Mae’s Story
The following account includes descriptions of self-harm and may be triggering for some readers.
“Mae” alleges that CFC taught abusive child training practices. She alleges that CFC’s instructions on breaking children to make them obedient resulted in children who were only outwardly compliant.
I was scrolling through Instagram stories the other day when a CFCtoo story caught my attention. The story asked whether the reader felt that their parents were proud to be spanking them. I froze. I wondered, “Did my kids ever feel that I was proud when I spanked them?” I hadn’t spanked my children in years because something in me had shifted.
My introduction to Christian Fellowship Center was through Christian Fellowship Academy’s Friday homeschool enrichment program. We had been homeschooling our children and I was in desperate need of support. Perhaps it was my need for interaction that allowed me to see the program through rose-colored glasses.
It wasn’t until we were in the deep end of the pool that my children started reporting troubling behavior that they witnessed there from the other CFA students. They said that students acted as if they were friends and then talked negatively about them behind their backs to other students. They asked me if the students acting like their friends were indeed really their friends? Or were they going behind their backs talking about them?
I will admit that I did not believe my children’s reports because they were talking about the children from leaders' families. There was no space in my mind where this behavior would be acceptable; part of me believed there was a halo on top of each of their heads. After all, I had sat through many mothers’ meetings over the years and CFA meetings in particular where the leaders spun stories of spotless houses achieved by the chore chart, the spotless houses that all of us in attendance seemed to be lusting after. They told tales of delightful family devotion times where all the children sat together and listened to every word.
And if you were blessed enough to have a musical family, your children would lead the family in a time of praise and worship. There would always be a hope that someday, their musical ability might lead them to a place on the worship team.
However, to get to the worship team you needed to be part of the “in” group. You needed to be approved and accepted. I wrote myself a note to sign my children up for music lessons, ASAP.
Maybe that helps you to understand why I didn’t believe my children when they brought up serious concerns about behavior. We had been told that CFA and homeschooling was so much better than the public schools because it was based on Biblical principles.
I remember reading the books and listening to the seminars about breaking a child’s spirit. I’ll admit that I bought into it, because who doesn’t want obedient children? Who doesn’t want children who smile and obey you the first time? Children who happily comply with your requests? This was the goal of parenting for me. If I wanted to be accepted in any group with conservative values, I needed to have well-behaved children, instantly and cheerfully obedient children.
And I needed my children to perform well so that I would be included.
I would even make my children practice church at home for devotions simply so we could walk into church on Sunday mornings and I could show everyone that I had it together. This was taught and encouraged at any parenting or mothers’ meeting. I would sit there in the pew and demand silence and stillness. There would be consequences if this was not achieved.
I really believed that my relationship with God AND the relationship that my children had with God were tied up in my ability to make them love God. There was this weight, this huge fear of eternal damnation for me and for them, that was driving me to make my children sit still and listen. There was also the weight that if my children didn’t obey me, then they would never obey God.
Whatever had to be done, I had to break their spirit so that they would only have an obedient heart for God and not the world. I bought it. Hook, line, and sinker. I was in.
But then I started thinking: what if I wasn’t supposed to break their spirit? What if the very thing I was trying to control was the attribute that was going to set them apart? What if their spirit is what led them to stand on the front line against an oppressive power? Or to stand next to those that have been marginalized? What if I was creating fearful people more concerned about following rules than following Jesus?
This is when the shift began.
A few years after my children had brought up the concerning behaviors they witnessed, I began seeing it for myself. I could no longer deny it. The children acted one way around those that enforced the rules, and when no one was watching, the rules went out the window. I started to question if the adults behaved in the same manner. Could it be that we were taught in mothers’ meetings to play by the rules, but when the rule enforcers weren’t around, the gloves came off?
That is when I realized that this wasn’t working.
I had believed that if I followed CFC’s Biblical principles (discipline & spanking), I would get the promised children who would have a passion for Jesus and influence the nations.
But what if those CFC Biblical principles were teaching children to pretend to be obedient, well-behaved children? What if my own children were just pretending? And this was all just a lie? What if my children really didn’t care about others or Jesus? What if all I had produced were well-behaved children who were punks when I turned my back? What if I had squashed any intrinsic motivation they had and replaced it with this fake Jesus?
I felt sick. And then I began watching my children spiral downhill. I share the following story with my child’s permission.
I remember asking one of my children about a scab on their arm. My stomach dropped when they told me that they had done it to themselves intentionally. I stood there, shocked. Why? What had caused my child to harm themself? Through further conversations, I learned how they felt like they didn’t fit into the CFA mold. How people had made comments about their appearance. Then when they weren’t sure what else to do to dull the pain, they took an object and sliced their arm. I cried inside hearing how slicing their arm released the pain that they felt within. How had a place that I thought would be safe for my family turn out to bring so much harm?
It became abundantly clear that we needed to escape, but I didn’t know how to get out. I felt like we had been in too long and we were in too deep.
When I found my children were not well and were doing their best to avoid contact with CFC people, I realized I couldn’t play by the CFC rules any longer. The lives of my children depended on it. I am not saying that for effect. I am absolutely sincere when I say that their lives depended on us getting out.
I went to my children and apologized. I had messed up: I cared more about them performing well than I cared about them. In my need to have obedient children, I had overlooked all the wonderful personality traits they had. I didn’t want to break their spirits anymore, I wanted to foster them. I started asking questions about their hopes and dreams and how I could help. I had spent years trying to break their spirits and now I had to undo all the damage. I hoped my apology would be the start of a new foundation, one built on trust, not on fear-based rule-following.
We have been on an incredible journey to health. I wish I could say that we are all on this journey following God, but honestly, we aren’t. Our journey out of CFC has left my children with numerous questions that we do not have answers for.
How do I answer questions about God’s goodness after my children experienced such harm from people who claim exceptional godliness?
I am hopeful for spaces where they feel free and safe to voice their questions. I am thankful to see smiles on their faces and to have the sounds of their laughter fill the space around us. One of my children recently told me that they didn’t realize how long it had been since they had smiled. My therapist told me that there are bright days ahead after you leave a cult. My therapist was right. And I am here for every single bright day there is to have.
