Lenten Project: Day Twenty-eight

I've mentioned that Fundamentalists have some strange views on music.  Reading through my diaries a few days ago reminded me of an incident at Bob Jones University my sophomore year.  I'd brought with me some music recorded and produced by Pensacola Christian College, in addition to a lovely recording of a Bible Conference at a Fundy church in Singapore (pastored by a BJU grad, it received many visits from the Joneses).

Well, one day, I was playing these CDs in my dorm room, when my room's spiritual leader turned to me suddenly and accused me of failing to get them checked.  I told her I'd gotten them checked the year before, and they'd been approved.  Not good enough, she said.  I needed to get them rechecked each semester, according to what the dorm sup had recently told her.  (I did find out later that she and my dorm sup this particular semester were actively seeking ways to reprimand me--I got that straight from from the dorm sup herself at the end of the year when she advised me that I'd have to be under spiritual counseling the next year.  She said they were trying to remove my stubborn will and "break my spirit" of pride.)

Since the deadline for getting music checked had passed, I was in trouble for "failing to follow instructions."  My perfectly acceptable CDs were confiscated and I was slapped with a penalty of 20 demerits.  The dorm sup said she was being merciful by not giving me 50.  I wished she'd stuff it with the mercifulness.  I never did get those CDs back.

My parents' rules about music were very similar (though they'd allowed the PCC music without question).  While home on a visit after I was married, my mom caught me listening to Phillips, Craig, and Dean worship music.  It's CCM, and she gave back my earbuds with a look of disgust on her face.  "How could that possibly glorify the Lord, Hannah?"  I'm still surprised she didn't fuss over me letting my youngest sister have a listen, and that shock is probably why I remember the incident so vividly.

To a person who has been weaned on Patch the Pirate and classical music, anything "other" is not only different, but evil.  Majesty Music, the production arm of Patch the Pirate's musical ministry, actually teaches that music has morals, and any music not in keeping with their standards is wicked and from satan.

For me, as a missionary kid, receiving that message was confusing up against my experiences.  In Grenada, we'd clap along to hymns, sometimes even getting really into it and keeping rhythm, which is bad, according to Frank Garlock of Majesty Music. In his view, that sort of thing is the reason for the high divorce rate among Christians, among other evils.  In Singapore, the music could be ethnic and beautiful, but we saw it as strange and odd and only allowed hymns accompanied by piano in our church.  Those churches that went wild with drums, Asian instruments, and songs in other languages--not in hymn format--were worldly. I don't think I would have survived India, with its gorgeous music--I'd have been too busy judging everything as sin, based on the principles I'd been taught.

It's a sad way to view the world, let me tell you.  The disdain and disgust at beauty isn't very Christian, I've come to realise, and I still struggle to be more accepting and appreciative of the things I never knew growing up.  Ironically, I don't much care for CCM anymore, preferring old hymns in my church worship and liturgy.  But that doesn't mean I think churches who use modern Christian music are damned by God just for worshiping with that style of music. Letting go of such tight control of "what is pleasing to The Lord" lets me appreciate and even admire a lot of beautiful music I used to think was satanic. And guess what? A lot of it IS glorifying to God, after all! Even Nirvana, in a strange way. It's true.

Lenten Project: Day Twenty

At Bob Jones University, everything, and I mean everything has a spiritual component.

Taking out the trash shows you are honouring God with your time and want to be clean, as He is clean.  Obeying without question shows you have a teachable spirit (always an attractive quality in an IFB female).  Never being late to class demonstrates that you are respecting the teacher's time.  Wearing the long skirts/pantyhose/closed toed shoes displays your desire to be set apart and holy, as He is holy.  See also: modesty.

When you fail at those things, or anything else listed in a massive student rulebook, demerits were given.  A student could only accrue 150 demerits before being expelled. And, since the awarding of demerits would exponentially grow upon repeat infractions, it could be too easy to get in the danger zone.  I got 50 demerits just for wearing jeans to a private home.  If my dorm sup had not been "merciful," I would have also received another 50 for watching The Lord of the Rings.  That would have put me in the danger zone.

The school has special punishments for students to get into that danger zone.  A student can lose the privilege of going off campus at all (being campused), and can also lose the privilege of being able to speak to anyone of the opposite gender (being socialled).  I knew many students to whom this happened, and it was not lovely.

I still have my very first demerit slip.  I'd forgotten to take the trash out that morning.  It'd only had two pieces of crumpled paper in it.

I got better, because I was trying harder, over the years.  I was only ever late for a class once in my entire life, and the teacher was late, too, so I ended up not being punished. Ha!  I was never, ever late for chapel.  I never talked to my neighbour during chapel or class, or fidgeted, or fell asleep.  I was too terrified of being called out from the pulpit, to come stand on the stage in front of 6,000 people.  Yes, that really happened, many times while I was a student.  Bob Jones III was ruthless.

I never skipped class, because back in my day, that was never allowed.  Apparently, the rules have changed some, and students can have a few days to skip if they are feeling tired and need to take a personal "day of rest."  But when I was there, we certainly didn't have that luxury.  If one was a sick, one had to either be in the hospital (right on campus) or in class.  No sleeping in.  No recovering in one's room.  There was no "calling out sick" at the various campus jobs, either.  You either reported for work, or went to the hospital, where you were required to stay for 24 hours upon admittance.

I got really good at staying demerit-free.  So good that I even got a letter from old Triple Sticks himself, congratulating me on my fine testimony.

Looking back now, I rather wish I hadn't been such a goody two shoes, and had let the demerits pile up.  Then I would have been expelled for not taking out the trash, and I would have been set forward by a few years on my journey into freedom from the cult of abusive, toxic spiritualism.