Leaving Babylon

A Poem & Reflection on Leaving the New Apostolic Reformation

Work a little harder.

Dig a little deeper.

Walk on water.

Prove your power.

You’re made for this hour.

Cross the line; don’t cower.

— —

Let go your heart;

Let go your head.

(Babylon)

— —

I was promised peace,

But I left in confusion.

Babylon, indeed.

Captive sons and daughters,

Subjected to pagan philosophies.

We were given new names,

Told we were supernatural royalty.

Taught to read omens

And to ignore the writing on the wall.

Living in Babylon.

— —

This work is exhausting.

This dig is never ending.

I’m not walking; I’m drowning.

I have no power.

I’m dreading this hour.

I’m a chicken; I’m a coward.

— —

I’m guarding my heart.

I’m saving my head.

Leaving Babylon.

Commentary on the Poem

I wrote this poem after reflecting on the time period where I was in the thick of life in a New Apostolic Reformation church community.

My husband and I were regular attendees at our church. I helped run the slides during service & counted tithes and gifts after church. My husband ran cameras for the livestream and swept the building (i.e. security) after service, with a master key that gave him access to any room that he needed.

On weekdays, we attended Supernatural Ministry classes. For three years, we learned about prophecy & healing, Apostles and the fivefold ministry, end times revival, and spiritual warfare.

We loved our community. We felt a sense of identity and belonging.

But there was a point where we began to see inconsistencies. The juxtaposition of Scripture with the doctrine being taught in Sunday service & weekday classes revealed a stark contrast.

Hindsight is always so enlightening.

I recall one worship song that would be played often. It was a modern song that sampled from a secular pop song called Babylon.

“And if you want it

Come and get it

For Crying out loud

The love that I was

Giving you was

Never in doubt

Let go your heart

Let go your head

And feel it now”

(Babylon, David Gray)

The song is catchy, and it’s about surrendering to something bigger than your fear, in the context of a love song set in a city full of decadence and distraction.

I found it odd that this song was sampled and put into a modern day worship ballad.

The lyrics were slightly changed to read “the love that He was giving you was never in doubt,” to make the song communicate that God is extending love & the worshipper is encouraged to “let go” of their heart & head in order to experience God’s loving presence.

The strange thing was knowing that the song is called Babylon. That evoked in my mind thoughts of the exiles in Babylon during the reign of Nebuchadnezzar. This pagan king took the Jews into exile. Then, he took the best and brightest of God’s nation & had them taught in the traditions of the Babylonian culture and religion to serve him.

I see some parallels.

In many ways, when you leave the NAR and gain hindsight, it is easy to feel that you were a captive in a strange land. Surrounded by God’s people, yet being taught the way of pagan spirituality. It’s difficult to even explain to people who haven’t had the experience.

I was having a discussion with a friend recently & trying to explain how the hyper-Charismatic evangelicalism that we were exposed to is different from how the gospel is presented in more traditional church circles.

At the churches I attended before, the preaching always focused on the need for the Christian to do more in order to fulfill their calling & draw nearer to God. To be Christian is to be a better human.

At the churches I look for now, the preaching always focuses on the need for the Christian to be reminded of the life & sacrifice of Christ on their behalf. To be Christian is to be forgiven.

The NAR preacher, much like the Babylonian king, will teach you ways to perform in order to dazzle others with your spirituality.

Working harder, digging deeper, walking on water. Proving that you possess God’s power, being an Esther, crossing the chicken line- These are all common talking points in the churches I used to attend.

Realizing that all of the glory is God’s, and our only hope of glory is Christ in us- that is to realize that we can finally stop striving and start resting in the peace of Christ.

I feel, since I’ve left the hyper-Charismatic, NAR influenced, Word of Faith influenced church stream, I have been able to be at peace. I can rest in forgiveness.

I can stop trying to prove my dedication to the end times cause of a signs and wonders revival & I can just be human. Frail, weak, sinful. Yet, infused by Christ with the Holy Spirit and the gracious gift of a life wherein I am transformed daily to be more like my Savior, waiting in expectation for His return and the completion of my salvation.

Rather than “let go” of my heart or my head in order to experience God, I have found value in guarding my heart & I have refused to check my brain at the door of religious ideology.

“Leaving Babylon”.

The last line of the poem explains what the poem is about and reflects the resolve everyone who leaves their religious community must have. It’s not easy.

This line is also a nod to the novel that I wrote in my twenties called Leaving Deally, which is a story about leaving a religious cult community.

People used to ask me often if the book was a true story, or a story about me. I never thought it would even remotely resemble my personal story, but in a strange twist, I have found myself a decade later leaving behind theological beliefs & a church community that many would describe as cult-like.

The characters in my novel struggled to leave loved ones and to disentangle themselves from teachings that were cemented into their minds for many years.

I can understand some of this now, and I have immense respect for anyone who does the work required to submit their life to Scripture over and above the tradition and dogma of the men who claim themselves to have special revelation and authority above it.

If you’re leaving Babylon, please know that you are not alone.