(February 26, 2016 at 1:24 pm)drfuzzy Wrote:(February 26, 2016 at 12:56 pm)Old Baby Wrote: Growing up in Pentecostalism, I believed that being baptized in the Holy Spirit with evidence of speaking in tongues was not only legit but important. My problem was always that I didn't want to look like a fool doing what those other spirit-filled fools were doing, e.g. running the aisles, crawling/crying, dancing/screaming. I was told that this was my pride and that I would have to give this to God, so I tried. I REALLY tried to speak in tongues and actually worked myself into an emotional state, but no tongues. I was really depressed over this and talked to the pastor who said that I just needed to open my mouth and start making noise and have faith that this was God. Then, I was told I needed to practice it every day and my language would get better. I continued in the faith for another 10-15 years, but I never tried to speak in tongues again. I was certain that this was nothing more than well-meaning self deception.
Very similar experience to mine, Old Baby. I simply COULDN'T speak in tongues . . . I knew that I was making up gibberish. I didn't have any of the experiences people were describing, none of the feelings, none of the messages from god, nothing. And I knew, even then, as a pre-teenager, that either it was all delusion - - or I wasn't good enough. Of course, I chose the latter and ran with it for years.
Between that and trying to look up "homosexuality" in a xtian school library in the early 1970's . . . here are the roots of my breaking free. I knew at the time that (at least most) of these people were lying about their experiences to look good to their peers. I saw the shame and pity heaped upon those who wouldn't play the game. I saw the pride and posturing of those who were being complimented for their stories and "spirit-filled" behavior. And I saw preacher after preacher being sent away for sexual misconduct - usually with a minor. Looking back, it's a little sickening.
That mirrors my experience in many ways. My grandmother was a spirit-filled Pentecostal who led worship and would frequently break out spontaneously in tongues and dancing. If someone else started speaking in tongues, she would yell louder to drown them out while mixing in some weeping and body convulsions. People who didn't really know her thought she was some kind of a spiritual giant. Being her grandson, I knew that when she wasn't speaking in unknown tongues, she was typically using her foul mouth to spread gossip and disfavor for those who she didn't care for. She was such an insecure woman that she even ran my mother down to me just so that I would like her better. She even conspired against my father, who was the church pastor, because he wouldn't let her lead worship. She's still alive but I've had nothing to do with her for the last 6 years, despite being her favorite grandson, and I don't expect I'll ever see her or talk to her again.
The thing that kept me believing was really my father, because even if 99% of these people were fake, I believed in my dad. I still believe in my dad's sincerity, and I think he is far more honest than 99% of the church, even if he chooses to bury his head so deep in the sand/scripture to keep from having to deal with science or admit that God has gotten smaller and smaller and more obscure for all of his attempts to get to know him.
