If I had come across a site like Recovering Grace five years ago, I would have surfed on.

For one thing, ATI wasn’t a part of my life any more. Sure, I knew of a few families that had imploded after several years of ATI, but then, they were kind of dysfunctional to begin with. And sure, there were parents of friends who thought courtship was code for “control adult children forever.” And OK, every once in a while Mr. G. had said something kooky.

But my family experience in ATI was pretty nice.  I’d learned some good things through ATI, made some good friends, and come through with no more serious baggage than an inability to lose any Bible trivia contest ever.

I felt that I’d moved on unharmed.  Even pursued higher education and a career, though that was never quite the proper ATI girl thing to do, just because I was good at it and liked it. I’d taken what was good from it and gotten on with my life.

I didn’t realize the real nature of what I’d taken with me.

My husband and I got married (the only way to graduate from ATI) and I knew what came next: You have as many babies as you can, and God provides. You avoid being in debt, which is a curse and a sign of sin. And mothers never take on paid, outside work—that would blaspheme God. All of these I had heard repeated so many times in the Advanced Seminar and the Financial Freedom Seminar that I had forgotten that I even thought this way.

Now, I knew lots of people lived differently, and I didn’t think less of them. But this was just the way things were. God’s way. The right way. The way God would be sure to bless. So I quit my established job, moved across the country to join my husband in his fledgling business, and never looked back.

Having babies proved easy:  two in the first two years of marriage. On the fertility scorecard, we ranked high in God’s blessings. However, that provision we had been promised never quite came through. Instead, we suffered two massive business setbacks and some medical crises that left us deep in debt, despite my best efforts at cooking beans and hanging diapers out to dry.

I felt deeply condemned. In my mind debt was simply sin. And it could only be the consequence of sin or extreme stupidity. I wasn’t quite sure what we had done wrong, so I tried not to think about it. We hunkered down, my husband found a job that we could squeak by on, and with great trepidation we slowed down on the babies.

A couple of years later things were almost starting to work. We could live on what we made and someday, maybe, we would begin paying things down. I was nervous that we’d been stalling on God’s blessings for long enough. We figured we could squeeze a third carseat into our sedan, so the costs for number three shouldn’t be too high. True to form, in another month number three was on the way. And so was number four. So much for the sedan and the low-cost pregnancy. Once again the debt mounted higher.

Still, we managed. We replaced our only car with a minivan, and I stayed home alone with four children under five all day, every day. My husband took on more work and was gone long hours. I put the twins in cloth diapers and cooked every meal from scratch, with one baby tied on the front and the other tied on the back.

Meanwhile, we began questioning. My husband grew more annoyed with the limits imposed by his non-traditional education, which had finally left him working as an assistant in a field he hated. I, despite the many assurances that I would find all my fulfillment in caring for my home and family, found myself battling increasing frustration and depression as there was simply no place in my daily life for the things I really was good at, and constant reminders of the things I wasn’t good at and never would be.

Finally we decided it was time for a radical change. We sold our house and most of our furniture. My husband quit his job. We packed our kids in the minivan and headed west, where we could practice law. We lived with family and began to hunt for work. It took time—much more than we anticipated—but we did it. We got our licenses. My husband found work. I even found a bit of part-time work that I could do from home. We moved out into our own house again.

As cheaply as we tried to do this, you can’t live (much less take the bar exam) on nothing. The debt stayed, and grew. And finally it overwhelmed me. You see, debt was sin. And if I hadn’t sinned, then someone else must have. The process of elimination pointed the finger at my husband. It must have been his decisions, his choices. I tried not to let it out, but the distrust and resentment only grew. He knew, and I knew he knew, that I didn’t respect or trust his decisions. I grew more miserly than ever, unwilling to let a penny of our money go to anything but bare survival and debt repayment.

I read of people praising God for providing for them and “honoring their commitment” to keep out of debt and I wondered: Well, does God not love us? Or were we just not committed enough?

I finally faced the heart of the problem: I had bought into a false gospel. I didn’t think God had entitled me to a life of wealth and luxury, but I *did* think that if I had kids, stayed home with them, and lived frugally I was guaranteed to be out of debt. Deep down, I believed that if I just did everything right, I was guaranteed the right results.

This wasn’t a fringe teaching, it was the core message of ATI: God’s blessing (as specifically defined) would come from following God’s ways (as specifically defined).

That idea I had taken with me without even knowing it. And it was a bottomless pit. Whatever it was that went wrong, there was always somewhere I could have tried harder. Maybe if we’d really trusted God with our family size, instead of limiting ourselves to four in five years. Maybe if I’d been more spiritual I’d have felt those mysterious wifely cautions that were supposed to protect us from ever making financially unrewarding decisions. Maybe if I’d really believed.

I thought I knew better, but thanks to the teachings of ATI I had missed the whole point: God wanted my faith in Himself, not in a program. He didn’t mandate the details of my lifestyle, nor did he promise that everything would be good (or at least, not certain kinds of bad) if I did it that way. He just promised to be with me. And so now I try to move forward, not sure any more of making anything work, but hoping to discover that Someone is with me in it.