writing about the Followers. Honestly, they bore me. What's left to say? I'm tired of hearing from community members (and current members) about them sneaking their children (and themselves) to medical clinics. Good for them for doing the right thing. Bad for them for being too chicken to admit it. We're all hypocrites in some way, I suppose.

I'll write something next Sunday. Probably.

Day 16. Someone or something you definitely could live without #rejection #shunning

There are plenty of “someones” I can live without. I realized that when I was eighteen years old and nearly 100% of the someones I was “permitted” to associate with really wanted little or nothing to do with me. I discovered it again when, at age twenty-one, I married outside the FOC, and everyone I had known or loved up to that point shunned me.

So, to answer this question, let me just say this: I can live without ANYONE who would shun me or cut me out of their life. That’s it. And guess what? As much as I want people in my life, I’m not going to cry myself to sleep over people who clearly despise and hate me.

Child-Free Mother's Day

Today is Mother’s Day, but we’ll be celebrating my son’s birthday. That’s okay with me. We celebrated Mother’s Day last night with a nice dinner at Red Lobster – and left the kids with a good, responsible mom friend. One of our invited guests questioned the “no kids” clause on the invite: why no kids? It’s Mother’s Day.

Wouldn’t you want to spend Mother’s Day with your kids? Well, I have so many answers for that. First, it’s the way I was raised. It was a Follower tradition for parents to have a child-free day on Mother’s Day. Teenage girls were asked to babysit so couples enjoy the day with other couples – or alone. It was always a privilege to be asked to watch someone’s children on Mother’s Day.

It’s nice for us moms who spend the rest of the year catering to the needs of our children and families to have a nice dinner that we didn’t have to prepare. It’s nice to not worry about cutting up food for little people, wiping their faces, dealing with picky eaters, or being outnumbered. It’s a treat to have a grown up conversation.

Do I want to spend Mother’s Day with my children? Of course I do! I became a mom the week of Mother’s Day and this day will pretty much always belong to my firstborn. And there’s nothing I love more than to see my children filled with excitement and joy.

To all the mothers, mothers-to-be, empty-nesters, and especially moms who have lost children: may your day be filled with peace, joy, and blessings. And, a special shout-out to the person who has loved me and cared for me more than any other mortal person: happy mother's day Mom!

VLOG: Most Embarassing Memory

Last week I published my first VLOG about my NBA pipe dreams. It was too long and repetitive (according to my mom) and had some shaking and lighting issues (thank you to the pros who left constructive feedback). So, in publishing a second attempt, I hope to show some improvement. This one is under three minutes, so it's a quick view. Please leave me feedback so I can continue to improve.

I told you mine; please tell me yours (by commenting below)...

Why Are You So Bitter?

Bitter: adjective. Characterized by intense antagonism or hostility. 

(dictionary.com)

In the past seventeen months (since I began this blog), I’ve been accused of being bitter more times than I can count. I’ve come to realize that this is the go-to insult for people to use when they can’t win an argument. And, really, I don’t want to argue with anyone. But I will try to explain my feelings about the Followers.

1. Sympathy. This is my primary emotion when I think of this group. I feel sorry for young women who are made to feel that they are insignificant. For teenage girls who have to wait in a corner for some boy to deem them worthy of a dance or date. Outside of that group – guess what? Girls and women do the choosing. Yes, that’s right! They don’t have to ask boys out (and most do not), but they select who they will go out with – because for every girl, there are several guys vying for her attention. I feel sorry for young women who are born with brains, but advised to downplay their intellect so as to not intimidate boys. I am sad that you do not have the option to go to college. I feel sorry for the young women who marry at age seventeen (often dropping out of high school for this event) and start having children so young. It makes me sad to think of the women there who are living with domestic violence (no – I’m not saying all men abuse their wives – but enough do and there is zero support for the victims).
2. Responsibility. When I learned the GOOD NEWS of Jesus Christ, I felt so shocked! Jesus loves me? Yes! (But, I’m so unworthy). Jesus loves all of us and wants us in heaven. He made it easy for us. I wish someone had told me years sooner. I know how hard that is to accept when you come from the FOC. I thought it was ridiculous! I fought accepting this truth for months, but someone cared enough to persist in praying for me. When I told my family that I’d become a born-again Christian, they tried to disprove that a person could KNOW that they are saved.
3. Nostalgia. I miss some of the people I grew up with. The people I love and care about now would never shun me. But I would love to catch up with some of the people who were, during my formative years, central to my life. I also miss all the great social events and structure: all the support for the sick, grieving, and celebrating.

I never expected to write about this group. I was terrified to do so, but I cannot explain the feeling of freedom that I’ve gotten from doing so. I still feel like a Follower in so many ways though. I would never call someone a “fool.” I would never take God’s name in vain. I would never use the words, “I swear.” Some people say these “nevers” of mine constitute legalism. But, I don’t care – these are values that are important to me. Why disrespect God? I do not want to hurt anyone. And I hope and pray that my words will do more good than harm.

Still think I’m bitter?

Perpetual Student

I've never been happier than when I'm in school - both in front of the class and sitting in one of the seats. Teacher or student, school is my happy place.

I wanted to go to college as a young adult. I told my then boyfriend that I wanted to go to Clackamas Community College after high school. He was baffled. He said all he wanted from life was to go to work, come home, eat dinner with his family and watch television. I was baffled by that. That sounded terribly boring (as a sixteen-year-old). I can appreciate the simple life now that I'm older and have children of my own. But I still love school.

After high school, I enrolled at CCC as a full-time freshman. I didn't tell people at church though. I knew that college was viewed as unnecessary at best, and more likely dangerous. My parents told me to forget college - it was no place for a girl. It would turn me into an atheist. It was a waste of money to pay for college when I was just going to be a housewife. 

I finished one semester of college, but couldn't afford any more school and really didn't have the fight in me. Instead I went to work - and I really enjoyed working in the business offices of car dealerships. By the time I was twenty, I was promoted to Office Manager. But I still wanted to earn a college degree.

After I left church, I went back to CCC and earned my Associate of Arts degree in one year - summer included. I was a straight A student - the one who always sat in the front row and spent hours every evening on homework. I went to Portland State and earned my Bachelor of Arts degree two years later. I thought I was done. I never dreamed I'd get into graduate school. That was beyond reach, I believed.

But in 2005, I earned my first Master of Arts degree. I'm now in the last few months of another graduate degree - my Master of Fine Arts in creative writing, and I know that I'm not finished. I am already looking into PhD programs. And, even if I need to wait a few years to begin the  next program which will finally earn me the right to put a "Dr." at the front of my name, I will enjoy my work teaching undergraduates, in the meantime.

I’ve figured out why I love school so much. I spent so much of my life in a group without an elder or leader. There was nobody with definitive answers. Nobody to give us hope or explain the big questions of life. I’m still looking for guidance – a chief or elder. Someone with the answers.

            I am looking for truth.

How I Feel About My Book

I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate that it makes me cry to relive bad memories. I hate that it makes me cringe to tell about the stupid mistakes – big and small – that I’ve made. I hate that it brings back feelings of resentment toward certain people; people I have tried so hard to forgive – and certainly forget – are brought back to life in the pages of my book. I hate that it is documented proof of my sinfulness. And, I’m so tired of rereading it and rewriting it. I can’t wait to move on.

I love it. I love it. I love it. It is a major accomplishment to have written my first book - a lifelong dream. I have worked hard on it. It is cathartic to have worked through issues from my past.

I worry about it. A lot. I worry about the reactions of the people I know and love when they read it. I worry about my kids reading it someday. I worry about hurting people with my words. And I worry about how people will judge my life.

But in the end, it is what it is. I have changed the names of the vast majority of people in the book – even my own family members. If people judge me for my decisions, that’s okay. I can live with it. If someone is a true friend, they will stand beside me, despite my imperfections.

I will continue to blog and will begin a new book as soon as I’m finished editing this one.

Thank you for reading.

What’s with the Name of this Blog?

Well, this is a blog about faith. And what is faith? It is believing in something that you cannot see, touch, or hold, but you KNOW it’s there.

I know that air exists for two reasons: one is that I’ve been taught about air and can read about air in textbooks, and the other one is that I have personally experienced air.

Many people think that the Followers of Christ are a bit strange to live in our modern times here in the United States and practice faith healing. But, if you ask most Christians, they will tell you that they also believe in and rely on faith to heal, when necessary through the help of medical intervention.

Just like I have faith that air exists, without seeing it, I know that God exists. Like air, I have heard about God, read about God, and felt God’s presence. I cannot see God’s face, but I can see God’s creation.

Just a few days ago, I stood outside staring up at the evening sky – a beautiful cerulean with perfect patterns of fluffy white cotton ball clouds. I called my kids outside, and soon several others in the neighborhood came out to see what we were looking at. I love looking at the sky and admiring the world God has created for us to live in. Clear night skies are my favorite. I feel God’s presence at night when staring up at the stars.

An important point I want to make is that I’ve read about a great deal of things that millions of people have faith in, but I do not. The list include: crop circles/alien sightings, the Mormon story, the Lockness monster, Bigfoot, the Big Bang theory, and many more. I’ve read about these things and heard about these things from reliable sources: textbooks, the Internet, documentaries, and hard-core believers. And yet, I have no faith in any of them. Unlike air and God, the “evidence” does not convince me.

So, does air exist? Does God?

Name explained.

Keepsakes From the F.O.C.

I have a lot of good memories from my childhood and young adulthood with the Followers. I also have several momentos of this time in my life - mostly in the form of photographs, which would upset far too many folks if I published them. So, here are some objects I've held onto throughout the years:

Medical Abstinence Alert Bracelet:
"Suzanne M. Shumaker, Route 2 Box 380, Beavercreek, Oregon
632-6736, FOLLOWERS, Kin - Alton C"

In 1986, when church services were reduced to the singing of 10 hymns, church women got together to craft these lovely personalized song book covers.

I wasn't supposed to decorate my book...

A Song Book without a cover

Mom wrote down the key Bible verses that our church followed and other "worldly" churches disregarded, that White pointed out - such as the Holy Kiss and the Signs of the True Believer

 

My favorite souvenirs - church cookbooks. There are some delicious recipes in these two books - love the chicken pot pie from the 1989 book "Recipes from Friends." 

What is Hell Like?

When I was growing up, I heard angry adults curse others using this statement: Go to Hell! I heard adults telling others that so-and-so were going to Hell. I heard it preached from the pulpit even - those who leave our group are going to Hell. Scary.

I don’t recall anyone ever saying these three words to me (though I've been told that people said those words about me). And I don’t believe I’ve ever uttered these words to anyone else. But, if I am mistaken about this, I am deeply and utterly sorry for having said it.

Now that I’m “out in the world” there are many more ways people – most of whom do not even believe in Hell – curse each other. I’m sure you can imagine the expletives, so I will not bother repeating them. But the worst thing a person can say, in my opinion, to another is “Go to Hell.” It’s unthinkable. I do not want to go to Hell, and I do not want anyone else to go either.

I am terrified of Hell. It's a terrible place, the worst place any of us can imagine is better than Hell. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.

Where is Hell?

Do you wonder where Hell is? Scripture implies that Hell is located at the center of the Earth:

For as Jonas was three days and three nights in the whale's belly; so shall the Son of man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth.

Matthew 12:40

What is Hell Like?

And the devil that deceived them was cast into the lake of fire and brimstone, where the beast and the false prophet are, and shall be tormented day and night for ever and ever.

And I saw a great white throne, and him that sat on it, from whose face the earth and the heaven fled away; and there was found no place for them.

And I saw the dead, small and great, stand before God; and the books were opened: and another book was opened, which is the book of life: and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works.

And the sea gave up the dead which were in it; and death and hell delivered up the dead which were in them: and they were judged every man according to their works.

And death and hell were cast into the lake of fire. This is the second death.

And whosoever was not found written in the book of life was cast into the lake of fire.

Revelation 20:10-15

* * * 

And shall cast them into the furnace of fire: there shall be wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Matthew 13:50

Hell is eternal suffering and punishment. No rest. No relief. The worst kinds of pain inflicted upon you day and night for all of eternity. Terrible.

It has become a popular theory to say that Hell is not real. That our lives on this Earth are already “hell.” Many folks will say “how can a loving God and Father inflict this on his creation?” It just can’t be real. But, I believe that it is real. I believe that souls are eternal and each person makes a choice of how they will spend eternity by the choices they make.

Here is what some of my friends think about Hell:

        “It’s whatever you hate the most. If you hate annoying conversations, that’s your eternal destiny.”

“Being separated from your family and those you love.”

“Utter despair, fear, and darkness because it is complete separation from God. No cliches... No pitchfork or scales. Just utter despair and fear because of complete absence of hope and joy.”

“Reliving mistakes, forever, without being able to change them.”

“Unquenchable heat, thirst, pain, anguish...”


"The absence of God"

“Realization of missed opportunities and wrongs you have done others.”

“Permanent death of the soul and no memory of that soul with the living. Everyone wants to believe they will always exist but no life exists apart from the sustaining power of the creator.”

“When I think about Hell, I picture the scene from the movie “What Dreams May Come” with Robin Williams”

“I think of Dante’s Inferno”

“After I hide from God for my sins and let the rocks fall on me then stood before God ashamed and broken, then It would be dark and cold filled with demons that Lear at me while I toil burning and in pain filling the ever burning fire"

I asked my old schoolmate, Chad Smith, to create a scene of Hell, from a description of my worst nightmares – eternal torment, the lake of fire, skin melting off, demons and Satan. Here is what he came up with:

Illustration by Chad Smith who Tweets at @MrNoodle

It’s too easy to dismiss Hell as not real. It’s not a pleasant thing to think about billions of souls in eternal torment. But, if Jesus is real and God is real, then Hell is too. I think people who don't believe in Hell or who have never feared Hell cannot fully appreciate the gift of Jesus' sacrifice for our salvation.

Recommended reading: A Divine Revelation of Hell by Mary K Baxter 

Recommended listening: Sinners in the Hands of An Angry God a podcast of the preacher Mark Dever delivering John Edwards’s famous 1741 sermon.

I'm interested in knowing what you think Hell is like.

Watch Your Fingers & Thumbs

Abstain from all appearance of evil.

1 Thessalonians 5:22

On Sunday's post about unconditional love, I posted a recent family picture. Because one of the members of my family requested that I take it down, I honored that request, but not before a reader noticed that I was supposedly flashing a "devil horns" hand signal.

Because I am not familiar with this particular sign, I had to do some research to understand what they were talking about. Most folks know that the hand sign posted below is sign language for "I love you." I do this with my kids all the time so I don't have to yell out embarrassing things that will make their friends laugh at them like, "Mommy loves you."

I Love You

But, I have found out that if you tuck the thumb away, the hand signal becomes "devil horns" as shown in the picture below. The devil horns are a popular sign in the Heavy Metal music culture. Now, I love all kinds of music - Country and Western, but I have never willingly listened to heavy metal. I don't like screaming "music" and I don't understand the lyrics. So, it's not surprising that I was not aware of this Metal music phenomena.

Devil Horns

 So to set the record straight: thank you Mr. Anonymous for introducing a new concept to me and the readers of this blog. It was something I didn't know about. And now it's something to watch out for: don't flash the "I love you" sign without your thumb!

Now for clarification, please check out this slice of the original photo, just showing me. You will notice that my middle finger is tucked into my pants pocket, my little finger is sticking out - something it tends to do, and my pointer and ring fingers are also out. I'm not sure if that is some evil sign - pointer, ring, and pinky fingers out, thumb and middle fingers tucked in; but, I am sure it's not a "devil horn."

Sunday Night Parties

Old Church Building
Where the Dances Were Held Until 1999

Our church had dances every Sunday night during the school year that we called the Sunday Night Party. There were several bands, made up of teenage boys and adult men. The bands were good - they played old Rock and Roll and Country music.

Girls had to be thirteen to dance and boys had to be fourteen. At the dances, the girls would stand in one corner, the boys would stand or sit opposite the girls. Boys would come and tap a girl on the shoulder by way of asking her to dance.

Once or twice a year the twelve-year-old girls and thirteen-year-old boys would be invited to dance lessons in the old church building. When I was there, dances were held in the old church - they are now held in the back of the new church sanctuary - an addition was added to the back of the church about the time I left church (late 1999-early 2000) because the fire code did not allow for the amount of people who crowded into the old building for special occasions.

Front of the New Building

Every other Friday night, year round, young virginal couples could marry at church and a dance would follow the wedding. Nearly every special occasion featured a dance as well: Halloween (with full costumes), Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years (all night until 6:00am), Valentine's Day, Easter, and our own version of Prom. The special occasion and weddings were events that often included dates afterward. Boys would also ask girls out for "carloads" after the Sunday night parties - where a group of kids would go down to Shari's and eat snacks or dessert.



For a while I loved the Sunday Night Parties, for the first few years. But as I got older, I came to hate them. I hated waiting around for a boy to ask me to dance. I hated that when the band would call out "Ladies' Choice" the boys would go outside to smoke. I hated getting dressed up only to be rejected. I especially disliked the expectation that I would continue to go to these teenage events after I was eighteen, nineteen, twenty. There was just no place to fit in for a young adult who was not married or engaged.

Back of the New Building
Where the Dances are Now Held

In the Idaho FOC, there are no dances. Couples do not even get married at church. Most of the members do not believe dancing is an appropriate activity - quite the difference considering the Oregon City group originated in Idaho. The young adults in Idaho do socialize with each other, but the church doesn't keep them nearly as organized and scheduled as in Oregon City. I'm told they also associate with people from outside the church and can marry whomever they choose. 

Is Rebaptism Biblical?

As much as I enjoy exploring religious topics and learning about the history of the Christian church and its myriad sects, I am far from being a biblical scholar or theologian. Please keep this in mind as I explore the important and controversial subject of baptism and rebaptism.

The Followers teach that only a very special man can perform biblical baptism. The man must be “called” by God to be a preacher. The calling comes about in ways that are clear to both the newly called preacher and to other godly men who have confirmation visions, dreams, or other signs. A man cannot just say, “I’ve been called” and be accepted, it must be confirmed by others.



When I was young, I knew some older people in the church who had been baptized in other churches and then joined the Followers where they were told they needed a true baptism by a man called by God – Walter. Two of the folks who were baptized by Walter after having been baptized earlier in their lives were my uncle and my grandmother (on my dad’s side of the family). Both of them left the church after Walter died and before my birth. I'm told (and the baptism records confirm) that in the last few months of Walter’s baptism ministry, many outsiders came to be baptized, and very few of them stayed around long after his death.

So I have been wondering about this: is rebaptism biblical? Is it necessary? In my search, the first bible verse I found led me to believe that rebaptism is not biblical:

There is one body, and one Spirit, even as ye are called in one hope of your calling; one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is above all, and through all, and in you all.

Ephesians 4:5-6 (KJV)

But that didn’t address the claim that only certain baptisms count – the critical belief among the Followers that the person doing the baptism holds the key to salvation. Last December, Jerry Patton wrote a guest blog exploring the requirements for a person who performs baptisms. Who Can Baptize? 

I wasn’t satisfied with the very brief hint of “one baptism” in the Ephesians verse, so I read up a bit more and found other relevant verses. This verse, from the book of Acts, refers to some men who had been baptized by John the Baptist, and then were rebaptized by the apostle Paul, in the name of Jesus.

And it came to pass, that, while Apollos was at Corinth, Paul having passed through the upper coasts came to Ephesus: and finding certain disciples, he said unto them, have ye received the Holy Ghost since ye believed? And they said unto him, we have not so much as heard whether there be any Holy Ghost.  And he said unto them, unto what then were ye baptized? And they said, unto John's baptism. Then said Paul, John verily baptized with the baptism of repentance, saying unto the people, that they should believe on him which should come after him, that is, on Christ Jesus. When they heard this, they were baptized in the name of the Lord Jesus. And when Paul had laid his hands upon them, the Holy Ghost came on them; and they spake with tongues, and prophesied.

Acts 19: 1-6

This verse brings up another question: most churches (including, I’m told, The Church of the Firstborn) baptize “in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost” but here we are told to be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ.

Neither is there salvation in any other: for there is none other name under heaven given among men, whereby we must be saved.

Acts 4:12

I grew up believing, as I was told, that baptism is what saves a person’s soul. But as an adult, the vast majority of Christians I met outside the FOC believed that making a commitment to follow Christ, along with a prayer (the sinner’s prayer) asking for forgiveness and inviting Jesus into one's heart was what saves. As a Follower, I understood Jesus’s statement to Nicodemus in John 3:5: “Very truly I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless they are born of water and the Spirit” to mean that you must be baptized with water to be saved. While the understanding of most Christians is that being “born of water” happens to us at birth, and being born of the Spirit happens when we accept the free gift of salvation through Jesus Christ. And this makes sense; I accepted the new explanation with relief. But I have been digging deeper into scripture and I wonder about other verses such as this:

He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned.

Mark 16:16 (KJV)

I’m not sure what to make of it. In the first part of the sentence it is belief and baptism that saves; but the second half states that unbelief results in damnation. Is it possible that those who believe, but are not baptized will end up in neither heaven nor hell? And here is another verse that leads me to the conclusion that baptism is a requirement of salvation:

Then Peter said unto them, Repent, and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the remission of sins, and ye shall receive the gift of the Holy Ghost.

Acts 2:28 (KJV)

I had never realized that the New Testament refers to the baptism of Noah’s family. Here it is along with a clear indication that baptism leads to salvation:

to those who were disobedient long ago when God waited patiently in the days of Noah while the ark was being built. In it only a few people, eight in all, were saved through water, and this water symbolizes baptism that now saves you also—not the removal of dirt from the body but the pledge of a clear conscience toward God. It saves you by the resurrection of Jesus Christ,

1 Peter 3:20-21 (NIV)

In doing the research for this blog entry, I spoke to a number of fundamentalists. Two of them said that rebaptism is a sin and is recrucifying Christ. I tried to find a biblical reference for this – but found that this idea may have originated with Martin Luther (the protestant reformer who brought to light the sins and heresies of the Catholic Church). The term Anabaptist means to re-baptize, and centuries ago, Anabaptists were executed for their beliefs.



I have a lot of questions. I find that the more I learn the less confidence I have in what I “know.”  A good sign of spiritual (and intellectual) growth, I think. What do you think? Is rebaptism a sin? Who has the authority to baptize people? And, if people back in Walter White’s days were rebaptized by him, then why is it such an unforgivable sin when one of the Followers gets baptized in another church? Is it better to remain unbaptized, considering all the evidence of our need for baptism? And if God does send you another leader, can’t those people just be rebaptized?

 

Old Haunts

Do you believe in ghosts? I have personally experienced and seen beings that were not flesh and blood human – though I’m not sure if they were ghosts, spirits, angels, or something else. I was not afraid of them, and I’m not afraid of going into places that are known (said?) to be haunted.

A few weeks ago, while on a writing retreat on Star Island off the coast of New Hampshire, I attended a gathering of more than fifty writers in a small graveyard at just after 9pm for ghost stories. While we listened a few of the gathered stood and told of their own otherworldly encounters.

A fellow writer was feeling sick, but she left her Android loaded with a Ghost Radar app for us to run. I volunteered to hold the Android – curious what technology could possibly pick up of another dimension. What it picked up were several random words and three names: Mary, Edward, and Elizabeth. The next morning, I headed back to the graveyard to look for the names – there were less than thirty graves total, and guess what? There were gravestones bearing the names of Mary, Edward, and Elizabeth.

* * * * *

This past Thursday morning, I dressed in grey corduroy pants and a lightweight grey cotton t-shirt, socks – despite the July heat wave, and tennis shoes. Not my typical summer teaching apparel – which, lately has been maxi-skirts and dresses. It was the first time my students would see me dressed casually and I wondered how they’d react. I couldn’t wear a floor length skirt and high heels for the what I had planned immediately following my morning lecture. I needed to be able to move comfortably. But, considering the heat of the day, a skirt would’ve been nicer.

I left the campus with the last of my students and hurried out to my overheated car. Sweat pouffed my blow out and streaked my make-up. Oh, cursed summer, why do I even bother? My gut ached and my mind played out scenarios of being arrested for trespassing on private property. Would they impound my car too?

I hope nobody’s there. It’s Thursday, so hopefully they’re getting ready for church [at 1:15?]. Maybe there’s a funeral today.

As I got closer, I realized I wasn’t sure where the turnoff was. It had been at least 17 or 18 years since I’d been out there - maybe longer. I knew the main road and what side of the road and how to tell if I’d gone too far. I remembered the dip in the highway where cars exceed the posted 55/mph and where a church member had a fatal car crash on the way to my great-aunt’s funeral in 1992. I reached the road where my childhood home had been, too far. I turned around and found the right side road on the first try.

Despite the full power air conditioning that had been cooling me down, I felt sweat sliding down my sides. My heart beat sped up as I approached the site – and I was ready to turn around and leave when I saw the groundskeeper spraying around the gravestones. I parked in front of the “No Trespassing” sign.

I got out of the car and walked through the open gate. I didn’t recognize the groundskeeper, but he looked like he could be a Follower – short hair, clean cut. It wasn’t the same person who kept the grounds all my life – he was now buried in this cemetery.

I walked among the gravestones and saw many familiar names. My ex-boyfriend was there, and his baby son. His best friend was also there. Many girls and young women who were younger than me. Girls I’d known growing up, and guys. And then there were the babies and toddlers. I counted thirty nine little ones buried all together – those were the ones who had headstones, many had just plastic markers which were overgrown. There were at least another twenty buried among the adult graves – not counting those dating back before the 1930s when the church began using the cemetery. There are a number of gravestones from non-Followers from the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. 

It made me sad to see graves of babies from the year I was born – 1973 (it made me sad seeing all the babies' and childrens' graves). These might have been my friends had they survived. And something else struck me about that year – an irony, maybe some savvy readers will comment on it.

I spent about two hours walking among those graves. The cemetery is a sacred place in the Follower tradition. Here lies Walter White, our leader. When Christ returns, when the trumpet blows, the faithful Followers buried here will rise. I always believed that Jesus was coming back to Oregon City – either to the church building or to this cemetery to claim his faithful and judge those of us who didn’t cut it.

A few years ago my parents began talking about being cremated when they died. I was shocked to say the least. Why would you want to have your flesh incinerated when you had spent your entire lifetime in fear of an eternity of incineration? Never. Also, how could you be raised from the dead at the rapture if your body was ashes – and some people actually scatter the ashes of their loved ones. What happens then?

Of course, intellectually, I realize that a person’s burial site and the condition of their remains does not affect their final destination. But I still dislike the idea of cremation.

Un-Mormonizable

I went to school with Mormons. I didn't know it though and it wouldn't have mattered. Everyone who wasn't a Follower was a worldly person. They could worship whoever and however they chose, they were lost to eternity regardless.

In college, my United States history teacher introduced the Mormons in a way that left no doubt in my mind what she thought of the religion. The essence of her explanation was that there was a man named Joseph Smith who claimed angels talked to him and revealed new Holy Scriptures to him. He founded a new religion – Mormonism – and conveniently instituted the practice of polygamy in his religion which caused persecution and thus westward migration and the founding of the state of Utah. My professor clearly did not think highly of this religion.

Not long after that, I ran into an old high school classmate, who revealed that she had grown up Mormon, and went on to list off the names of our Mormon classmates – some very popular kids. I had no idea.

Two years later I became friends with a coworker who referred to herself as a “Jack Mormon” – a term she explained meant that she was raised in the Mormon religion but was not practicing the religion. She was a “Jack Mormon” rather than an ex-Mormon because if and when she ever returned to a faith, it would be Mormonism. My friend, we’ll call her Wendy (but that’s not her name) and I shared many coffee dates – we also shared many adult beverages, and she taught me to smoke cigarettes.

Three years into our friendship, Wendy moved to a town near Reno, Nevada. I agreed to drive down with her and fly home so she wouldn’t be alone. On the drive down, Wendy smoked her pot pipe regularly until I reached my threshold and asked for the keys. Modern day Suzi would’ve demanded the keys immediately, but my personality hadn’t developed quite so much back then.

I stayed with Wendy for a few days – we visited Lake Tahoe and had some home cooked meals. Then I took a plane back home to Portland. It was the end of our close friendship, but we have continued to correspond and have visited each other a handful of times in the years since.

A few months after her move, Wendy went through a major crisis – the nature of which is now unimportant. But her personality changed dramatically during this period. I called her one evening and noticed that there was a complete serenity about the way she spoke of the terrible things she was going through.

“How can you be so peaceful?” I said.

“When I am scared or lonely or frustrated, I just get down on my knees and talk to Jesus.” She said.

What had happened to my free-spirited, pot-smoking friend? I was intrigued.

A few weeks later, I flew down to Reno for a visit. She was living with a woman who owned a horse ranch and, in exchange for room and board, Wendy was training horses and giving individual horse riding lessons. The home and surroundings were beautiful.

The day after I arrived, Wendy and I took to the mountain and had a blast skiing. That evening – it was a Saturday night in a small town, Wendy’s host invited us out to hear some live music at a tavern. Wendy and I were both in our mid-twenties, but neither of us were drinkers at that point (alcohol never agreed much with me and Wendy had quit drinking). We sat at the bar sipping our caffeine-free sodas while the typical tavern patrons stared at us in disbelief.

Finally, a man approached and asked if he could buy us drinks. We politely declined – we still had full sodas. Then he asked if we were there with a parent. I guess there had been a big debate as to our ages and how we were in a tavern. That was a nice compliment. Wendy was a tiny girl – tall but very thin – with beautiful long blond hair. It was easy to see how people would think she was ten years younger, and I liked being lumped into the same youthful category.

We danced with some of the locals - including some Marines from a local base - to the fun country-western band and that was the night Wendy met her future husband (a Marine), though she didn't expect that outcome at the time.

The next morning, Wendy brought me to her church. Yes, she was back in the full swing of her Mormon religion. I was curious to see what it was all about.

We were greeted by two “elders” who were nineteen or twenty years old. We went into the sanctuary and sat for the sermon. I didn’t hear most of the sermon because the church members each had four or five or a million young children climbing over and under the benches and being squirrelly. The Followers had their children in church too, but parents with small children sat in the back rows and the moms took their children to one of the baby rooms if they made a peep. By the time we were three we knew how to sit still and quiet during church.

After the service, we went to a bible study group – women only. The leader walked us through a lesson that had to do with the Book of Revelation and its related explanatory scriptures in one of the Mormon books. Interesting.

I never went back to a Mormon church – it’s never held any appeal or modicum of validity to me. But I have made many more Mormon friends and acquaintances – some good and some not so much. Many Mormon friends, coworkers, and missionaries (elders) have tried to convince and convict me of the truth of this religion, but alas, I am un-Mormonizable. If Mormonism is true, I will be stuck in a lower heaven for all of eternity - unless some future generation gets baptized in my stead after I die. Either way, I'm okay with the risk.

The church experiences I've described today and last week – my earliest ones after leaving the Followers of Christ in Oregon City – were the most difficult and confusing, as I judged them through the lens of my FOC experiences. But as I got into a habit of reading scripture for myself (rather than relying on my memories of what other people told me), and began to ask important questions and actually listen with an open mind, the more I began to see that there were true believers everywhere I went - but I was not yet one of them.