Banished: Surviving My Years in the Westboro Baptist Church (34 page)

My mother told me there was no reason for me to contact my grandparents or my aunt. They were ungodly and would never be capable of having good advice for me. She went on and on about it for what seemed like several minutes. It was so nice to hear her voice that I didn't pay that much attention to the bombastic statements about whom to avoid. Finally, she let me speak without interruption, and I had the chance to tell her the gist of Grandma's phone call.

"Grandma and Stacy still love you," I told her. "They care about you. They miss you." I told her about my grandmother's concern and the hang-ups from the Topeka area code. I asked her if it had been her calling.

She was totally offended. "Do you think I want to break up with your father?"

she asked indignantly. "I don't understand the purpose of this phone call."

We concluded with a hasty good-bye.

We haven't spoken since.

Unfortunately, we hung up before I had a chance to tell her about my life. I would have liked her to know that I am happy, that not every day is perfect, but sinners are not at every turn begging me toward evil, and God's blessings are widely available. I meet all kinds of people and have friends of every persuasion, all really good people, very worthy, and very kind. I make a decent, honest living doing work I really love. I have time and opportunity for travel and adventures all over our great country. Most of all, I would have liked to tell my mother how grateful I am to have been part of the Drain family, and I love them all. If it is God's will, we will see each other again someday. I hope it happens. Sadly, they have made the decision for me to not be part of their lives. But my well-being is not dependent on their approval. Banished I was, but happy I'll be, because I have it right with God.

Any system of faith requires making various judgments and holding sometimes unpopular beliefs. I have no problem with minority religions; it's only when taken to the extreme that they become dangerous. When I was in the WBC, I was often driven by misguided self-righteousness, and I spent a lot of time moralizing and censuring other people. I am still very spiritual, and I have strong beliefs and convictions, too, but I like to think I am now approachable, reasonable, and fair. So many members of the Westboro Baptist Church think they
are
God or his only prophets. They feel their judgment is God's judgment. They use scripture by heart, and they use it so well, they find passages to justify their right to judge so righteously. They think God's glorious kingdom is a place to continue judging, mocking, and condemning others.... I'll let God be the judge of me and them. The God I love and know wants people to have perfect love that casts out fear and judgment.

The trouble is, the church has a tendency to switch things around and view them backward. They tell others to thank God for everything, including calamities, but when bad things happen to them, they can't handle it. Their fervor and their zeal can be attractive, until you change your perspective and realize it is all about control.

The church thinks the Bible is talking to them and about them exclusively, and they assign prophetic meaning to current events. I believe in the Bible, too, but everything has a context, and the Bible is a historical document. Not every prophecy has the same meaning in every age. In reading something, I have to ask: Is it applicable now, or was it only applicable then? When passages are taken out of context and twisted, the result is a powerful, manipulative, and dangerous weapon indeed.

When I look now at church members on the picket line, I still see the qualities that attracted me in the first place-- passion, bravery, a high value placed on knowledge, dedication, and hard work. But my misgivings are stronger. I think they are too judgmental and sanctimonious. I don't think anyone should display such arrogance and righteousness, as they do. They have human errors and human faults like the rest of us. They have crazy hierarchies and paranoid conspiracy theories in their church, too. The extreme taunting, teasing, laughing--it seems crazy, fiendish, and extreme. I don't like that the church thinks it is above everything and everybody else. I also don't see the need to vilify people who have legitimate theological questions.

When I look at videos of myself as a church member, I seem mean. I think I might have been taking out my own inner unhappiness on others, projecting all this bottled-up emotion onto the subjects of our pickets. In saying this, I am not trying to avoid taking full responsibility for my actions. What I've done still disturbs me and makes me feel sad and embarrassed. That pathetic, helpless person is not who I am now. When I happen to see footage of my former family and friends now, they look like little drones with dead eyes.

The situation they are in, where there is no room to question things, is extreme and cruel.

I was inundated day in and day out with what the church was thinking. I didn't ask myself if I was doing the right thing. I wanted to get to heaven, and picketing was validating me. I went to thousands of pickets. To me, this was proving I was a Christian, a prophetess. I wasn't thinking about anyone else or what kind of impact I might have on someone. I was too busy thinking about what I was doing spiritually and how I was helping someone. I really thought everyone just misunderstood us.

I did have human emotion. If someone came up to talk to me, I would talk to him. I would read about horrible events in the news, very upsetting things like the rape of a child. I thought protesting was a way to bring people's attention to God's wrath. I never thought I had lost compassion for humanity--

just the opposite.

I used to fear going to hell every single day, and that my family could fall apart. The Lord could come tomorrow, and if I was not showing my faith strongly enough, I would be doomed. Everybody's story would be told in heaven. It was a very motivating, powerful drive to do and say the things I did. I never had a cruel intention. I never had space to think about people's concerns with how I was judging things and the negative impact of my protesting. At military funerals, I wasn't thinking of who I might be harming and how I might be dishonoring them in their time of grieving. I thought I was just enlightening them that serving in the U.S. military inevitably ended in this kind of punishment. Now I realize how much I was disrespecting each fallen soldier and his or her family and friends, and I apologize deeply for this. I no longer feel this way. I value the military and the selfless service of all of our soldiers.

I apologize equally to the families of AIDS victims and homosexuals whom I disrespected. I will never be a political activist for gay rights, but I like gay people and have lots of gay friends, too. I don't judge them, and I don't believe anyone else has the right to judge them, either. I also won't be a political activist for abortion, but I am perfectly okay with everyone living his or her own life and making his or her own choices.

Without question, the WBC's rhetoric is vitriolic, provocative, and shamefully insensitive. However, I always bear in mind that their right to free speech infinitely trumps their message. Shutting down their rights would be a blow to the constitutional rights of every single American. The
Snyder v. Phelps
lawsuit, in which the dead soldier's family had initially won a judgment of $10 million in U.S. District Court, went all the way to the Supreme Court. On October 13, 2010, Margie herself presented the oral argument for the defense in front of the nine justices, while many Phelps family members picketed outside. The court justices sided with Margie in a historic 8-1 ruling, affirming her position that a law-abiding picket in a public place, even if tasteless and insensitive, was a protected freedom. That was not only a monumental victory for the church, but for all of us who like saying what we think without fear of being sued for it.

I am so glad I am not filled with bitterness and resentment right now. I could have made really dumb choices, first out of anger, then out of shame. When my parents put me out without any regret, I felt so angry and hurt that I could easily have tried to hurt them back. After I had time to reflect on my sanctimonious righteousness, my shame could have gotten the best of me.

Instead, I chose to hang on to gratitude. I am happy I chose nursing so young. It's a great, productive field. Even when I look back and see that I was kind of fast-tracked and forced into the profession by my parents, I am still grateful to be in a career that really helps other people.

I no longer believe that I am going to hell. I have a newfound appreciation for God and my right to believe in Him. Not long after completing this book, I traveled to Europe and Turkey on a two-week vacation with my boyfriend, David. The trip was especially rewarding, because when I was younger, I had never thought that I would set foot outside of the United States. The WBC warned us that we would be arrested in foreign countries, where our Constitution had no value. I know I am a work in progress, and even though I am growing more accepting of other cultures, every once in a while, I still get extremely overwhelmed with feelings of shame or fear, remembering how I used to condemn all other religions and ethnic traditions when I was part of the WBC. I had these feelings in the Vatican, and I had them again while visiting the Blue Mosque in Istanbul, Turkey. In both places, I became so upset I started crying. Trying to console me, David asked me what was wrong, but for some reason I couldn't articulate it. It only hit me later that the WBC had instilled so much hate, judgment, and fear in me that I was having a flashback to those feelings.

Thank God, I was able to transcend my emotions and respectfully appreciate those other religions and cultures for what they are, and realize that their existence doesn't threaten my own Christian beliefs. I am grateful to be able to overcome things, even if it's a small step at a time. I really enjoyed traveling, visiting new countries, trying local food, and spending time with great friends. It was an amazing trip, and I'm looking forward to taking many more with David, my best friend and now fiancé.

The church's message that God hates everyone no longer rings true. To me, that is a narcissistic distortion of the highest order. But I do hold out hope for the WBC, as well. God will make His decision about each of them when their time to meet Him comes. Who am I to think that I have the power to say there is no hope for them? I only know that God is not the angry God of their fears.

I believe He wants people to love Him out of their own hearts.

I miss my family with all my heart. I miss Taylor, and I wish she knew how strong my sisterly bond with her still is. I feel enormous sadness when I think there will come a time when Faith doesn't know who I am, or Boaz condemns me as if he were a little clone of my father, but there is nothing I can do about that. I love the God I now have. My relationship with Him is not based on fear. It is similar to a human relationship, described so well in Song of Solomon 8:6: "Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death."

God will answer you in the end. You don't have to live on the block in Topeka, Kansas, or be a member of the Westboro Baptist Church. I will never go back. I have no desire to be treated like a wicked sinner and endure their hatred. It isn't worth it, and I don't believe I am evil. I don't believe that God rejoices in tragedies, calamities, disease, pain, and grief. In my faith, He has better things to do.

Though I wasn't able to take much of anything with me when I left the church, here are a few photos which are the only physical mementos I have from my childhood.

Dad and Mom married on May 5, 1983, just after turning eighteen.

Mom and Dad just married.

At age five with two babies: Taylor is on the left, a cousin is on the right.