My family joined the Advanced Training Institute (ATI) when I was 13 years old. My dad was a pastor and my parents had been familiar with the Institute of Basic Life Principles (IBLP), the Basic Seminar, and the Advanced Seminar for many years, so when their homeschooling friends told them about ATI and its “new way of life,” they were excited about the program and made the decision to enroll our family.

We drove to Knoxville in 1993 for our first glimpse of the annual ATI conference. My older sister and I participated in the apprenticeship sessions, two of my younger siblings attended the Children’s Institute, and my youngest two siblings stayed with my parents. Admittedly, I found it rather exciting to be part of something so big. I thought it was exhilarating to sing with thousands of other voices in the apprenticeship choir. I felt accepted by everyone because I was dressed as they were. I was delightedly overwhelmed as I browsed the blue-tableclothed stations and glossy brochures, each enticing me with a course or training opportunity that promised to make my teen years full of anything but boredom. I was so taken by it all, in fact, that I quipped to my dad in a moment of delirium, “This homeschool program is like heaven.” My dad, the practical, sensible guy that he is, said something to the effect of, “No, not heaven, but we’re going to seek God about the best training opportunities for you.”

My parents were hopeful that the ATI program would expand our family’s homeschooling experience into areas of training their children wouldn’t otherwise get. They especially wanted their oldest children to have ministry opportunities with other godly young people. They viewed ATI as more of an educational tool than a way of life, so they did not embrace everything ATI promoted. Unlike some families, we did not isolate ourselves but stayed connected with plenty of non-ATI friends and participated in church inner-city outreaches and missionary work in Mexico. Later, in my teen years, I took Driver’s Ed in a public school and dual-enrolled in our community college. My parents made sure we completed high school, encouraged our higher education, and cheered each of their children on to their God-given interests and passions. Yet, even with awesome parents who weren’t as strict as others and didn’t put Bill Gothard on a pedestal, a web of performance-driven Christianity still found a way to tighten its tentacles around our hearts.

It started as soon as we arrived home after our first Knoxville conference. My mom began to get very overwhelmed, even though by this time she was a seasoned homeschooling mom. In ATI, not only did she have several large boxes of new Wisdom Booklets, language arts programs, and other curricula to add/incorporate into our homeschooling, but she was also now required to give monthly reports to Headquarters on how our family spent free time and record how many hours the older students spent on various activities. Sometimes, just filling out the monthly report brought my mom to tears in frustration and feelings of guilt that our family didn’t “measure up.” Although I thought she did just fine doing Wisdom Booklet studies with us, and my dad did all he could to help with our academic instruction, she still felt the burden that ATI had added to our lives. Even though my parents didn’t embrace everything ATI promoted, our family was still pressured to conform to an ATI ideal. Now that we were part of ATI, we were obligated to become the picture of success with happy smiles, positive testimonies, and obedient children. And so legalism took root.

Being a homeschooler, a pastor’s kid, and then a missionary’s kid, I was accustomed to high expectations and standards. I had already decided I wouldn’t smoke or drink, take drugs, or sleep around because Jesus had my heart and I wanted His best for my life. So when ATI came along with “higher standards,” I actually embraced the challenge. I was barely a teenager, starry-eyed with the idea of becoming a model ATI student. I knew I could meet whatever requirement was asked of me. I could easily be one of “them” with the bright eyes and clear conscience: I had nothing to hide, and my home life was mostly wonderful with supportive parents who maintained a happy marriage. I thought it was wonderful that ATI aimed to be completely Bible-centered. I loved the Scriptures, especially the Psalms, and throughout childhood I treasured the idea of Jesus being my Good Shepherd. For the most part, I truly thought I was happy and safe in the bubble of ATI. I enjoyed taking music courses at the Indianapolis Training Center, leading teams at ten Children’s Institutes, and assisting at numerous conferences. I sincerely believed I was following God’s best in making commitments to avoid dating, give God five years of un-distracted singleness, purge my library of ungodly books and music, and study the Bible every day. I was sold on the idea of courtship leading to a happy marriage, and I believed answers to nearly every problem in life could be found in the teachings of IBLP. On the rare occasion when I doubted something I heard, I gave IBLP the benefit of the doubt and trusted that ATI would never intentionally mislead me.

Yet something happened during my seven years in ATI. Almost imperceptibly, my Christian walk changed from being Spirit-led to being driven by an elusive “godly ideal” dictated by the ATI program. As time went on, there was no end to the commitments I was encouraged to make or the lessons I was asked to apply. The bar on the model ATI lifestyle was high… so high, in fact, that it was always just out of reach. No matter how many commitments I made (I can’t even remember them all!) or how well I kept the ATI standards, it was never “good enough.” The teachings enforced that God would be “more pleased” if I fasted more often, or memorized more Scripture, or wore more modest clothes, or woke up earlier, or played more melodious music. So I tried it all, and made very noble efforts.

Eventually, the contrast between what the Lord Jesus actually cared about and what ATI preferred became blurred in my mind. I often assumed these were one and the same. If Mr. Gothard thought dating was bad, then by all means God must not want me to date. If the ATI Training Center had a six-inch rule between ladies and guys, then that must be the holiest route. If listening to a rock beat would lead to rebellion, then I certainly should feel guilty and repent if I happened to hear 80s music in the grocery store. Wherever I went, the preferences of ATI leadership subtly or not so subtly influenced my choices in dress, schedule, music, hair style, interaction with others, and even food and recreation. The goal, it seemed, was aiming to keep “high” and holy standards and maintain appearances at all costs (never mind hypocrisy or Pharisaic attitudes—that wasn’t as big of a deal). These formidable influences affected my thinking deeply, until I became more concerned about what other ATI families would think instead of what Jesus would want me to do in a situation. I was, as far as I could tell, a model ATI student. But I had lost something along the way.

In a very deep way, ATI conditioned me to think in terms of performance-based Christianity—to “please God” instead of seeking a genuine relationship with my Shepherd. My thinking morphed into reducing the Christian life into formulas: If I do this, then this will happen. If I have such and such a problem, I must not have done something right so I must follow certain steps to fix it. I spent enough time at Training Centers, Headquarters, and seminars that I became thoroughly indoctrinated in the thought processes of IBLP. I heard and read Bill Gothard’s frequent reports of “unprecedented” happenings complete with “glowing testimonies” which showed how to resolve this or that problem. Gothard would talk about how ladies should not run because it might mess up their reproductive systems, or how people shouldn’t eat milk and meat products together (like a cheeseburger) for biblical health reasons, or how fasting for a full 24 hours every Sunday would cure such and such an illness. The way he presented his talks, whether at Training Center dining rooms, conference stages, or small group meetings, whatever his new “revelation,” it was definitive and understood to be borderline sin if one disagreed. No one questioned Gothard, or if they did, he made sure to have an answer that would silence or embarrass the questioner. He knew how to make his audience feel inferior if they did not enthusiastically embrace his latest spiritual challenge. Never mind that most of the young people hearing him were already over-worked, sleep-deprived, under-paid (or not paid at all), and immersed in high-stress environments. We were a captive audience; we were not there to think for ourselves. We were there to be an army of “yes-sir” young people (under complete submission to authority, which we were told was “God’s way”) with bright countenances and rote answers for any problem.

When I was 20, my family ended our involvement with ATI and moved on to other schooling programs for my younger siblings. I went to college, married a non-ATI guy, and started a family. But the ideals of ATI were deeply rooted in me. God had become, in my mind, a god who demanded excellent Christian performance. When I excelled at the performance, I had no doubt that I was loved and accepted by Him. But soon the time came when circumstances fell apart all around me and shattered dreams threatened to tear me to shreds. I began to wonder if God had abandoned me. Later I realized it was the formulas and promises of IBLP and ATI that had failed me in my darkest hour. The legalism that had been engrained throughout my teen years came around to crush me in my time of need, and the formulas I had learned did not rescue me when I needed them the most. A perfect courtship did not guarantee a happy marriage. Regular tithing and staying out of debt did not keep financial tragedies away. Faithful church attendance and Bible study did not prevent wounds from a spiritually abusive situation. Doing everything I knew to please God did not remove a deep, dark depression that lingered for a very long time. It was then that the many principles of IBLP mocked and condemned me, saying if I had just done this or not done that then I wouldn’t be hurting this way. It was then and only then that I clung for dear life to the one thing I still believed to be true:

The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.

It was a long work in progress, but my Shepherd began showing me the many twisted ideas that IBLP had presented as “biblical” but really weren’t. I began to see the Bible not as a go-to rule book to conform our lives to, but a love story about a beautiful Savior who has kept all God’s rules for us and asks that we come to know Him with childlike faith and freedom.

While pondering this life journey I’ve been on thus far, it has become glaringly apparent to me that Bill Gothard, ATI, IBLP, and their associated ministries are NOT shepherds after Jesus’ heart. Rather, they lead people into the self-effort of morality, Pharisaism (believing that ATI is a superior form of godliness), and motivation by fear and guilt. They consistently imply in their booklets and training programs that God’s ways can be reduced to formulas and that His favor (or our success) is mostly based on our performance in applying reproducible steps. Ultimately, they lead people AWAY from a living, personal relationship with a Savior whose yoke is easy and whose burden is light!

The differences between Jesus, the True Shepherd, and Mr. Gothard, a false shepherd, are quite drastic (Based on Psalm 23, John 10, and Isaiah 40):

I am continually learning to listen to the gentle voice of my Good Shepherd and tune out the voices of legalism. And I hear the Savior say things like, “You are completely loved and accepted by me. I am delighted to be with you, hold your hand, and walk with you on this journey. I have gone this way before, and I know the path you take. Follow me. I am always, always good. I will not leave you. I am sufficient for your every need in this situation. My grace is boundless. You are always loved; rest in my unconditional love. I will instruct you and teach you my ways. Rest in me. Learn of me. Feast on my goodness. Let me restore your soul. Quiet your heart; see My beauty in this moment. Don’t be afraid.”