On the stereotypical surface, it would appear that these two groups of people truly have nothing in common.  But in the past five years of making Paradise Recovered, we’ve discovered that there are a lot of indie filmmakers and a lot of evangelicals who are fed up with the status quo in their…er…uh…industries.

We suspect that this has a great deal to do with a greater number of people having access to technology that amplifies their voices.  Filmmakers have access to tools that allow them to make micro-budget, watchable films at a fraction of the cost of studio films.  Many Christians are using these same tools without the permission of their leaders, and they are asking questions that rock the boat come Sunday morning.

The formula seems simple:  Take new technology, add a dose of freedom and independence, broadcast it to an audience, and you have new content.

Finding audience can be a tough job, especially in the cacaphony of new voices.  But over time, voices seem to band together.  Film festivals start to become almost trade show spaces for independent filmmakers to network and share ideas, and evangelicals weary of the megachurch, mega-paraChristian organization model start to gather together in similar venues and chat rooms to discuss new ways of telling an old, old story.

Giant studios and giant church organizations aren’t necessarily bad.  We love a huge budget blockbuster now and again, and we get a pretty big thrill when World Vision sends us a letter telling us that the kids in the village we’re sponsoring no longer need our help.  Their village is self-sufficient.

But we also love going to a festival and watching a newcomer tell a story with a lot of heart and energy.  Something that makes us belly laugh.  Something that stops us dead in our tracks and makes us think.

And we’ll be forever moved by the work of those Christians taking spiritual abuse head on.  Sometimes, it’s one person who stands up to announce that the emperor-pastor indeed has no clothes, and that ghettos of self-righteous legalism aren’t indicative of what Jesus called “the Kingdom of heaven.”

Both indie filmmakers and Christian writers share another similar perception problem.  That if you make movies or write books, you must just be rolling in cash.

Not true.  Most indie filmmakers we know are worried about how to come up with rent this month, and most Christian writers have learned how to maintain their fifteen year old cars themselves.  So when you purchase an independent film, book, or music, you’re not lining a corporation’s coffers.  You’re paying someone’s mortgage or helping with a tune-up.

Social media is changing the landscape here for both parties.  Indies and Christians can both connect with their audiences via social media – and up until Facebook recently required groups to promote their status updates, that was a pretty good deal.  Twitter, Reddit, and even Pinterest help you target the folks that are most likely to enjoy your film, blog, or project.

Of course, if you hit the mother lode, and you get some studio or distributor to slap a marketing package on your piece?  Still no money.  The ‘last in, first out’ principle applies.  The distributors and studios will always get their money first.  But it might be worthwhile to go that route a time or two in order to build a body of work so that, in time, you start to see some income that makes sense.

Anyway, the bottom line is that no one is truly getting rich making art or writing books about theological issues.  Unless they are doing so for a big corporation or have branded themselves to the point where everyone feels obligated to watch the next (insert famous actor/director here) or read the next (insert famous pastor type) here.

We didn’t make Paradise Recovered to make money.  We didn’t do it to lose money, either.  We made Paradise Recovered because we wanted to tell a story that we saved our pennies to tell.  We also made it to be a part of two growing movements of people finally adding their voices to a expanding public square.

We did it to start somewhere.  Even if that somewhere was at the beginning of a worldwide recession.  Which might not have been the smartest move, but we’re happy with our success.  It’s a tough economy for everyone, and we’re grateful to have what we have.

We also did it to launch some careers and to help other artists get some exposure.  We’ve delighted in connecting with hundreds of like-minded filmmakers, spiritual abuse experts, Christians learning to ask questions, and complete strangers who “just loved your movie.”

But mainly, we did it to help a lot of hurting people.

It’s been a crazy ride. Paradise Recovered is on Netflix now.  It’s on sale at Amazon.

And we have a couple of new things brewing.  New scripts finished.  New ideas slowly coming to life.  We’ll keep you posted.

Thank you, THANK YOU for all of your continued support!  We look forward to making more films and asking more questions.

We believe this is just the beginning.

All our best,
Andie Redwine and Storme Wood

We wanted to give props to our pal, Preston Yancey.  Preston has been a friend of Paradise Recovered for a number of years now.  He’s a writer (CLICK to check out his blog at www.seeprestonblog.com), a scholar, and an all-around man of compassion.

He gets spiritual abuse.  And it makes him angry.

Preston wrote this review of Paradise Recovered back in 2011, but we felt that it deserved a larger audience.   We’re grateful to you, buddy.  Thanks for being you.

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“Are you truly committed to the needs and the vision of this church? God wants to know!”

Paradise Recovered is the most honest film I have ever had the privilege of watching or, more truthfully, experiencing.

I first became aware of the movie via Elizabeth Esther’s blog over the summer, when I was working with a church in Hartlepool, UK. The blossoming indie film follows the fictional journey of Esther Harris, who belongs to a fundamentalist Christian sect, as she starts working at local health food store when her church falls on hard times.

There, Esther meets Gabriel, who is a skeptic and a preacher’s kid, as well as Mark, who has a penchant for the entertaining side of Christian television. Esther’s relationship with the two young men help her discover her own value as well as to redefine and approach her faith in a new way.

When I viewed the trailer, my heart and my spirit seemed to run in opposite directions. I had a sense that this film had purpose and calling behind its craft. On the other hand, I felt tentativeness and worry. This would be a movie that was easy to turn into a condemnation of the Church, a heartbreaking rejection of God, and a steady slip into meaninglessness. I both wanted and dreaded the chance to see it.

Lo and behold, that hunger and fear were seemingly pointless. Paradise Recovered was far from my reach. What I was able to garner through blogs and tweets would have to satisfy me, for the film was making the rounds of film festivals and I was not within the proximity or the circles to chance to see it.

During that time, I became increasingly drawn to the project. Something resonated in my being with what I was reading about it and the tenderness with how it had been made. If I couldn’t see it, I resolved, I could contribute in the barest ways I knew: prayer and retweeting their updates and campaigns for finances.

By that point the semester had started and I was back at Baylor University taking classes, keeping the team in my daily prayers but not expecting to know the fruit of that labor for some time. That was until one morning when I received a call from one of my faculty advisors who told me that Baylor’s Honors College had decided to pay for me to attend the Austin Film Festival, as my recent success with having a publishing house express intent to produce my novel had given occasion to the possibility that I may also want to work in film. They intended to send me over the weekend so that I could attend the writing sessions and perhaps also catch a couple of the films.

I had no idea until I looked at the conference schedule that Paradise Recovered happened to be showing there. Essentially, my reaction was an immediate, “YES!” I had found this out only a week before I was to leave and admit that some nights I was like a kid on Christmas Eve, brimming with anticipation.

When I arrived at the festival, this was confirmed at registration. Pulling out my information, one of the organizers asked if I already had an idea of what films I wanted to see. I was about to answer when she broke in: “I highly recommend seeing Paradise Recovered. I saw it last night and it changed my life.” I think that’s a better review of the film than I could ever give.

Paradise Recovered seems at first a barebones kind of story. You presume a lot walking into it. As an evangelical Christian, I brought my own assumptions about what I was going to see. I imagine a skeptic or an atheist would carry a similar sense of his own expectations into the theater. What this film does, masterfully, is make us all wrong and all right all at the same time.

I grew up as a pastor’s kid in the Southern Baptist world. (For some, this will be as fundamentalist as they come. We ourselves wouldn’t be quick to think so, but the association is there from time to time.) What I grew up knowing was my parents’ devotion to loving people with grace. There were many times that my father sat in his office and counseled and consoled people coming out of extreme, fundamentalist cults. My mother, a champion of hospitality and tenderness, served hurting people by listening for however long it took, asking few questions, and being, simply, present.

I was raised to believe that grace and love were the champions of our faith. That while God did have laws and did have a desire for us to obey Him, we were obedient in so far as we responded out of a love for Him, a love that was often learned by seeing others love each other as God had loved them first.

Part of the brilliance of Paradise Recovered is that it shows a faith environment that hinges between obvious oppression and possible nuance. We want to quickly identify it as a cult and be done with it, but then we’re not as positive because the usual markers we have been trained to look for don’t seem to be there. That’s when the first line of presumptions start to crumble.

We learn to not look for what we expect to be the signs but to look instead into the faces of those who speak, to hear the voices, and to ask ourselves quietly if this seems to be the Gospel or a subtle abuse of it.

The years my parents have spent working with those leaving cultish environments have taught them to see the cries for help that are often masked in a thin layer of truth. Scripture is used and quoted, but the context and way it is used is slightly skewed. Our understanding of what it means to be in an environment where evil is done in the name of God must be shaken, or else we may not really see the cracks in the foundation of a life like Esther’s.

Enter Gabriel, the skeptic you can root for. Here’s where some of my assumptions began to fall apart. I found myself drawn to the goodness of Gabriel, who seemed to be the only voice of reason and selflessness. But he’s not, or at least doesn’t seem to think that he is, a Christian. How am I, a good Christian, supposed to respond to that?

On every level, this is a movie that is stunning. The acting is profoundly inspired. Storme Wood’s direction wrought a sumptuous feast of cinema, in which we do not watch actors but friends and family, people that you and I know and have talked to many times. Their faces tell stories, their eyes betray struggle. No one seems out of place or, better yet, stringently polished. They are real. They are incarnations of ideologies in conflict and the notable interaction of Heather del Rio (Esther) and Dane Seth Hurlburt (Gabriel) is a sonata in perfect harmony.

Some things that are so good seem to have a taste to them. Paradise Recovered is like the wine from Communion: sweet and tender on the pallet but with a burn that kisses your soul.

This is in no small part thanks to the exceptional writing of Andie Redwine. As a writer, I spend a lot of time paying attention to how others use words and construct their dialogue. What struck me, again and again, was how everything in the film was planned with such care. Specific lines were woven tenderly into the moments where they fit best. The journey from start to close littered with the most delicately crafted and luscious scenery that Redwine nurtured.

Even what could be considered an iconic, single use of the Lord’s name in vain in the film serves a unique and startlingly apt purpose. The realness of her characters and their struggle would be enough to praise the brilliance of the script, but the true joy is in the carefulness and grace that is steeped in the words. Paradise Recovered is an honest film, thanks to the honesty of its writer. Honesty to the point of tears.

In the Gospel of John, the resurrection of Jesus is framed with an emphasis on Mary Magdalene discovering the empty tomb. When she realizes that He is not there, it devastates her. Mary has only three day previous watched her Lord be raised on a cross and die in front of her eyes and, with Him, her hope. She goes to His grave to put spices on His body to avoid the stench and to honor Him, but an empty tomb is only a resounding emphasis of her loss.

Two angels greet her and assure her that He has risen, but she does not comprehend what they are saying. She can’t see Him, so He’s not there. But He is. Jesus approaches and asks why she is weeping and she fails to recognize His resurrected form. He doesn’t look how she expected Him to. He’s not the same as she had walked with Him knowing Him to be.

So she begs him to tell her where her Saviour has been taken. Perhaps he is the gardener and knows where He has been moved. Trembling she cries out, asking that if He would just tell her where, she will go get Him. But then Jesus says her name and suddenly, instantly, profoundly, Mary knows who He is. She knows the voice of her Saviour when He calls her name. He might not look how she expected, but He is nonetheless there.

Paradise Recovered is a film that watches its own Mary, through Esther, journey in the world asking where they have taken her Saviour. She cannot see Him, though she knows He is there. She roams through the wide roads of this life and stumbles, falls, and struggles to stand. At some of the most heartbreaking points in the film, she crawls and even lies motionless. But there comes a point when He speaks her name. It’s that moment that defines Paradise Recovered as the most beautiful and triumphant of films. It is a film that lets God be gigantic and His mercy be endless. It is a film that sees Him with fresh eyes and a hungry heart.

The film does not end neatly, not in the sense that we would perhaps like to expect. But it ends perfectly. In so far as Christ said to His followers, “Be ye perfect,” perfect being a sense of completeness, a completeness that requires a journey. The answer to the lingering questions of the film is found in the essential belief that God is a good God, who is ever at work in this world.

Paradise Recovered loves first those who have been hurt or abused by man masquerading as God, then it loves the people of God, loves His Church, and loves how abundantly present He is, even when He’s not how we expected Him to look.

I could not keep from sobbing by the close, as the beauty and truth was too devastating to encounter directly. This is not a film in the simple sense; it is a masterpiece of art and a triumph of hope. This is not a Christian film; this is a film a Christian would make.

“Are you truly committed to the needs and the vision of this church? God wants to know!”

That’s one of the lines the leader of the fundamentalist group that Esther belongs to speaks to his congregation via his television ministry. In the context of the film, it is a restricting and suffocating pronouncement of man’s law over God’s mercy. Yet, the film redeems the line by being the answer to it. It’s as if God asked Paradise Recovered if it was willing to be the kind of movie that stood for the values, the love, and the grace of His Church and it willingly answered back: “Here I am, send me.”

Preston Yancey – Baylor University

Folks involved in high-demand churches and organizations generally have no idea what it means to take a break.  They’ve never known a retreat.

Fortunately, there are two places in the United States that provide gentle healing for folks who need it.

Wellspring Retreat and Resource Center is a residential treatment center for those who have been abused in relationships, cults, situations of trauma, and by destructive therapeutic alliances resulting in emotional betrayal and/or physical harm.

First, if you’ve seen our DVD, you’ve seen a few of the folks from Wellspring Retreat and Resource Center.  In fact, a full 10% of producers’ profits for Wellspring go directly to a victim’s assistance fund for folks who desperately need the counseling Wellspring has to offer.

For over 25 years, Wellspring has helped hundreds of spiritual abuse survivors with their restful retreat.  The goal of Wellspring’s two week intensive retreat is to truly jump start healing so that clients can take back their lives – or maybe, like Esther in Paradise Recovered – learn what it means to truly live for the first time.

Meadow Haven is a transitional home exclusively for those escaping high control religious groups, cults, and abusive religious communes.

Another amazing place that clients often attend after their time at Wellspring is MeadowHaven.

From their website, “MeadowHaven exists to provide a refuge for former members of high control, destructive groups to rest, heal, and grow. By understanding their experience in an abusive environment and acquiring the skills necessary for life outside the group, MeadowHaven helps former members recover their ability to be thriving contributors to society. Healing is fostered in the context of healthy community, relationships with other former members with similar experiences, and a supportive staff who understand the processes of thought reform, Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), identity confusion, chronic emotional disturbance, etc.”

Many times, survivors believe that what happened to them just isn’t “that bad.”  That if they worked harder, or if they prayed more, they would be able to get better on their own.  In a high-demand church, you aren’t allowed to be human or have struggles.  PTSD is a treatable condition, and you can get better with the right kind of help.

We’re proud at Paradise Recovered to be able to point survivors in these two directions.  We’re grateful for the people who work so hard to keep Wellspring and MeadowHaven open and thriving.  And we’re committed to sharing our profits with these two fine organizations.

Abused people deserve rest.  And Wellspring and MeadowHaven are places where folks can find peace.

That being said?  These are two of the funniest sites we’ve seen online.

Okay, they are funny and sad.  Because within the face-palming humor lies a system based on rules and regulations that can’t seem to think outside the box.

It’s super helpful for people who’ve been spiritually abused to hit sites like these and take a different look on what they once believed to be the gospel truth.

A lot of what is touted as the gospel isn’t.

As a disclaimer, we don’t agree with everything on these sites, but, to be fair, it’s difficult for us to agree on where to have lunch, let alone what we believe.

First, Stuff Fundies Like.

It’s a site that champions the head-shaking strangeness that comes mostly from the Independent Fundamentalist Baptist movement.  Go peruse some of their videos.  Pee first.  If you don’t?  Well, we warned you.

Second, Stuff Christian Culture Likes.   As good as the aforementioned, this site focuses on the culture ghetto that has become American evangelicalism.

And they do a great podcast called The Grapes Of Rad.

The reason we like this site is because it highlights the ‘sameness’ of churches who are out there marketing a message on a grand scale.  You know, to be relevant.  And edgy.  Because the gospel has gotten stale and boring, apparently.  People need something radical.  Or whatever.

Oh, and it’s written by preacher’s kids.

Anyway, both sites are a call to ditch the smoke and mirrors ‘WOW’ factor of Sunday mornings and get back to something different and relational.  That resonates with Team Paradise.  And so?  We’re grateful.

We are spiritual abuse survivors.

To paraphrase the late Jan Groenveld, one of the pioneers in the spiritual abuse recovery movement, we believed a dangerous lie that closely resembled the truth.  And we have paid dearly for that belief with the sacrifice of our very souls.

Life can really be hard at times for human beings.

We all experience vulnerability in difficult emotional times.  Most people find some sort of support to see them through.

Sometimes that support is healthy, and people learn to grieve, learn, and grow.

But sometimes when people are vulnerable and need answers, someone pretends to give support by exploiting the needs of hurting people, using their ‘answers’ as a recruitment tool to get people to do their bidding in the name of God.

This is what happened to us.

We aren’t crazy, naïve, foolish, stupid, or lazy.  We are human, like you.  We have needs, like you.  And, unfortunately for us, someone took advantage of our human needs for their personal gain.

We thought we were specially called by God.  We learned later that we were just a means to an end, with the end being the elevation of our leader.

Or we were rigidly raised to believe that everything on the outside of our group was bad.  That only our group alone understood God, salvation, and the keys to living rightly.

We were taught or reconditioned to fear everything that contradicted our leaders’ edicts.  We believed dissent to be wicked, evil, and Satanic.

And then we learned something about our leaders that made us question all that we built our lives upon.

We learned that there are a lot of people claiming that they are God’s exclusive one-and-only end time prophets.  They all have their own franchises, and they all seem to know exactly when Jesus is coming back.

We learned that some of our leaders are sexually deviant, dishonest, emotionally abusive, gossips, false prophets, adulterers, tax evaders, murderers, thieves, and/or general conniving swindlers.  We weren’t told everything up front so that we could make informed decisions to follow.

Or we simply learned that there are different rules for the leaders than for the followers.  That there is this grand inequality that doesn’t seem, well, biblical.

We learned that some of our phobias have been granted to us by leaders who manipulated us into believing that the world is really a terrible, horrible place.

Of course, our leader’s group is wonderful and the only good to be found in the world.

Or is it?

And then we learned that asking these questions makes us expendable to the leader and the rest of the group.

When we raised objections about our leader, we were called dangerous, rebellious, demonic, or apostate.  People distanced themselves accordingly.

And when we left, or when we were banished or shunned, we became a part of ‘the world’ that we so feared.  We were disfellowshipped as pagans, heretics, and anathema.  (Disfellowshipped is a fancy term for ‘kicked out with no home and no place to go.’)

We were as good as dead to everyone who once claimed to love us.

We believed that eternal punishment was inevitable.

We believed that we left the hidden truth, the narrow way, and the only light.  That we could either repent, delude ourselves, or suffer in silence.  Alone.

But one day, we noticed that many around us were genuinely happy.  Even the ones that were supposed to be ‘really bad.’  They laughed, smiled, and were kind.

Some had faith, some didn’t.  All were free to believe as they wished.

We were supposed to fear them.  And yet they didn’t seem all that scary.

We didn’t know this worldly culture very well.  Their music, their movies, their celebrations, their workplaces, their books, their relationships.  And they scared us a little.  Or a lot.

They also intrigued us a little.  Or a lot.

And we confused the heck out of these people.  They had no idea where we were coming from, and we were too ashamed and embarrassed to tell them that we had been in what they called ‘a cult’.  That we ‘drank the Kool-Aid’.  That we were ‘mind-numbed robots’ that had been ‘brainwashed.’

There was a lot of shame.  So we didn’t say a word about our experience.  We did the best we could to assimilate.

You may have known us for years and never known our stories.  We can bury them pretty deep.

Because of the Internet and our Googling late into the night when we can’t sleep, we’re learning that we aren’t the only ones.  Because of the anonymity that the Internet affords, we’re getting braver.  We’re telling our stories.

We’re speaking out.

We are still fish out of water.  We care deeply about other hurting people because we know what it means to hurt.

We don’t have demons.  We aren’t possessed.

We’ve experienced trauma.  And it has never been nor will ever be our fault.

We have to convince ourselves of this sometimes.

We’re healing.  Slowly.

But as we heal, we want you to keep a few things in mind.  These things will be helpful for us and for you in this outside culture as we get to know one another.

If you want to be helpful, thinking about these things will help you help us.

When you listen to us, you might be horrified by what we tell you.  Remember that what seems horrific to you is our normal.  Allow us to see your natural reactions, but remind us that we aren’t freaks.  Any human being who experienced what we experienced would have much the same experience.

We might have difficulty expressing emotion.  Tell us that tears make us human, and that it is okay to get angry.  Cry and get mad with us.

Since you may be our first friend, help us learn boundaries.  You’ll be doing a lot of people a favor.  Our boundaries have been routinely violated, as we’ve rarely enjoyed the freedom to think for ourselves.  But we can learn new things.

We might be hell-bent on perfectly emulating you.  We’ve learned to be pretty great chameleons for survival in our group.  If you remind us of your imperfections, we might learn to relax.  Especially around you.

That being said, we can be manipulative.  We’ve learned our techniques from experts.  We hate this about ourselves.  Tell us ‘no,’ and mean it.

Inside our old group, we were taught that our ‘wrong’ behaviors and thoughts directly caused bad things to happen.  That God was punishing us because we didn’t pray or tithe well enough.  Help us see that bad things happen to good people, and that we aren’t as powerful as we might have been led to believe.

Unless, of course, we are continually invading your personal space and privacy.  That kind of thing is powerful enough to be a deal-breaker.  If we violate your boundaries, tell us so.  We need to hear it.

Having a relationship with us can get tricky.  Know that we get triggered by things that remind us of our time in the group, and all of the old programmed fears can kick in again without our knowledge.  We might look like we have some of these triggers licked only to revisit them at very inopportune moments.  Remind us that we are better today than we were yesterday.

We probably have a lot of old literature from our leader around that triggers us as well.  Offer to take the material culture from our group off of our hands.  Pack it up and send it off to a cult researcher who can use these materials to best help others like us.

Even though our leader exploited us for their personal gain, not everything about our group was bad.  We miss things about our group.  We’d like to talk about those things without judgment.

But life isn’t all about our old experiences.  Teach us to play.  It’s probably been a while, if ever.  See us as blossoms that were never allowed to fully open.  We may need to go back and enjoy childhood for the first time.

We have trouble making choices about things that are fun.  There are many choices to make, from food we eat to clothes we wear to places we might go.  We are used to having everything prescribed for us and being told what to like.  We can get paralyzed by what you believe to be are simple choices.

Explain to us that trying new things will help us figure out what we like and want.  And that it is good to like and want things.

Teach us that not every choice is heart pounding, one hand on the edge of a cliff while we dangle serious.  We might try this ice cream today, and we can try this kind tomorrow.  Or we can try both kinds at once, if we are feeling adventurous.

God probably doesn’t care all that much one way or the other, and if God does consider something as trivial as ice cream selection to be a salvation issue, might God look suspiciously like our micro-managing, controlling leader?

We may have missed out on a lot of pop culture references.  Make a list of your favorite movies from the decades we missed and pop the corn.  Load our iPod for us.  Take us to the library.  Experience film and music through our eyes and ears, and everything old will become new again.  Even for you.

We might not have a home to go to on major holidays.  Heck, we may not know the first thing about hanging an ornament or the words to Auld Lang Syne.  We may have never even celebrated our own birthdays. This embarrasses us.  Pretend we are foreigners who need everything explained, but please do it quietly.  We don’t want to feel like crazies.  Help us blend seamlessly into the celebration.

Fun can also cost money, and we have basic needs to consider as well.  Help us find vocational help.  Encourage us to get a job, a GED or a higher education, a driver’s license, a social security number, a birth certificate, food stamps, medical insurance, and social security income.  Make sure we have food, clothing, shelter, transportation, necessary medication, and, in some cases, a good attorney.  Direct us to social service agencies that can help.

If we have children, know that our old group might be fighting us to retain custody.  They have a lot of money and can afford better lawyering.  Help us know our rights as parents, and help Protective Services understand that what we were involved in was more than just a church.

Long-term fun also requires good health.  We may have never had adequate medical care, and we may have never been immunized.  Help us get a physical and a dental checkup.  And maybe even some psychological testing.

If we are engaged in self-destructive behaviors, we may be doing so because the group told us that if we ever left them, we would be self-destructive.  Help us end these self-fulfilling prophecies by pointing us in the direction of a licensed psychologist who specializes in post-traumatic stress disorder.

Remind us that the therapist serves us; we do not serve the needs of the therapist.

If we seem well-adjusted, insist that we check in with a therapist anyway.

Ask us if we have eaten today.  We may have spent a lifetime fasting, and we still may believe that by not eating, we are more pleasing to God.  Encourage a healthy diet and modest exercise regimen.  Balance is the key to our recovery; remember, we’ve lived at the extreme end of the spectrum for years.

Speaking of extremes, don’t be surprised if we argue you to death.  We never won theological or philosophical arguments in our group, and we’re making up for it now.  Let us know when we’ve made good points, but don’t pander; you don’t need to concede your core beliefs just because you are working to understand ours.

Sometimes we need to win arguments at all costs.  We’re sure this feels terrible, but until we hone our social skills?  Don’t take this personally.  Our brains have been trained to think in black and white.  Remind us of the joys of the gray.

We may ask you the same questions over and over.  We came from a place where the answers to our questions could vary based upon the whims of our leader.  Consistency may not be our strong suit.  Be patient, please.

But if you do notice that we are trying something new, or saying something new, or trying on a new way of thinking, or that we’ve made any progress at all?  Tell us how proud you are of us.  You might be the only person we hear this from.

If we are in a romantic relationship with you, ask what our group taught about sexuality.  Chances are that we have been subjected to some fairly odd notions about how men and women should behave in relationships.

We may also have been sexually traumatized in our group.  We may have been subjected to unwanted sexual contact, may have had a marriage arranged by the group, been involved in a polygamous arrangement, prostituted our bodies to provide income for our group, or may have provided sexual favors to our leader.

Or we may have been told that what we wanted sexually wasn’t righteous and could send us to hell.

At any rate, while talking openly about sex might be a huge source of shame for us, it’s pretty imperative that we get this out into the open before we get between the sheets.

Remind us that we can say ‘no’.  And that you can say ‘no.’ And that we don’t have to say ‘yes’ when we think you want us to say ‘yes’.  That you can stop.  That we can stop.

If you’re willing to be patient, we can work on this together.  We’re capable of making progress, even in this department.  Remind us that even seemingly healthy people have sexual hang-ups, and share some of your own.  It will make us feel more normal.

If we’re interested in talking about spiritual matters with you, consider the following:

First off, you would never tell a sexual abuse survivor that the answer to all their troubles was to just get into a healthy intimate relationship.  Please don’t prescribe a healthy church as ‘all we really need.’  We might want that someday, but we need a lot of space from anything that resembles our old experience.

We should never be made to feel guilty about taking a break from church.  What we experience as a Sunday morning service and what you experience are two very different experiences.  Where you can feel empowerment and restoration, we often feel sheer panic.

If you are compelled to tell us about Jesus, tell us first about how he hated spiritual abuse.  Stick to the parts of the gospel accounts where he is all about peace and rest, and where he talks a lot about not being troubled or afraid.

Be friends with us because you like us, not because you have a hidden agenda for us to join your church or small group.  Don’t parade us around as proof that you are doing something right in your ministry.

If you want to model a different kind of ministry for us than the one we experienced in our high-demand church, invite us to come alongside you and observe as you give to people who can never repay you for your kindnesses.

Love us regardless of our ability to believe what you believe.  We are the bruised reed and the smoldering wick.

Bruised reeds and smoldering wicks is fancy poetic Old Testament language for people who’ve experienced trauma.  Don’t demand that we forgive our group.  Forgive for us.  Allow us to feel whatever we need to feel.

Serve us, but don’t patronize.  Love us because we are lovable human beings, not because God said to do your duty.  We’ll know the difference.

Some of us stood in front of congregations and, under the watchful eye of our leader, believed that what we were teaching was ‘what the Lord doth saith.’  We hurt people.  We didn’t know we were doing wrong.  When we knew better, we did better.  Help us to forgive ourselves and to make amends where possible.  Especially in this Internet age where there could very well be YouTube video of us saying something abusive.

If we decide to make moral decisions that do not jibe with your worldview, give our pendulums some time and space to swing.  We need a healthy, adolescent-style rebellion.  We need to differentiate our core beliefs from the beliefs of our abusive leader.  Let us gently know of any pitfalls or consequences to our actions that we may not foresee, and remind us that we do not need to self-destruct in order to feel good.

Don’t ask us for money.  It is likely that we are recovering from debts we might owe from years of financial exploitation.  Ask your church to make their books open and readily available to us.

Don’t expect us to volunteer.  We need to rest up first.  This might take years.  Let us know that there is no contribution that we can make to the community that will make you love us more or less.

Present Scriptures to us within their historical and cultural contexts, and present alternative explanations to your personal biblical interpretation that we might make our own minds up.  Yours isn’t the only orthodoxy; we need to know this.

Our concerns about your pastor’s preaching are legitimate.  If something was taught that bothered us, it matters.  Don’t write us off as having baggage.  Questions deserve explanation, and we are entitled to have our questions answered.  Our perspective is unique and deserves to be considered.  We can learn from each other.  If you admit to a mistake or a new way of looking at something, we’ll respect you forever.

If we don’t come on Sunday, don’t call us and wonder where we’ve been.  The next time you see us?  Act like we’ve been there all along.

Let us sit in the back of the church and bolt when necessary.  Don’t say a word if you notice.

We’ve been dangled over hell by a silk thread with our leader holding a razor blade.  Our leader decided our eternal reward or eternal punishment on the basis of how well we performed what was commanded.  So stop talking about hell.  We’re well aware that there is one; we’ve lived through it.

If you do believe in hell and eternal punishment, reassure us that our struggle to believe doesn’t mean that we have earned such a place.  We’ve suffered enough.  If you can have compassion for our struggle, how much more compassion do you suspect your God has?

Be compassionate, but don’t let us suck you dry.  Some of us have had to report to ‘disciplers’ about such great theological minutiae as what toothpaste brand was the most spiritual to purchase.  Remind us that we have a great number of choices, all of which we are free to try without your approval, consent, or knowledge.

Love us like this with no expectation for a ‘return on your investment.’  We may never believe in God again.  Your ministry to us shouldn’t depend upon our acceptance or rejection of what you are preaching and teaching.  This healing of ours is a process, not a destination or a box to check on the information card found in the back of the pew.  (Which, by the way, we may never fill out.)

Some of us have found God since the abusive experience, and some of us have not and may not.  Some of us will get there eventually.  We need to be free to experience whatever path we choose.  We are valuable regardless of the road we take.

Sacrificial love that we cannot repay is the best kind of God you will ever demonstrate to us.  Which is more important – that we learn to believe as you believe, or that we learn to love as you love?

We’re complicated, but we’re worth it.  We’re passionate, brave, creative, thoughtful, loyal, benevolent, enjoyable, beautiful creatures that have been through something hard and lived to tell the tale.

Thank you for taking the time to be our patient friends, lovers, and lifelines.

You mean more to us than we could ever say.

We’ve already mentioned Rachel Held Evans (whose new book A Year Of Biblical Womanhood is now a New York Times Bestseller), Matthew Paul Turner (whose books SHOULD be New York Times Bestsellers), Elizabeth Esther (who is in the process of writing what we HOPE will be a New York Times Bestseller), and the ex-Quiverfull crowd for starters.

Today, we’ll start a series within a series to highlight more bloggers who are out in cyberspace helping hurting people and raising grassroots awareness about high-demand churches and cultic organizations.  These folks vary in ideology, but these folks have one thing in common: they all despise spiritual abuse in any form.

Lewis Wells, author of The Commandments Of Men

Meet Lewis Wells and his blog, The Commandments of Men.

(Can we just say that we love the title of this blog?  It comes from Matthew 15:9 and Mark 7:7 where Jesus nails the Pharisees for doing lip service to worship while teaching their own commands as the will of God.  Genius.)

Lewis is also an expert on the Patriarchy and Quiverfull Movement, especially when it comes to the phenomenon of courtship.  Courtship is basically an arranged marriage  made popular in ultra-fundamentalist Christian circles with the best-selling 1997 book, “I Kissed Dating Goodbye” by Joshua Harris, but the notion of courtship originated so far as we can tell with Bill Gothard and his Institute in Basic Life Principles.

Sometimes the adjective “Christian” or “biblical” is added to the beginning of the word “courtship” to make it seem more mainstream and acceptable to evangelicals. The vast majority of people foisting this supposed “biblical courtship” onto parents eager to help their kids make right, godly decisions were never involved in courtship themselves.

They dated.  It worked out.  Which has us shaking our heads as to why a patriarchally-dominated courtship is going to somehow be superior.

Lewis wrote this amazing piece about the purity movement, where he analyzes the Purity Movement as a subset of this courtship ideology.  Many might wonder where fundamentalists get their talking points, and Lewis breaks down the origin of the ideas and their fallacies.

We explored what has become a literal doctrine of purity and the subsequent arranged marriage in many ultra-conservative fundamentalist groups in Paradise Recovered, mainly because we see the choice of if, when and who one decides to marry as a fundamental human right.

Lewis has been tirelessly and bravely working to undo the myths surrounding Christian courtship, and his blog is worth reading.  He earned his expertise the hard way: he lived it.  Read his fascinating story here, and then go and read the labor of love that is his blog.

Team Paradise is grateful for Lewis Wells and all he has done for hurting people.  We wish him the very, very best this life has to offer,  We thank him for the freedom he has given to many, in spite of his own pain.  Thanks, brother.

In 2010, a criminal case involving an elder at Trinity Baptist Church in Concord, NH made national news.  Trinity Baptist is involved in a loose affiliation of churches called  Independent Fundamentalist Baptist Churches.  In 1997, Ernest Willis, a 35 year old elder at Trinity Baptist, committed a sexual crime with a minor.  As a result of the incident, his victim became pregnant.

A teenager in 1997, this young woman was forced to stand up in front of the congregation at Trinity Baptist Church and ‘repent’ of her sin with Willis.  A statement was read for her, as she was unallowed as a woman to speak for herself in church.  Unbeknownst to the authorities, she was then whisked away to another state to have the child and give it up for adoption.  All of this was orchestrated, according to the 20/20 investigation, by Reverend Chuck Phelps, pastor at Trinity.

As an adult, Tina Anderson stood up bravely and told Concord prosecutors this story.  On September 6, 2011, Willis was sentenced to 15 to 30 years in prison for this crime.  Chuck Phelps has never been prosecuted for obstructing justice in the case, though he did testify at trial.

Christopher Peterman is the founder of DoRightBJU, an abuse awareness and support group at Bob Jones University.

Enter Christopher Peterman.  Christopher was a student at Bob Jones University, and he was following these events closely, posting them on his Facebook wall.

Why was Christopher so interested in the case?  It turns out that Chuck Phelps was on the Board of Trustees at the ultra-fundamentalist Bob Jones University.  And Christopher questioned why an individual involved in what seemed to him to be a cover up of sexual abuse would be on that board.

Christopher was told by the BJU Administration to stop posting things on his Facebook wall about Chuck Phelps, lest he be expelled.  Everything that Christopher posted was all over national media; he was merely asking questions and posting links.

To abide by the letter of the school’s law, Christopher founded DoRightBJU, a Facebook page dedicated (according to the page) “to petition fellow students at Bob Jones University to do right in supporting abuse victims through spreading awareness and by responding appropriately to abuse.“

On December 12, 2011, Christopher received word from the Dean of Men at BJU to shut down the Do Right BJU Facebook page.  In reply, Christopher refused, believing that he had a first amendment right to continue the page.  He went home for Christmas, Chuck Phelps stepped down from his position at Bob Jones University, and University officials promised to start a new sexual abuse task force.

From a CNN interview (yeah, it made CNN), Peterman stated, “I thought everything was good. I was talking with abuse victims and referring them to a support network, RAINN [the Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network]. I had other students joining in. It was very good.”

Christopher returned to BJU in January, prepared to finish his senior year.  He was shocked to learn that in order to complete his senior year, he would need to attend a weekly counseling session.  The University found his activism to be insubordination, and as such, Christopher stood accused of violating the command of God.

You read that right.  God.  Because defying University officials meant defying the Creator of the Universe.

As you might suspect, Christopher never got his degree from Bob Jones University.  He was expelled nine days before graduation.  He was offered no refund for his paid tuition.

Why the expulsion?  Charges such as posting the lyrics to a contemporary Christian song on Facebook, having stubble at midnight, and being caught (off-campus) in a Starbucks, watching the hit show “Glee.”

Again from the CNN article: “I wanted to cry,” he said. “I thought that God had answered my prayers, everything’s gonna be alright. So, everybody starts to leave the room, and it’s just me, the Dean of Students, and the Dean of Men. Then the Dean of Men says that they’re kicking me out because I tried to intimidate BJU.”

Bob Jones University doesn’t like for their students to be media savvy, apparently.

Christopher was treated like a sex offender should be treated.  He was told to back his bags and leave campus immediately.  Only Christopher was no sex offender; he was a friend to sexual abuse victims on the BJU Campus.  He helped them get help.  Which seems like a Christian thing to do.

It’s been a year since Christopher started asking questions.  And DoRightBJU is still going strong with over 1,000 Facebook members.

Very recently, Bob Jones University finally invited an independent group to investigate alleged abuses and assaults on its campus – the very thing that Christopher was fighting for as a student.  Everyone at DoRightBJU considers it a victory.  We wish that BJU would do a little more right and revoke Christopher’s expulsion and award him with a diploma.

Baby steps.

The DoRight movement has inspired other movements. DoRightHyles-Anderson, for one.  In September, revered Pastor Jack Schaap of the First Baptist Church of Hammond, Indiana (which contains Hyles-Anderson College) pled guilty to the charge of having sex with a minor. 

Team Paradise reached out to Christopher Peterman during his expulsion because we were in awe of his bravery.  It takes a lot of guts to continue to press against an organization when you have so incredibly much to lose.  Christopher continues his fight, and we continue to be inspired.

If BJU refuses to grant Peterman a degree, what we would love to see is a college or university accept Christopher’s transfer credits and award him an honorary accredited degree.  He’s a good student.  He’s worked hard.  And his refusal to cave to enormous pressure deserves every accolade.

We count him among our friends here at Team Paradise.  He is a fine example of what it means to stand up for the oppressed.  Quite honestly, his actions define what it means to be a Christian for us.

Well done, Christopher.  We love you, and we are proud to call you Brother.

*If you or someone you know has been affected by sexual crime, help is available 24/7 through the National Sexual Assault Hotlines.  Call 800.656.HOPE or visit online at www.rainn.org.

You’ve no doubt heard of the Quiverfull Movement through the reality show “19 Kids and Counting.”  Jim Bob and Michelle Duggar have inspired a number of ultra-conservative fundamentalists to follow in their footsteps and stop using any form of birth control.  You know?  For God.

Today, Team Paradise honors three different forums who are raising more than just eyebrows at the Duggar family and the Quiverfull movement in general.

They are raising their voices.

Vyckie Garrison publishes ‘No Longer Quivering’ to warn families of the dangers of the Quiverfull Movement and their teachings while helping women escape.

First, meet Vyckie Garrison.  We can’t do better than this bio that we found on her forum, No Longer Quivering:

“For many years Vyckie lived the Quiverfull lifestyle, seeking to have as many ‘blessings’ (babies) as the Lord would allow her. Those pregnancies were against medical advice and she nearly lost her life on several occasions. During those years she did it all (or attempted to), all the proper things that fundamental patriarchy deems a righteous quivering woman should do. She home schooled, had a newsletter supporting the principles of the Quiverfull movement, raised obedient Christian children and submitted to her husband. Until she couldn’t any longer, realizing the damage this type of religious lifestyle can bring about. It took a near tragedy for Vyckie to see her way out.”

We’re glad Vyckie saw her way out.  Check out No Longer Quivering for some heartbreaking and hopeful stories of spiritually abused women who are doing great things.

Through Vyckie’s tireless work, we learned of Quivering Daughters.  Written by Hillary McFarland and edited by Megan Lindsey, Quivering Daughters has grown from a book into a community of people bonding over their common experience of growing up experiencing poverty, hunger, medical and educational neglect, and arranged marriages.  Yes.  In America.

Unlike the Duggars, who allegedly have a pretty sweet income from their TLC show, most Quiverfull families struggle to adequately provide for children when they are mandated to live on one income, refuse any sort of government assistance (including health insurance), and insist that girls live with their fathers until ready to marry.

Finally, I (Andie) was approached by a great forum over at FreeJinger.org to do a Q&A about our film and my thoughts on the Quiverfull movement.  While the folks at FreeJinger (and Jinger is the name of one of the Duggar children, by the way) don’t necessarily see themselves as a place of healing for ex-Quiverfullers, we suspect they do more good than they know.

In many abusive churches and systems, outrage is the first thing to be stifled.  The FreeJingerites aren’t censoring themselves – and they’ve created a virtual community around their anger.  Some have retained faith, some have not – and yet the community seems to live in tolerance.  And that’s pretty amazing.

We’re grateful for Vyckie and No Longer Quivering, for Hillary and Megan and Quivering Daughters, and for all of the snarksters over at FreeJinger.  You make us proud.  Carry on, warriors!

- Andie Redwine (for Team Paradise)

Elizabeth Esther was raised in a restrictive religious environment.  (We call them ‘high-demand churches’.)  She’s growing and changing, and she is helping many people.

As an introduction to Elizabeth Esther, we asked to reprint one of her blog posts entitled “Why I’ve Stopped Living Each Day As My Last.“

She graciously agreed.  Thanks, Elizabeth, for being a truth-teller.  And thanks for reminding us to slow down – that we’re truly not on the brink of Armageddon.

Besides, if Jesus comes back?  Isn’t that a good thing?

::::

Why I’ve Stopped Living Each Day As My Last – Elizabeth Esther

Recently, I had a jarring insight in therapy. Our marriage therapist was remarking on the fact that we have a high tolerance for living in high-demand, high-stress environments. We’ve been living like each day is our last since we were kids.

Apparently? This isn’t healthy. Who knew?

As children we were both raised in oppressive religious environments. On top of this, my husband’s family of origin was always teetering on the brink of breakup. My family was always teetering on the brink of church scandal.

As children, we learned how to live on hyper-alert. We were taught that tolerating abuse was normal and healthy.

As adults, we know how to live in chaos. We know how to manage and juggle and try to keep everything from falling apart.

Here’s the Big Lesson I’ve learned: no matter how hard you try, shit falls apart anyway.

This is a relief, actually. It’s not MY job to keep everything together. It’s not MY fault if things fall apart.

Additionally, living in survival mode is not a healthy thing. This is what is scaring me right now. I don’t know any better than to drive myself onward. Ever faster. Ever stronger. Always biting off more than I can chew. I am so driven that I am modeling that for my children. I am showing them that keeping up the frenzied pace is good and normal and healthy.

Furthermore, I am my own harshest critic. I criticize myself before someone else has a chance to do that. As a kid, I spanked myself. I don’t have mean thoughts about other people, all my mean thoughts are about myself.

I punish myself.

I never lashed out at the unfair, abusive living conditions. I simply internalized it and told myself to figure out a way to survive.

I didn’t leave.

Do you know how much courage it takes to leave an abusive situation? So much. I didn’t have that kind of courage. I am in awe of those who do.

People tell me I write courageously and vulnerably and the truth is: writing courageously is easy compared to the courage it takes to leave an abusive church. I didn’t have enough courage to do that. What I did do? I resigned myself to a life of misery. My church had to fall apart before I worked up the courage to leave.

The thing is, when dysfunction is your normal, you adapt accordingly. For children like me who were raised in high-demand, religious environments we simply adapted and learned how to survive. Hostile environments were our normal.

It’s just sick. You never give peace or happiness a chance because healthiness is abnormal. A major part of my recovery has been realizing my addiction to THE WORLD IS ENDING. Nothing seemed real unless it was fraught with adrenaline.

Happiness and peace feels abnormal. In fact, it feels damn uncomfortable.

But here’s the truth: human beings can live in survival mode for awhile. But eventually, it takes a toll. My marriage has taken a huge, direct hit. We are finally beginning to understand the long-term toll the Survival Lifestyle has taken on us.

Human beings are not supposed to fight unending wars. Something gives out. First goes our empathy. Then goes our health, perhaps. Then we lose our sanity.

I am finally admitting that I am human and I can’t do it all.

I need help.

And I need to keep getting help until I’m all the way helped.

I need to stop living like each day is my last. I need to sloooow down and just live.

We’ll never forget who got us here.

Team Paradise with two full days worth of gratitude here!

When we began the journey that is the film Paradise Recovered, we had no real film connections.  We didn’t have any “ins” at film festivals or have an agent.  We didn’t have a distribution deal.  No one in Hollywood wanted to have “meetings” with us.

What did we have?  A script.  A business plan.  Some savings.  And a ton of pluck.

Crazy?  Yes.  But it was our shot at something special.  And sometimes, you have to just take aim and make that shot count.

We planned for weeks to cast and pull off a two-state production with a road trip, a RED camera (which at the time was unthinkable), and a band of merry marauders who made those three and a half weeks of our lives completely unforgettable.

And then?  It was just the two of us again.  Juggling kids and carpool and about 60 hours of footage.

Storme began the process of putting together the rough cut, and I started investigating film festivals.  We’d already spent a lot of money.  And honestly?  We needed some help.

Every Sunday afternoon, I’d listen to this indie film Internet radio show called Film Courage.  And I learned about this thing called a Kickstarter.  I wondered if we could make the concept work for us.

Turns out?  It was the smartest thing we ever did.

At the time, crowdfunding wasn’t a concept that had caught on in the Midwest.  No one knew what we were talking about.  But our friends and family believed in our dream.  And they contributed $8000 to help us submit to film festivals.  And we had a little leftover for travel expenses.

Well, we applied, and we got into a few festivals.  We won some awards.  We met a producer’s representative.  And we subsequently got a distribution deal.  And these days, we do take meetings from executive producers and Hollywood people?  Why?  Because our Kickstarters invested in our work.

We’re proud that we made Paradise Recovered completely outside the Hollywood system.  But because of the generosity of our Kickstarters?  We’ll get to make the next one a great hybrid between the talent of Hollywood and the incredible filmmaking treasures buried here in the Midwest.

Make no mistake - we’ve never forgotten our friends and family who supported us so generously.  We’ve championed their work whenever possible, and we’ve given to other filmmakers that they might be able to dream big like we have.

In a note with his contribution, one of our Kickstarters reminded me that “there is the going around, and there is the coming around.”  He’s right.  When you invest in people, the return is always fantastic.

We credit the success of Paradise Recovered to our Kickstarters.  We remain forever grateful to each and every one of them.

And we’ll never forget where we came from.

- Andie Redwine for Team Paradise