My Cross To Bear

At the height of my belief I was invited to a 2 night 3 day reatreat by an old friend from high school. He knew that I had left Wicca and had gone back to Christianity 3 or so years prior. I'd always liked them, and wished we were closer, so I went despite some hurdles.

I worked third shift, and so to be up during the day would be a challenge, but I was up for it. I arrived, and found out another of my good friends was going, so the trip was looking to be great. We weren't allowed to have anything that kept track of time. When I needed to check my blood sugar, I checked it, and the staff alerted me of key times where I was required to check my sugar. So, I had a better sense of time than other newbies did that weekend. We were told that we'd be taking a break from the real world and be stepping into some time with god. Time seemed to slow, stretching strangely as the hours passed.

I noticed the staff all wore the same crucifix necklace, a simple little thing, but I instantly wondered how I could get one. The staff all seemed to be singing, and joking around with each other, clearly a community of co-believers and friends. I also wondered how I could have that.

Our activities consisted of meals, praise & worship, some downtime, but largely it was listening to emotionally charged stories by the staff. There were songs played during the talks. There were talks on who Jesus was, what he came to do, and his ultimate sacrifice for our sins. Some of them were easier to listen to than others.

The talks over purity culture were hard to listen to, I just didn't know the term back then. But we listened to a young girl talk about her first time and the immense guilt and shame she felt over not abstaining until marriage. She cried as she talked about how she sought to restore her spiritual purity, and how she hoped and trusted in Jesus that he would forgive her.

Saturday night was a big night. There were talks about forgiveness, and how to accept Jesus if you hadn't yet. How to recommit your life to him if you had slipped. I prayed that prayer, and asked to be forgiven again. The lights dimmed, and the Staff all left the room, and came back with brown paper bags for each of us. The paper bags contained letters from home, and from all of them. The soft-music played in the background, and I began to read what my parents had sent me.

As I read, I began to feel a swell of emotion. They were so happy I had found my way back to Jesus. But beyond that, were words of love & affirmation for me. The letters from the staff were uplifting, and potently hopeful. I felt the tears starting to form behind my eyes. I held them back, I didn't want to be seen crying in public.

But in that resistance, I observed most others full out bawling, nearly everyone I saw had tears in their eyes. As we began to finish our letters, the music changed from the soft-somber and to insanely upbeat and happy, as the doors burst open and the staff all ran in and started giving hugs and telling us how glad they are that we came, and that they hope we come back as a staff member.

And I did. I got that necklace. I participated in 6 years of that retreat, and even tried running to lead the next retreat. I stayed up late at night drinking Mountain Dew and jamming down Pixie Sticks as I wrote the same sort of letters to newbies that I had received. I was part of the retreat, and part of those cool, friendly kids. I drank the Kool-Aid metaphorically speaking.

Through the retreat, I was introduced to a fantastic program that enabled me to deepen my studies of Christianity as I made friends with a guy in the Seminary. We spent a lot of time together talking about the Bible after that. The software I learned of is The Sword Project, as I've mentioned in earlier Positions, a tool that let me examine versions of the Bible as well as download alphabets and further biblically-adjacent works. Via that tool, what was meant for the Kingdom eventually gave me the tools to examine the flaws in my faith.

The friendships I had formed there, the joy of winning another person to Jesus, it kept me coming back for a long time. I eventually had to stop attending the retreat, yet I still wore that cross and referred others to it. I wanted my children to be second-generation newbies. I'm grateful to say that they aren't and never will be.

I often think of the retreat, especially when asked why I don't trust church-camps or retreats. The restriction on time I now view as a tool to make us revert to a more dependent state, a childlike state, to know when to eat and sleep and listen to the message. But there was more.

The paper bags went out to the newbies right after a huge-ass talk on sinning and forgiveness, paired with manipulative guilt music. It wrecked us. Not just me, almost every newbie was reduced to a hot mess. Then they come in and love-bomb us, effectively. It is emotional manipulation to cement it in our minds, "I confessed my sins, prayed to Jesus, and now I feel this wonderful excess of love and acceptance! How awesome, I'm gonna do this again!"

It's clear to me now, but took years to see what it all truly was, and what I was part of.

I wore that cross from the retreat so proudly, and played my part so well. I never had it underneath my shirt, because as we were taught, one does not light a candle and put it under a barrel. I didn't worry about offending non-Christians. I didn't worry about my safety often (and so what? To die for Christ is gain, or so I believed then.) Maybe one day someone would come up and I'd lead them to the kingdom by means of the cross.

Today I wear a different cross, traditionally called Saint Peter's Cross, though most just call it an upside-down cross. I love the way it reflects. I love its weight. But bold as I am, I still struggle to wear it proudly, my area of the world is not the most progressive. Often, I wear it as boldly as I did the retreat cross. But there are times where I worry about if being seen wearing it will affect my children's relationships. Imagine, their friend's parents see the cross and my kids are awful people by proxy.

I was wearing it proudly the other day as I walked into a gas station. As I was checking out, the cashier who I will call Stevie, noticed my necklace and complimented it. "I've seen way too many of the other type today." We had a nice, short chat, and I said "I was happy to help provide a little balance."

And I truly am. Happy to be an adversary to the Other, to bear witness that there is another path. A path to both love, and self-acceptance.

Questions for Consideration

How do you differentiate between authentic spiritual (or emotional) experience — and something carefully orchestrated to push you toward a specific conclusion?

What truths have you ignored because they would cost you your community?

Have you ever received love or affirmation at just the right emotional moment that made you commit to something before fully understanding it?