Leaving the Holdemans: Part 2

   


Not quite a year after being reaccepted into church membership I fell in love with a slender, green-eyed blond with a bubbling personality, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, and a passion for serving in the church. Unfortunately her church was the exact opposite of mine. It was part of the Word of Faith movement sometimes labeled as "prosperity gospel". Women wore jeans, mini skirts, jewelry, boyish hairstyles, a few teenage girls sported tattoos. Sunday worship was wild and chaotic. It was like entering a foreign country to a sheltered conservative Mennonite boy.
Our Holdeman ministers had repeatedly warned us about these worldly churches where women wore pants and preached, Holdeman writings constantly pointed out the dangers of these false gospels, I myself had vowed never to be close friends with this type. Yet here was this cute young woman with short hair and earrings openly sharing her faith with customers and employees alike, claiming to be free in Christ and proving it with her kind actions and sympathetic listening. I was at a complete loss and consequently became dissatisfied with the Church of God in Christ. 

  You're probably thinking you can guess the rest of the story. I left the Holdeman church, married her, and became a "free" man. It would have been my story except for two things: the doctrines of the Church of God in Christ which completely forbids courtship before marriage and does not allow a baptized member from marrying a non-member no matter how Christian, how Mennonite, or how holy they appear to be. I was in a difficult place. By now I deeply loved this girl yet ministers as well as some of the members warned me about my relationship with her and the church discipline which was sure to follow if I didn't stop. Young, naive and passionately in love with each other, we began planning a wedding. Her whole family approved of me and for myself I had pretty much decided I would choose excommunication if it meant marrying this girl.

  There came a time when the ministers decided enough was enough. Three ministers, two elders, and a deacon suddenly led me to an empty building at 10PM one Sunday night. Faint moonlight shone through cracks on the facing. I was in the center while they formed a semi-circle around me. They didn't say much regarding my music and social media, focusing instead on my "worldly" girlfriend. The questions were sharp and loaded:

 "Do you know what we'll have to do with you if you don't break up with this girl?"

 "Don't you realize that to be out of the church is to be on the road to hell?"

  "Are you going to ruin your future with a worldly girl?"

  "Can't you see this girl is Satan's tool in bringing you to eternal damnation?"

  "Are you going to repent right now and confess your sin or do we need to expell you next week?"

  I explained my connection with this girl, our plans for the future, that she was a pure Christian girl, and that I would really like more time to think about this before answering their questions. Yet they were relentless until finally, just after midnight, filled with dread about being excommunicated from the true church of God and terrified of forever shunned by my Holdeman friends, I gave in to their demands and agreed to break up our engagement or face shunning. It was a long, terrible night. In the morning I fulfilled my promise to the ministers and broke up my near engagement with my girlfriend. Needless to say she was devastated. So was I. I left the country for several weeks.

  Hurt, disillusioned and bitter, I decided two things: I would stay out of her life but I would never go back to the Holdeman church either. At this point I couldn't care less what they did to me.

  I came back to Belize, worked a few months then travelled 6,000 miles away, and commenced a new life as an expelled Holdeman since the church had decided to expell me after all. The girl disappeared from my life but the shadow of the Holdeman church still loomed over me.



Part 1 Part 3














                                                  A. Mendoza




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