In my last post in the series, I shared a bit about our move to South Carolina and our lives while we were there. These were some of my formative years, where I learned about the world and what it means to be human. It wasn’t all Toys R Us and blackberry picking though. In this post I’m going to share about my church experiences in South Carolina. Buckle up.
As I was quite young when we first moved to South Carolina, I mostly remember things that were really impactful from those times: a statement made that really affected me, a particularly joyful or sorrowful experience, etc.
One of the first things we did when we moved to our new home was seek out a church. Just any church wouldn’t do, you see. We were looking for something quite specific. We needed a Baptist church.
I can hear you now, “A Baptist church? In South Carolina? That shouldn’t be too hard to come by!”
Indeed, it was easy to find Baptist churches there. Nearly every block in every town had a Baptist church. You could hardly turn around without seeing one.
But there was a problem. These were all part of the evil leftist Southern Baptist Convention (SBC).
Ok, ok, I’m exaggerating. My parents didn’t believe the SBC was an evil leftist organization. Well, not completely.
But my parents and others of their ilk didn’t believe that a Baptist church should be part of a broader convention like this. They didn’t want anyone telling them what they could and couldn’t do or say in their church. Any kind of hierarchical structure was looked at askance. And so the very institution of the SBC was an affront to their theological sensibilities.
No, they needed an independent fundamentalist Baptist church (IFB). They were looking for a church that wasn’t governed by any hierarchy, hence the “independent” part.
And don’t get me started on the “fundamentalist” part. Actually, what am I saying? That’s like the whole reason I’ve chosen to write this blog. I’m already started on it, and I have no intention of stopping.
So my parents did their research. Somehow. (I have no idea how people found places like this before the internet). And they found an appropriate church for us to try out. I won’t name the church here, because I know it still exists, and they don’t deserve to be harassed.
I remember my first Sunday at the church. I was six. During Sunday school, I was led to a side room, to the right of the platform with the pulpit (and the American flag) on it. I was given a coloring page that went along with a Bible story. I don’t remember the Bible story, but I do remember that it was the pastor’s wife who led the class. She asked how old I was and gave me some crayons. I gripped the crayons with my fist and colored all over the paper with a complete disregard for the lines. It’s how I color to this day.
And then during the main service, we would join our parents during the songs, and then we would go down a long hallway to an annex, where we would have children’s church. Children’s church was essentially a time of singing non-sensical songs such as the ones demonstrated in the videos below.
Then we would have a message from a poor college student (usually someone from Bob Jones University), often dealing with important topics for kids, such as why the Bible should be taken literally, how important it is to obey our parents, or why we should never write Xmas instead of Christmas (It’s because the liberals want to take Christ out of Christmas).
Church would then end, and we would play outside on the church grounds for a long time, while we waited for our parents to finish talking. I’d usually give my mom my Bible and run outside to play. I remember her telling me often, “I’m not your pack animal.” I didn’t understand what she meant.
Then we would go home and have a big lunch and spend time as a family before we would return to church for the evening service. Evening services were the worst ones. There was no children’s church, nothing fun to do. The kids had to sit with our parents during the whole service, even sermon time! When I was small my mom would give me coloring pages or books to keep me occupied, but when I got older she stopped, and I was expected to listen to the whole sermon. I often fell asleep.
And then there were the Wednesday night services. My parents would go to the main building and have a prayer service. How boring. We kids were lucky though. We got to go to the separate gymnasium building. There, we would have a short time of singing and a message tailored to kids. After that we would go in the gym and play organized games, such as floor hockey or basketball. Then, when the game was over, we would have free time until our parents came to pick us up. It was the best.
Yes, it’s safe to say that church was in incredibly important, integral part of our family life. My siblings and I were homeschooled, so we didn’t have many friends besides the ones we made at church. We not only attended church gatherings, but also festivals, picnics, summer camps, activities, outings, etc. Our lives revolved around church.
Wow. I just made my church sound really good. And, like, a lot of fun. Maybe I should just leave it at that and let you think that I had nothing but a positive experience at my childhood churches. Maybe I should just let you think that it was always fun, and that I had an amazing community of loving, caring people surrounding me.
And that wouldn’t be completely untrue.
But it goes deeper. Much deeper and much darker. What I’ve expressed here is the veneer that kept us all dependent on our church community. After all, it was our primary form of socializing. But you just have to dig a little deeper, strip away a little of the whitewash, and you can begin to see the cracks. What I’ve depicted here as a happy, inclusive family is exactly what those in charge would want you to see. But trust me: Beneath that surface, that shiny, loving community becomes a nightmare.
You’re going to want to follow along.
As I reflect on my formative years spent within the walls of our South Carolina church, I’m reminded of the intricate tapestry of experiences that shaped me. While I’ve shared glimpses of the laughter and camaraderie that defined our community, there’s much more to unravel. Join me on this journey as we delve deeper into the complexities beneath the surface, exploring the nuances of faith, community, and personal growth. Subscribe to stay updated on the next chapter of my story and gain exclusive access to insights and revelations that continue to unfold. Together, let’s navigate the highs and lows, the joys and struggles, as we uncover the profound truths hidden within the fabric of our shared experiences.
Coffee & Theology 