My Experience with Bill Gothard's Cult

Click here to see what I'm making. 

Dear Friend,

I feel lighter after mentioning the cult I was brought up with in yesterday's post. I've known for a while I would start discussing it in the blogosphere eventually -- but as the saying goes, "The dread is worse than the doing." 

Half way through writing that post I thought, "It's time. Spit it out now!" 

It matters to me how I phrase things. I've tried to say, "I was raised in a cult," and that's not right. I was raised in a home -- a loving home. My spirit and creativity was mostly encouraged. I was rarely depressed as a young person. I was protected. My parents were not abusive. For the most part they used Bill Gothard's material as a tool. Whenever we had disagreements, we would come together and try to find the "root cause" of our conflicts as Gothard had showed us to do. None of this was harmful.

I was influenced by a cult leader for many of my formative years -- I'll put it that way.

You might think of the Duggar family when you read about ATI homeschooling, but that wasn't us. I was the oldest of four. We dressed in our long skirts for the big Knoxville conference in the early 90s, but at home I was allowed to wear pants. Rock music and most movies were not allowed, but I had plenty of aunts and uncles who occasionally let me break a few rules when I visited their homes. I wasn't completely culturally illiterate! 

Classical music was allowed, though my parents and siblings didn't have a taste for it. Oddly, I turned to our local classical radio station as a way to assert my independence. Beethoven, Mozart, and Chopin were my teenage heartthrobs! Even now I have to be in the mood for music with a back beat. It's not my native sound.

Though my parents attended Gothard's seminars 13 times, I was only homeschooled for the last three years of high school. Before that I attended public grade school and a private middle school. Once we started homeschooling, most of my education became self-directed. I went to one Basic Seminar. I never attended an Advanced Seminar.

The real danger for me was how I was indoctrinated by Gothard's ideology when I was old enough to leave my family and go away for short jaunts to serve in his ministry. I was coaxed into making commitments I didn't fully understand. I took his teachings to heart and became quite prideful about what I considered to be my superior spiritual understanding. 

So that's where I'll try to pick up next time -- my first trip abroad with 100 other students and Bill Gothard.

Hope you are well!

Blessings,

Adriana

My First Love: Beethoven Symphony No.6, "The Pastoral"

I enjoy many styles of music, but my first love is classical music. In the coming weeks I'll be sharing ten classical pieces that have been instrumental in my life journey.
When I was six years old, my mother brought home a record album entitled Beethoven Symphony No.6. -- The Pastoral. Mom didn't have an affinity for classical music; the album was a K-Mart "Blue-Light Special" she had bought on a whim with some pocket change. Perhaps she thought a little "culture" might prove useful for helping to tame her rowdy little ones.

I stood fidgeting on tip-toe as she placed the large, black album on the turntable and lowered the needle into the vinyl grooves. For a moment, I watched the record spin, then sat cross-legged on the floor. All at once, a cheerful, sweeping melody lifted my heart and began to open up my world.

 First Movement

I spent many evenings listening to The Pastoral while sprawled on the brown carpet next to our mammoth stereo system. Sometimes I placed my small hands on the speakers to feel the vibrations the  sound made. A few times I fell asleep in that spot. Mom gently scooped me up from the floor and carried me off to bed.

I knew from the landscape which was printed on the album's cover that the music was about nature. While listening, it wasn't hard to imagine walking through a meadow on a pleasant day. My dad worked long hours in a can factory, but on his days off from work he often took my younger siblings and me for  hikes through woods and fields. 

I always felt disappointed near the end of our journeys when Dad said it was time to turn for home. Inevitably there was just one more bend in the path that I wished I could explore. I could easily relate to the first movement of The Pastoral because it made me feel the same sense of excitement and wonder that I felt when I set out on an adventure with Dad.

Second Movement

In the second movement I could hear flowing water and bird calls. For a small child nothing is more delightful than a creek to wade in. There are so many things to discover: fossils, tiny shells, pretty rocks, salamanders, crayfish. The bird calls in the the second movement were thrilling. Imagine! Instruments that sound like birds! Dad was good at imitating birds in nature. We sometimes practiced together. I loved to imitate whippoorwills and mourning doves.

Third movement

In the third movement there is folk dancing and revelry! This is the part where I would skip and dance around the room.

Fourth Movement

Quick -- run! A storm is coming! 

Throughout my childhood I considered storms to be delightfully frightful. A storm meant the power might go out and we could light candles! Rumbling thunder was exciting. It made me feel glad to be safe, and dry in the sanctuary of our snug home. The fourth movement of  The Pastoral is a surprisingly realistic depiction of a thunderstorm.

Fifth Movement

The fifth and final movement is a shepherd's song of thanksgiving. It is an uplifting ending to a wonderful musical experience. To this day, whenever I hear Beethoven Symphony No. 6, I am filled with eager delight and reminded of the hopeful innocence and spirit of adventure that I felt when I was very young.