Confessions of a Pentecostal Child

Every once in a while, you hear something so true, you want to step back, take a few moments, and allow it to wash all over you.  It’s that poignant - a potential game-changer.   I heard such a statement a couple of weeks ago on a podcast that I’ve recently discovered (Strengthening the Soul of Your Leadership), in which the host said, “The goal isn’t Christlikeness.  That’s the outcome.  The goal is slowing down for loving union with Christ. Out of that results Christlikeness.”

You mean all I need to do is focus on loving Him and receiving His love for me and Christlikeness will come?

This perfectly summed up the journey I’ve been on for 5+ years, which began when I realized I’d had it all wrong.  Way wrong. Although difficult to admit, I was tired of what I call “white-knuckling” my relationship with Jesus – trying to be who I thought He wanted me to be and what others told me I should be. Always falling short.  Always filled with shame.  

This journey has been intimate, difficult, challenging… and incredibly freeing.  So what has it involved? Well, speaking as one who was raised in a Christian home (a Pentecostal one at that), where do I even begin?

My dad (the son of a Methodist minister) and my mother, were dramatically saved during the “Jesus Movement” in the 70s, and as a result, our family’s world was turned upside down. They went from a ceremonial relationship with God, to a personal, intimate relationship with the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. And it didn’t stop there.

They jumped in full-on. There was no holding back.  They served everywhere they could.  My dad studied the Word incessantly.  He taught Bible studies and Sunday School. They attended every prayer meeting they could possibly attend – sometimes several nights a week. Playing with Jim and Tammy Baker’s kids, Tammy Sue and Jamie, was my norm. 

My parents opened our home to teenagers, drug addicts, victims of abuse, those whose marriage was in shambles, the downtrodden, and the forgotten.  They now had a purpose much greater than anything they could have ever imagined. 

My mother had struggled with depression and anxiety since she was a teenager, and it came with a great deal of challenges. So when she encountered Jesus in her 30s, she was literally thrown a lifeline.  She dove into this new love affair with her Savior with complete gusto.  Her (and my father’s) greatest desire was to serve Him with their entire heart and lives. They wanted to please their God, and worked hard to learn what was acceptable as a Believer, what wasn’t, how a “good Christian” behaves, and what a “real Believer” does and does not do. This not only rocked their world…it rocked ours. It seemed like the rules were ever-changing in our household. This was seriously confusing to my then 7-year-old self.  All I knew was the standards were tougher, the rules were longer, and life didn’t seem quite as fun.

It’s funny how as a parent I know that when I desire to teach or pass something on to my kids, it can be with the sincerest of intentions, originating from a place of complete love and commitment.  However, in the process, the way the information, standard, or lesson is taken in by my child(ren) can be completely different. Their interpretation may be that I am being controlling, judgmental, or legalistic. Resentments can begin to build and misunderstanding of motives can grow. (Trust me, my kids and I have had some very honest conversations). 

I also know this from a child’s perspective, as this is what occurred as a result of my parents’ pursuit of Jesus – despite their good intentions, I took a great deal of it entirely wrong.

Looking back, I believe their passion for their Savior was interpreted by me as abandonment. They loved Him so much that I sometimes felt ignored.  While they attended Bible studies, my little brother and I had to sit and be quiet (quite literally bored out of our minds). Their desire to live a “holy and pure” life was perceived by me as a bunch of rules that I’d better follow, or else fall out of God’s good graces and favor.  Standards shifted.  Hemlines were lengthened. And two-piece bathing suits were no longer an option. Heck, I even got in trouble once for wearing bikini underwear!

Sometimes following Jesus made me really mad.

I remember being told that each time I sinned, I was crucifying Jesus all over again.  Ouch!  If this doesn’t mess you up…well, we’ll leave it at that.  Please understand, I know my parents meant well.  They were amazing! They loved us four kids whole-heartedly.  I also recognize that  I may be the only one of us kids who has created this narrative.

Regardless, I do believe that this possibly is when I started to get it all wrong…when I took on the false belief that God was always a bit disgusted and chronically disappointed with me, because I just couldn’t measure up - no matter how hard I tried.   

Don’t dress provocatively.

Don’t speak up.

Have a gentle spirit.

Don’t have your own opinion – adapt the opinions of those who are older and wiser than you.

Don’t dance.

Be careful what you expose yourself to through TV, movies and books.

Read your Bible every day and don’t question anything in it.

Don’t swear.

Don’t be rude.

Put your own desires aside.

Learn how to sew, bake, and keep a clean house (literally).

Don’t smoke.

Don’t drink.

Absolutely no tattoos.

NEVER, EVER listen to rock music.

And for goodness sake, keep your questions and doubts about God and faith to yourself!

Although I honestly loved Jesus, I always felt like I was white-knuckling it.  Honestly wanting to be good, but constantly coming up short. Being “Christlike” wasn’t fun.  It was isolating. And I felt my parents just didn’t get it.

Several years ago I was in a worship service when someone stood up to point out how much Jesus loves us. They made the comment that oftentimes when our earthly father either fell short, failed miserably, or perhaps wasn’t even around, this can be a concept that is difficult to understand.

That particular day, I remember thinking to myself, “I had a great father.  I know he loved me.  And God, I know that you love me as well. This doesn’t apply to me.”  But no sooner had I put a period on the end of this thought, when I heard (almost audibly) from God, “Yeah, but you think I’m disappointed in you.”

He really does know everything.

Suffice it to say, this encounter began an incredible journey of understanding and really truly believing (not just in my head, but in my body, soul, spirit and heart) that Jesus loves me…just because He loves me.  I don’t have to perform or impress. I don’t have to follow a zillion rules.  I can even wear a two-piece bathing suit and have a glass of wine if I want to. He loves me regardless.

And get this…He’s not constantly disgusted with me either.

So going back to my opening thoughts…the goal isn’t rules, behavior, or even Christlikeness. That’s the outcome.

The goal is a loving relationship with a loving Father, who loves us, because He loves us, because He loves us.  He just does.  It may not make sense. I mean, how could He not struggle with our shortcomings?  But once again…He loves us just the same.

In fact, there is nothing you or I could do that could make Him love us less or more.  He loves us infinitely. Without reservation. Without conditions.  Without disappointment.

So if you find yourself frustrated or overwhelmed with trying to be Christlike…don’t worry about it.  Just sit with Jesus.  Love Him and allow Him to love you back. Don’t rush it. Take your time. Quit trying to perform.  Stop attempting to be perfect. Realize that He’s with you every moment of every day.  You bring Him great pleasure.

Even if you wear a two-piece bathing suit.