Over the past decade, it's become commonplace for people to begin telling their stories of experience with the Independent Fundamentalist Baptist church movement. From ABC's 20/20 to the recent Star-Telegram report, IFB has been in the news for abuse, especially of a sexual nature. Fortunately for me, the abuse I suffered was not sexual, but it still underlines the same problems in IFB which makes it fertile ground for sexual abuse.
People don't understand how growing up in IFB can fundamentally orient a child to hatred and bigotry. My parents are good people who taught me about God's love for all people. This was not so within IFB. At 9, I learned in Sunday School that "there's no such thing as a peaceful Muslim," something my father refuted for me. I thought interracial marriage was immoral when I was in early grade school. I also remember being taught racist jokes, something my mother was not pleased about. Bob Jones University, an institution closely associated with IFB, didn't allow interracial dating until 2000. Even if my parents were good people, this was where I was raised.
Men with authority in IFB are essentially unchallenged, and this means many of them with a temper are free to take the anger they feel on others, perhaps the same anger that they inherited from the previous generations of IFB men. In early high school, I was hit with a ball from a game in the youth room, causing me to drop a cup of apple cider on myself. While an adult volunteer cleaned me up, a teacher from the church's school slipped on the puddle, and learning I dropped the cup, shook me and screamed about how "stupid" I was. Events like this were regular occurrences. It came from BJU professors, youth leaders, camp directors, and more. Sometimes, it was just words and insults. Other times, I was left with bruises. I rarely told anyone, especially when I had bruises, because when I did, I was told that they just have an anger issue.
This left me with a fear of authority, including my parents, and worsening mental illness. I attempted suicide at 14 after a very insignificant argument with my parents. Peers poked fun at my suicide attempt and some referred to it as "selfish" and said other hurtful things. This makes sense, since I heard from the pulpit that suicide was "the most selfish sin someone could commit" and a cry for attention, not help. As I began self harming regularly with burning, I did not have anyone to whom I could turn. The narrative was that I had to get "better," but how could I get better without actual mental healthcare? When I told a doctor the symptoms I was experiencing, he referred to them as "torture" and suggested medical intervention. This was refused because the church may not have approved.
This continued for years until I went to the WILDS of New England, an IFB summer camp, before my senior year of high school for the two week, intensive "Camper in Training." During this time, I developed a serious blood and skin infection. I passed out regularly and developed a massive rash and open wound on the back of my knee. During this time, I suffered significant spiritual, emotional, and physical abuse from Rand Hummel, the camp's leader and a well-respected author and BJU lecturer. After I had passed out a couple times, Rand explained to me that I wasn't that sick. Instead, I was looking for attention and faking it. He treated me that way for the rest of CIT.
When my knee scabbing ripped open, it oozed blood and puss. I tried to sit out a game of baseball with CIT students and staff, but Rand forced me to play, again, because he didn't think I was really sick or hurt. The blood and puss ran down my leg and onto my shoes by the time I was done, and other campers expressed concern. Rand brushed it off. It was one of the most painful experiences of my life, but Rand told me to stop limping when I ran.
When I had to use crutches, Rand tried to take them and made fun of me, again telling me I wasn't that hurt and didn't need them. He told me I would be sent home if I "passed out" again, and so I hid in bathrooms or side rooms whenever I felt myself going south. Counselors and campers both expressed to me that Rand was wrong for what he was doing, but no one challenged him.
On the last week of camp, an evangelist named Tom Farrell preached. During one fire and brimstone sermon, Farrell went on a tangent about gay men, referring to them by multiple insults and slurs like "animals" or "filth." No one stood up to him either while he preached this to teenagers. When I left camp that summer, my faith was shattered, but I couldn't let anyone else see that. Everyone else was on a spiritual high. I was wondering if God loved me or if I could trust my own thoughts and experiences. I told no one what happened, and I attempted suicide again at 17.The difference between Rand's reaction to me and Rand's reaction to Tom exemplifies the IFB problem. Power, not Christ, controls the movement's institutions. And because of a long history of racism and sexism, this means that white men primarily hold power. When people in power do something terribly wrong, like Tom Farrell or others who hurt me, they are very rarely challenged. So the victims stop talking about it. Who will listen?
These experiences of Rand aren't mine alone, I know of other stories as well, both public and private, which are eerily similar in multiple ways. These experiences of male rage aren't mine alone either. They're almost universal experiences for people who leave IFB.
This disproportionate power is why I've seen a friend be fired for being celibate and gay, but an IFB preacher who said you should beat LGBTQ children is still in the pulpit of his large church. This is why racist jokes may go unchallenged, but a police officer's kid said his father thought it was perfectly ok to write "Fuck Black Lives Matter" on bullets in his service weapon. This is why students who make jokes about Atheists going to hell can become communications directors for congressional representatives, but I was ostracized for suggesting that good Atheists may still experience God's grace. This is why a single pregnant woman experiences "church discipline," but a friend experiencing sexual harassment was told the church wouldn't do anything about it.
There are and were good people in IFB, like my parents and other family. I highly respect and have found some solace in Alan Benson, the Vice President of Student Development at BJU. He personally stood up to Tom Farrell, who is no longer welcome at the WILDS. He has also made a lot of reform to counseling and mental health issues in IFB institutions. However, his sentiments aren't shared by much of IFB and BJU. At the end of the day, however, I don't think IFB and denominations like it can or should be reformed. Christ's church is built on humility and the least of these. But IFB's structures are anti-Christ. They protect the powerful while punishing dissenters and abusing the vulnerable.
I may have lost my faith for a while after IFB, but I've gained a new faith in Christ's Gospel of love, justice, and inclusion. And I can't keep quiet about it anymore. This is why I'm so vocal about including and affirming outsiders, such as LGBTQ people or refugees. It's what Christ demands from me now that I've built my own faith.
If you have experienced abuse from IFB or other religious leaders or laymen, you're not alone. God loves you, and your voice matters.
