Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Leaving, Part 3

The long and the short of it is that I came back to teach at BJU after four years away. Parts of the story felt miraculous. I was quite sure God was at work, opening doors. I signed on to become a graduate assistant and then the position at the BJA opened up. Come August, 2002, I found myself living in Greenville, SC, with a faculty sticker on my car. How ironic! I couldn't be a graduate assistant, but a faculty member was just fine.
During the two years I taught in Hawaii, I had gradually turned into a diehard Christian fundamentalist. I listened to only classical, BJU productions, and The Wilds. I played the piano for my church, all hymns. My dress standards kept getting more and more restrictive. I diligently observed my morning Bible reading and prayer time. I could check all the boxes. I was a good Christian. And because my pastor vouched for my change of heart, BJU was willing to bring me on staff.
I spent the first three years at BJU living my life more restricted than the rules required. I remember commenting to a friend at one point, that the rules didn't bother me. They were set "looser" than I cared to live anyway.
I look back on those days, wondering at how I conducted my life. One of the driving forces behind my choices was my desire to escape the label of "rebel." Anytime I questioned the rules, that label had been slapped on me. Eventually, anytime I spoke up, the label was slapped on me again. I had been labeled so many times that I believed it. I felt worthless. No one I knew was accepting me. In Hawaii, I found myself slowly releasing any questioning or desire to speak up. Everyone was pleased. And BJU hired me.

Saturday, May 24, 2008

Happy Things

New plants along the edge of my collapsing storage barn. All I need now is a red bicycle to lean against the barn.



Foxgloves growing next to my screen porch. A round bumble bee is almost always bouncing in and out of the bell-shaped flower.



Pots of Herbs. Purple basil, rosemary and thyme create a wonderful scent in my backyard.



A day spent in my yard, weeding, mowing and pruning helps restore a sense of order to life. Filling pots with soil, gently tapping down the new plants.
Giving everything some water.
Trimming the wild growth around the carport, so I no longer get attacked as I get into my car.
Pruning the azalea and mountain laurel forest.
Mowing the grass.
And then just sitting back. Resting.
Smiling as the birds sing.

Friday, May 23, 2008

A Quick Sketch



KC was tired the other night. Actually, I was too, but I found that I felt more alive drawing her than I had felt all day. Grabbing a tuscan red prismacolor pencil and sketching her for 25 minutes, filled me. One of my summer goals is to spend more time drawing people. And time drawing other things, too, but people are my focus. In art school, I learned little to nothing about figure drawing. Proportions, likeness, it all escaped me. Since then, I've avoided using anything with people in my art. With one notable exeption: a portrait of Morgan in the style of Chuck Close.



Saturday, May 17, 2008

Leaving, Part 2

As I walk through the hallways of my memory, I want to pause. Breathe.

I write my story as part of my healing from christian fundamentalism. For me, these entries are times to sit down on the side of the road for a rest, take off my backpack, sort through the contents and check my map. Thank you for reading and leaving me your comments. I enjoy the company.

Returning to my story, after I graduated from BJU, I taught in Christian schools in Florida, Tennessee and Hawaii before returning to teach at Bob Jones Academy (BJA). In Florida, I taught elementary art for one year, before I was offered a job in Tennessee teaching every elective a Christian school can offer.

The year in Tennessee was full of arguments with my family. Well, maybe I should rephrase that - my mother and I argued. She struggled accepting my attendance at West Park Baptist Church (WPBC), the church the family had left because the music was too contemporary. When my family first started attending WPBC, the church was part of the community of christian fundamentalism. The pastors had attended BJU, all of the music came from fundamentalist publishers, AWANA clubs were offered, there was weekly visitation and yearly revival services and missions conferences. On top of that, the church was growing so quickly that new buildings were continually going up. Slowly, through my teenage years the leadership introduced soundtracks into the worship service. The organ was played less and less, eventually being replaced by a digital keyboard. An orchestra joined the keyboard, guitars joined the orchestra and finally came the drums. For my parents, the drums signaled the beginning of the end. In their eyes, WPBC had compromised its purity and was sliding down the slippery slope of evangelical Christianity that ends in apostasy. As a family, we were happy there. We made friends and were an integral part of the church family.

I knew that my parents were deeply troubled by the music in the church and toyed with leaving for a couple of years. One night during those years, I overheard my grandfather counseling my father to leave WPBC before he lost his other kids. My grandfather used the word lost to describe me. According to him, I was lost because I was openly rebellious. My rebellion took the form of obeying my parents' rules while arguing that they were too strict. Nothing more. The rules governed every area of our lives, including our clothing (no pants in church), entertainment(no movie theatres, one youth group activity per month), television viewing (Andy Griffith, but not the ones in color - because he lies on those shows), music choices (classical, fundamentalist christian music), and curfew (ten o'clock, all the way through college). My grandfather's counsel won out in the end and my family left WPBC.

We came home from church one Sunday evening in early January, my senior year of college and my father called a family meeting. We were told that we were leaving WPBC effective immediately. The instructions included a ban on telling any of our friends. I was furious and stayed up most of the night completing a drawing for my senior art show. The piece was called 40 Frogs, and it fit my mood. I colored hard and fast, my hand cramping, while comparing my life to the Egyptian's plague in Exodus. Two days later, I returned to BJU to finish my senior year. During that semester, BJU refused to allow me to become a graduate assistant.

Skipping ahead a year, I moved from Florida to Tennessee and began attending WPBC again. My mother felt betrayed by my choice of churches. She wanted to know what was going on at the church, but when I would tell her, she would get angry. Sundays seemed to be the easiest day to get into an argument. I don't remember the arguments being over anything substantial, but my mother was hurt by them and she eventually asked me not to come home for Sunday dinners. The school I was teaching at decided to switch to a computer based curriculum. All their teachers were terminated at the end of the school year. Little did I know that this difficulty would result in a two year stint in Hawaii and rebuilding the relationship with my family. Funny how 5,000 miles makes family bonding so much easier.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Leaving, Part 1

How did I come to the decision to leave Bob Jones University's employment and ultimately Christian fundamentalism? I guess the answer starts with how I came to BJU and even before that with the small drama surrounding my graduation from BJU.

I was raised to attend BJU - there was none of the normal shopping around for the school that best fit the next step in life. My freshman year was paid for by the time I was a freshman in high school. So, off I went to college. Throughout my four years as a student, I would vacillate between acceptance of the rules as part of the natural overflow of my theology and a desperate fighting to step outside the cloistered mindset. My senior year, I applied for a graduate assistant position and was turned down. Turned down with no reason given. When I could finally ply an answer from my dormitory supervisor, she said that I was not loyal to the school in my music choices and in my choice of churches. Well, the music thing I could understand. It states in black and white right there in the handbook the list of acceptable music and I had routinely participated in a mail order music club. When the campus post office delivered my Cd's to my dormitory supervisor's apartment, I'd check to make sure they were the right ones. She would graciously keep them for me until I could take them home. We wouldn't want the leaven of contemporary christian music amongst our students.

The second reason I was given for being denied the Graduate Assistant position regarded the church I attended: teaching Sunday school, attending the worship service and returning for the Sunday evening service. There's a part of me that shakes my head in disbelief, I attended a lot of church! Especially, given the fact that I also attended chapel Monday through Thursday, nightly prayer meetings in the dorms, and collected enough Bible credits to have declared it a minor. Nevermind all that, what was the problem with this church? Nothing. That's right, nothing. It was on the approved list of churches (yes, there's an approved list and a black list) until I graduated. So what's the problem? The problem is that I did not return to attend the Sunday morning worship service on campus, even though the rule book specifically stated that those who teach Sunday school at a church in town may stay to attend that church's worship service. Several times my senior year I had been called in to the adminstrator's office and reminded that I needed to return to BJU for the worship service. Each meeting resulted in me restating the written rule and the administrator explaining that the rule was not valid in this situation. This church was the one exception to the rule. I still get angry thinking about the ridiculousness of the whole thing.

In the end, I was denied a position as a graduate assistant because I obeyed the written rules. It had nothing to do with my qualifications for the job. I had been accepted into the graduate program, as well as going through the interview process and being chosen as the best candidate for the job. I was frustrated and even angry. I was being punished because I was doing my best to live life as a whole person. I did what the rules asked me to do (or not do, as was the case more often than not), but I refused to sell the school my soul. They did not own me.

Saturday, May 10, 2008

Thank you

You know, I thought when my last day of employment at Bob Jones University arrived, that I would automatically rebound from my state of depression. All the stress would magically float away and I would return to my happy self. I look back to that time and recognize that I was ignorant of all that lay ahead. The last week of work, my friends and I celebrated in little ways every day. A fun afternoon and dinner was planned as the grand celebration.

At the last faculty meeting I was given a large crystal candy dish and asked if I wanted to say anything. I smiled and said, "Thank you." The others who were leaving were offered the same opportunity and they spoke in long, glowing, often tearful words of their years teaching at Bob Jones Academy. It wasn't that I didn't know I was supposed to say something - I'd actually labored over what to say for a month or so. I'd written down some ideas. Rehearsed them. And at the moment of crisis, nothing fit. Nothing, but "thank you." Thank you for what? an ugly candy dish? a slow shriveling of my spirit? a list of rules to live my life by?

I think "thank you" was the best thing I could have said that day. Thank you for the time you afforded me to walk through the ebbing of my life. Thank you for teaching me that I can suck it up and carry on through times of extreme discipline, both self-imposed and externally driven. Thank you for creating a world shallow enough and narrow enough that I have to search beyond it to find meaning. Thank you for giving me the students that no one else wanted and allowing me the joy of building bridges into their lives. Thank you for being so concerned with the externals that you didn't notice when my heart began to change. Thank you for limiting life to smallness, pettiness and meanness and renaming them as holiness, purity and love. Because you operate that way, I began to believe that life had to be something more. I read, listened, talked and read some more. I allowed myself to feel, to push the boundaries, to consider that Truth was bigger than the subtle lies you brainwashed me with. Oh, I've had to go through hell to get there. And I can't say I'm there yet. But I am journeying.

Thursday, May 8, 2008

Baggage

So, I'm slightly fuzzy from a glass of wine. I feels really good after a full day of teaching. And I'm remembering.......... One year ago, I had just finished my last day of teaching at Bob Jones Academy. I was in the midst of depression, living at my friend's house for accountability. Most nights I slept 4 hours at the most. My heart would race. I couldn't breathe. And sleep escaped me. It was a viscious cycle that would gloriously end around 3:00 most nights. I would get up to face the day with the goal of making it to the end of the school year without being fired.
Why would I be at risk of being fired? I am a good employee. In fact, my boss continued to beg me to return the following year. I could have been fired for any of the following reasons: I attended a church that used contemporary christian music in its worship, I had been to see 3 movies in the theatre while in the employment of BJU (Cars, Esther, The Nativity), I had drunk wine, and I listened to whatever music I cared to. But I wasn't fired. Somehow, I managed to fly under to radar. I'd learned how to keep my mouth shut. But living in christian fundamentalism for 31 years has left me with some pretty heavy baggage. Meet me at Baggage Claim and help me load it all onto one of those rental carts.
The first piece is light. It almost lifts itself off the revolving belt, but as I set it down, I hear that something's broken inside. Checking the tag, I read: "Congradulations, you survived." I set it aside, scanning for the next piece.
I see it careening down the ramp on the other side. I grimace waiting for the crash as it settles in with the other bags. As it makes its way towards me, I notice the other bags seemed to have been cleared out of the way. It's just my dark and heavy bag. Taking a deep breath, I grunt as I pull it over to join the first bag. I check the tag: "Depression. You'll never make it." I nod, hearing the words echoing in my head.
My third bag is quickly heading towards me. At least I think that's my bag. Did it fall in the mud? Gosh, did it get run over by those happy luggage cart drivers I always see outside my window? I reach out with both hands to pick up the bag as carefully as possible. No further dammage, please. This was my favorite piece of luggage. I tenderly set it down to join the first two. Checking the tag, I see: "Spirituality. Abused."
Turning back to the baggage claim, I see my last two pieces coming together. Grasping them quickly, I relax. Nothing lost this time. Just to be safe, I check the tags: "Loneliness. You only know the social rules for fundamentalism." and "Family. We're ashamed of you."
I can't handle unpacking tonight. Tomorrow's another day.

Sunday, May 4, 2008

Old Violins

ochre.
timbre.
dwelling throughout time.

speckled.
laughter.
reinventing broken things.

jasmine.
chimes.
tangled lengths of chord.

dominoes.
pelican.
swelling.
crescendo.
Amen.

Saturday, May 3, 2008

Attractiveness




I've been working on my altered Bible. The New Testament has been turned into drawers containing traditional illustrations of Christ. My first entry carries the title "Attractive." The artwork was created over the Genesis story of Rachel, Leah and Jacob, where Rachel is noted as beautiful and well favored. What makes a girl attractive? Is it fashionable clothes? A great smile? The perfect body? Before a child ineracts with the world, she is attractive. She is beautiful before she learns the perfect smile. Her attractiveness is bigger than her body or even her clothes. Start with her eyes. Watch, till you see her soul bubble over. An attractive woman does care for her physical appearance, but in proportion with how she cares for her soul.