My Oceania: Part Three

Surrender

My past life was a big contradiction. Being told one thing, but seeing it done a different way. Certain things felt as if their very definitions went against each other. Love, for example, was said to be without limits and yet, there were limitations everywhere I looked. Who was deserving of it (no one), who received it (some, but not all). Mercy was taught and said to have been given, but each mistake was scrutinized. 

The very moment you were shown grace by an almighty power, then the real war had begun, they told us. Be prepared for a fight, we were warned, because there's nothing more hated than a Christian. I came to find that the list of enemies was long, that it continued to grow, and eventually it became apparent that everyone hated me. Believing that because you are the "peculiar people" that you were hated only isolated a group more. There were restrictions on how we worshipped, who we could worship with, and what we were worshipping about. It was seen as a true act of godliness the more you abstained from things. Real dedication looked like giving up a lot, if not everything. Put it all on the altar. Surrender your all. After receiving salvation, it's the least you can do. 

                        
"Surrendering all" was a concept that, even in Oceania, I struggled to accomplish. I remember the many different sermons on why members were supposed to do this. The angle was usually guilt: All was sacrificed for you, so at the very least you can serve! Or shame: The widow with hardly any money to her name, she gave all. If she can give all, so can you! And then there was fear: "I wouldn't give my life to Jesus. I ran and ran until God got my attention," a personal recollection of survival of car accidents, diseases, and disabilities went, all result of the person's unwillingness to serve. 

There was the fear of bodily injury, the loss of a loved one, a depletion of all earthly assets that could be used as potential wakeup calls on where the Saints were slacking. All those things were used as leverage. Surrender and service were constant sermon points. Still, I never quite understood what it was. I knew the why, but never was successful of grasping the what. 

To me, surrender was a big contradiction itself. It never made sense. On one level it was clear; give up your hopes and dreams, entrust them to God. On another, we were taught that He would give you the desires of your heart if you're committed to him. I never quite understood how I was going to be granted a desire I had to also give up? Giving it up was more or less basically being resigned to most likely never receiving it, in my opinion. 

As a young female taught my purpose was to be a "help meet" to my future husband and a mother to raise children for the Lord, my fears were that I would be an "old maid" and barren if I didn't surrender fully and completely to an all powerful being. 

And other than your hopes, dreams, and desires what else were you giving up, surrendering over? Your autonomy as a human being. Your ability to say 'no' and to feel negative emotions about future plans of service. Sometimes your mental and physical health became collateral damage; other times, your talents and unique abilities. And the idea of who you are and what you want to be. You give it all up.

                                              
This also included submitting to those who had the rule over me—pastor, parents, older siblings, teachers, and elders in my community—true surrender meant submission to all others. By submitting and surrendering to them you are doing exactly what God expects. Truer even, if you're surrendered to God all these things will be in order. You will do this.  

If you were unwilling to do what was asked, it was obvious your will was unbroken. Something that I should have learned from childhood. Serving others is an admirable thing, no doubt about that. But in Oceania you're not serving anyone else but those on the top. The leadership. Every little thing had to be approved, every act scrutinized. They had the ability to say you weren't surrendered enough, hadn't given your all. 

In fundamentalism, real dedication and service is not to a god you've been tricked into believing in. It's not even about worship even if that's what you have truly been convinced it is about. No, it's about sacrificing who you are for what the group sees themselves as. It's about the "testimony" of your community, their reputation. And if you're as unfortunate enough to be one to bring into question them on account of your actions, you'll always be a problem. It doesn't necessarily matter what the infraction was. It could be something as dreaded as fornication or another mediocre thing like wearing too short a skirt. Simple things could cause the most guilt and brought unbelievable shame. You had failed and your selfishness resulted in your lack of surrender. True surrender would have prevented these slip ups, after all.

The more I look back and consider such teachings as surrender, the more I feel it was a sham.

Let me explain this for a moment. 

                                 
In my particular Oceania, IFB, I was taught from the beginning that there are pivotal moments in every person's life, particular hallmarks that stand out above all others.

There's the conviction period where your sinful depravity as a hell bound sinner has been revealed. This is where you are to choose the free gift of salvation or be forever damned in a lake of hell fire.

If you accept salvation and repent of your sins—the sin of being a human being born a sinner, so technically something beyond your control—then you are accepting Jesus Christ as your Savior, the mediator between your hell bound status and the possibility of heaven. You become a "Christian." This is said to be the first step, but in my opinion, it's step number two.

Once salvation has been settled then it's time to identify yourself amongst the world. Baptism by full immersion takes place. You've announced to everyone everywhere your new title of Christian. A believer. 

Next, it was taught comes surrender. This, right next to Salvation, is the most important step in your Christian life. In order to serve and serve fully, you have to submit your all, your life to God and His ways.

In IFB, "God's ways" are purely that of the pastor's interpretation. What your leader says God says goes. No questions, no confusion, no doubts. Just do it. 

We were taught you have the Holy Spirit...well, the Holy Spirit whispered and yelled in the tone of my pastor's voice; he was, after all, God's mouthpiece. But what was the Spirit's job exactly? To convict you and help guide you in the way of the Lord. Follow His leading and you can't go wrong, it was said. 

For me, salvation is where you sign the dotted line. It was my binding contract to my group from birth. I was shaped and conformed to their beliefs, standards, ideas, and future plans once I took my first breath as a screaming newborn. I was always groomed for Oceania. It had me. Owned my soul, body, and my mind. And it had me convinced I had the say from the beginning. That I had free will at seven years old making a commitment to God by accepting his free gift of salvation. 

                                               
But here's the thing...I never had the facts. And ironically, I was slipped a counterfeit like those old time preachers that waltzed in and out of my little, backwoods country church had forewarned us about, except mine was different. My counterfeit was Christianity, more factually, what I was taught was Christianity. 

Fundamentalism is not the real deal. It never was. In order to know what you are consciously signing up for, you have to know what army you are joining. I didn't. So, answer this question for me...how do you surrender to rules, regulations, restrictions, and set future paths? I couldn't and that was part of my problem. Reexamining this particular aspect has provided more clarity on confusion that plagued my existence in Oceania. Alike most things, "surrender" was just another control tactic. It was a way of putting you back in your place, ordering you to fall back into line. I was never a good solider.


 Photos courtesy: Mindfulness Association, sojo.net, Bruce Gerencser, Wikipedia