Carly Gelsinger - Once You Go In: A Memoir of Radical

A deeply moving, searingly honest memoir of a young womans emergence from a radical Pentecostal sect. Gelsinger tells her tale without animosity or self-pity, but with kindness and grace. We travel with her as she leaves behind the exacting God of her childhood, and begins to see glimpses of a Spirit that animates all that is around her. An inspiring book about claiming ones own freedom and finding the revival within.

Maggie Rowe, author of Sin Bravely

With a keen eye for detail and a sharp skill for storytelling, Carly Gelsingers Once You Go In is a must-read memoir for anyone searching for God in the aftermath of a shipwrecked faith experience. Gelsingers wise and poignant writing reminds us that there is hope after a shipwreck, there is light after darkness and most of all, there is love even in the midst of pain.

Elizabeth Esther, author of Girl at the End of the World and Spiritual Sobriety

Being a teenager is uncomfortable, desperate, and terrifying under the best circumstances; only much later can we look back and see the humor and magic of our most awkward years. The same is true of out-grown religion. We need space and time to integrate, recover, and laugh at the absurdity of it all. Carly Gelsinger does this with wisdom and candor: by exploring her past, she gives us permission to journey within our own.

Reba Riley, author of Post-Traumatic Church Syndrome: One Womans Desperate, Funny, and Healing Journey to Explore 30 Religions by her 30th Birthday

I have read a lot of memoirs, but Carly Gelsingers Once You Go In is one of the most profound pieces of storytelling I have ever encountered. It is the story of a young California girl who finds her way into a fundamentalist Pentecostal church and needs about a decade to find her way out again. The memoir unfolds slowly, as the naivet of the young protagonist about where she is and what is happening to her dawns only very gradually. In the last third of the book we find ourselves cheering for Carly, hoping for her escape, for her rescue from those who were sure they knew where rescue could be foundin their own ignorant, exhausting, and, finally, very sad version of American Christianity. I cannot recommend this memoir highly enough, especially for those still trying to understand, or escape from, American fundamentalism.

Dr. David Gushee, author of Still Christian and president of the American Academy of Religion

Carly Gelsingers coming-of-age memoir is reminiscent of Judy Blumes Are You There God, Its Me Margaret?, only this time our heroine prays for transformation by the Holy Spirit! At times, her Pentecostal experience is so bizarre, you will be convinced youre reading fictionbut her adolescent journey is all too real. Carly exposes the truth about religious life, in that some things dont instantly change with the laying on of hands. Transformation takes time, patience, and sometimes, a little bit of rebellious faith.

Jennifer Knapp, Grammy-nominated musician, author of Facing the Music: My Story, and founder of Inside Out Faith

Vivid and engaging, this memoir shows, with honesty and intelligence, the appeal of Pentecostal religiosity to a sensitive and searching teenager... Gelsingers excellent storytelling provides illuminating vignettes on her experience and how it was so often laced with doubt even as she sought certainty A well-written, honest memoir that takes a multilayered view of revival.

Kirkus Review

ONCE YOU GO IN

Copyright 2018 Carly Gelsinger
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, digital scanning, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, please address She Writes Press.

Published 2018
Printed in the United States of America
ISBN: 978-1-63152-429-5 pbk
ISBN:. 978-1-63152-430-1 ebk
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018943326

For information, address:
She Writes Press
1569 Solano Ave #546
Berkeley, CA 94707

She Writes Press is a division of SparkPoint Studio, LLC.

All company and/or product names may be trade names, logos, trademarks, and/or registered trademarks and are the property of their respective owners.

Names and identifying characteristics have been changed to protect the privacy of certain individuals.

In memory of Ilene Lampley, whose unorthodox bravery lit a spark.

I used to get drunk on the Holy Spirit, but that was a long time ago. If Pastor Frank could see what I was getting drunk on now, hed probably try to lay hands on me to pray the demons away. I thought of this as I ran my fingers over the surface of the long mahogany bar, taking in its nicks and bumps. I finished off my vodka and cranberry juice and laughed at something my friends said. To our left, strings of white lights sparkled over an exposed brick wall. A Katy Perry song blared over the bars speakers, and a group of girls in furry boots and leggings were swaying and singing along behind us. On these Friday nights, deep into Bostons autumn, a tavern was the warmest and most festive place to be.

My friend Allie handed me a gin and tonic. I lapped up the top of the drink so it wouldnt spill. The taste instantly took me back to the pine needles I chewed as a child after Id read of their high vitamin C content in a nature book.

This tastes like a Douglas fir, I said.

Have you not had gin before? my friend Bea asked, squinting one eye at me.

No, I have, I lied. Im twenty-three years old. I should know what gin tastes like.

Well cheers then, Bea said, pushing up her plastic-rimmed glasses. Bea was a gin-loving filmmaker, lesbian, and Red Sox fan who always had a camera strapped around her shoulders.

To surviving another week, Allie said. She leaned across me to clink glasses with Bea. Allie was a sharp-witted blonde whom I bonded with on our first day of grad school over our penchant for Richard Nixon documentaries.

To another weekend, I said, carefully clinking my glass up to both of theirs. When the gin hit my stomach, I felt warmth like a cozy fireplace spreading through my body. After spending my life trying to fit in, I had finally found people who were as nerdy as me, and all of a sudden, I didnt have to cloak myself to belongmostly. There was one thing I did cloak, one Big Thing. My friends knew nothing of who I used to behow I lived for mission trips and miracles, fasting and prophecy. I tried not to think about those times at all. My friends were at the bar to blow off academic steam. I came to forget. Sometimes the haze over those fiery Jesus days was so thick I could trick myself into believing they had never happened. But other times, I could feel the ashes buried deep in my soul, permeating everything.

I was an amateur drinker, really. Two years before, Id had my first drink a month after my twenty-first birthdaya capful of Malibu Rum in a tumbler of pineapple juice, served by my rebellious friend from Christian college. I didnt even finish it because I was afraid of getting drunk. It didnt take me long after to learn that flooding my brain with booze was the easiest way to drown the memories.

The room was getting fuzzy, but I didnt stop. I ordered a basket of wings and a Long Island iced teaanother drink Id heard of but never tried. Bea and Allie dug into the chicken, dipping the wings in ranch and buffalo sauces, while I gulped down my drink.