Sovereign Spirit
..One Woman's Path from Shameful Sheep to Spiritual Sovereignty
Chapter Five, Part Four
Little by little I began to distance myself from my family. It wasn’t intentional, only inevitable. My mother was staunchly against my participation in activities with Jehovah’s Witnesses, and would often come at me with Christian apologetic arguments over doctrines that differed between the two religions. Our already rocky relationship became incredibly strained, and, not knowing how to deal with the situation, I mentally and emotionally distanced myself more and more from my mom.
She was terrified for me, and understandably so. Christians are taught that Jehovah’s Witnesses are a cult that brainwashes new converts into joining. While its true that I was brainwashed into the religion, I was no less brainwashed into becoming a Christian. In fact, in my opinion, the southern Baptists are far better at the art of subtle coercion than Jehovah’s Witnesses.
Regardless, my mom was afraid for my life. She thought that if I became one of Jehovah’s Witnesses, I would go to Hell when I died. When I told her that I wanted to get baptized as one Jehovah’s Witnesses, she told me she would have rather aborted me than see me do such a thing. These are words that have never left me, and their sting has prevented me from having any sort of deeply meaningful relationship with my mother ever since. It is something I am still attempting to heal from.
As word got around to the rest of my family about the route I was taking, pressure mounted. I received letters from my family members and even members of Antioch Baptist Church saying they were praying for me, for my return to the church, and for me to realize the truth. Scriptures were cited, and I was pleaded with to see the error of my ways.
In my Bible studies with Jehovah’s Witnesses, I’d already been warned that these kinds of things would happen. They prepped me well, and made sure I knew what to expect from family and friends who would disagree with my choices. When reactions from my family and friends happened just as I’d been told they would, in my mind it was only further proof, of course, that Jehovah’s Witnesses were the true religion. I felt pity for my loved ones, and for a while tried to offer the teachings I’d learned in my studies. I was met with anger, disappointment, arguments, tears, and little cards with Bible verses on them. Eventually, not knowing what else to do, I began avoiding them as much as I could. It wasn’t that I wanted to push them away. I’d been a people pleaser all my life, and I simply couldn’t deal with the pain of their disappointment in me. Less contact with “worldly” friends and family was seen as a good thing anyway for an aspiring Jehovah’s Witness, so I tried not to let it bother me too much.
During this time, since I had moved back near my hometown, I finished up my Bible study book with Anna, the woman who had been my original Bible study conductor. After almost a year of study, I was fairly well versed in all things JW. I decided I wanted to get baptized. Three separate questioning sessions with different elders in the congregation I was attending were arranged. During these sessions, I was essentially quizzed on all the teachings, beliefs, doctrines, and practices of Jehovah’s Witnesses. After passing all three tests, I was granted baptism. In the summer of 2003, I officially left Christianity and became a “baptized servant of Jehovah,” in the freezing cold pool waters of the annual District Convention for Jehovah’s Witnesses.
In so doing, I broke the hearts of almost everyone who’d ever known me prior. My family members, my mom especially, were beside themselves. My decision to leave the religion I’d been raised in caused a severe fissure in the fabric of our family, and they all felt tremendous pain. It was understandable. They thought I’d joined a dangerous cult. And I had. They believed I’d been brainwashed. And I had. They imagined me suffering in Hell when I died. They looked at me with pity, and told me they prayed for me constantly. I looked at them with pity also, and prayed for them just as much as they prayed for me.
The level of disapproval I felt from my family was palpable, and, being the people pleaser I was, it was not easy to take. I didn’t know how to handle it at all, and distancing myself from them felt better than taking in and dealing with their negative feelings towards me. Since Jehovah’s Witnesses do not celebrate holidays or birthdays, (due to their pagan origins) I stopped attending family celebrations, and had less and less contact with them anyway. In time, we drifted very far apart from each other, and when we did try to visit with one another, the topics which we could discuss without an uncomfortable disagreement arising were quite few.
During the last half of 2003, after my baptism, it was considered acceptable for Steven and I to date. For us, we’d always been dating, and had been seeing each other secretly for the last year. It felt good to finally be able to be together out in the open. It was nice not to have to hide anymore. I was able to meet all of his friends and their girlfriends, and we had a nice group to hang out with on the weekends. On occasion I felt awkwardly out of place, as the girls I was spending time with had known each other their entire lives, and, being quite shy, I found it hard to fit in. But, what I cared about most was being with Steven, and I had that. I supposed that I’d develop deeper friendships with my new JW acquaintances as time passed. Dating as one of Jehovah’s Witnesses is not a casual thing. Witnesses only date with the objective of marriage in mind, and long dating or lengthy engagements are discouraged, so it was a given that Steven and I would marry soon.
I spent more and more time with Steven’s family, and quickly became attached to his mother. Everyone told us how alike we were, and she was loving and accepting of me now that I was one of them. She was like an older sister to me in some ways, and in other ways, she was like a mom. She helped fill the hole I had gaping in my heart for my own mother, whose words about my religious choices had emotionally injured me so deeply that the connection I could allow myself to feel to her without conjuring up pain was little to none. Steven’s mom and I became very close very quickly. She possessed a quiet strength, sweet sincerity, and a gentle spirit. Her company had a calming effect on me. Around her, I always felt sure everything was going to be all right, and I felt lucky to have her in my life.
I kept studying the Bible alongside Watchtower Bible study aids on my own, and kept attending meetings at the Kingdom Hall weekly. As a baptized servant of Jehovah, I was now expected to turn in field service time cards each month, which meant I had to be involved in the door-to-door witnessing work on the weekends when I wasn’t working. Even though my shyness made even the thought of going in field service a nauseating one, I was determined to be a good Witness for Jehovah. I knew that if I didn’t tell as many as I could about Jehovah, and the earth’s impending doom at Armageddon, I would be considered blood-guilty, and Jehovah may decide not to spare me on his day of judgement.
I did my best to navigate my new life as one of Jehovah’s Witnesses. At times it felt lonely and confusing. Nothing was familiar, and I missed many aspects of my old life. But, I had the love of my life by my side, and the hope of living forever in paradise lingering on the horizon. The positive outweighed the negative, I believed I was on the right track in life, and I was happy.
In December, 2003, just days after turning twenty years old, I married the boy whose soul I’d set out a year and a half earlier to save from Hell.