Counting the Cost

by Jill Duggar

To those who have been harmed in the name of “religion.” To those who have suffered behind closed doors and have yet to find their voice. To those who have begun to find their voice but may still be living in a season of isolation.

To those who like Esther of the Old Testament Bible story have courageously answered the call for “such a time as this” (Esther 4:14), and despite the backlash have now found their voice.

From victims and survivors, to strangers, family, and friends, this book is dedicated to you. May you all know that you are not alone. That your story, ...

The Lord is a stronghold for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of t...

For which of you, intending to build a tower, sitteth not down first, and counteth the cost, whether he have sufficient to finish it? —LUKE 14:28–29

That’s how it is in life, and it’s why you need to be careful who you spend your time with. Like my mom always told me, show me your friends and I’ll show you your future.”

Dad taking a hammer to the devil like that, and we liked it because it marked the beginning of our family’s involvement with a man named Bill Gothard, the man who had delivered the seminar that had made such an impact on Pops. Gothard was the founder and leader of IBLP (the Institute in Basic Life Principles), and eventually, when the film crews and excited whispers and stares from fans became a staple of our lives, the relationship between Pops and Gothard and his organization would become increasingly significant. And increasingly complicated.

The conference was called Advanced Training Institute (ATI) family conference and had been organized by IBLP, the same group that was behind the seminar that had made such an impact on Pops. He and Mom had started to follow the teaching together soon after they’d gotten married, but this was our first trip as a family to the annual conference designed to encourage and equip homeschooling families like ours.

By preventing us from discussing anything controversial or sensitive with each other, the instruction not to “stir up contention among the brethren” became a tool for silence, for control, for guilt.

It was a clear way of keeping full-grown, adult offspring locked into the role of dependent children.

When he said he was giving me to Derick at the wedding altar, it was an empty gesture. IBLP teaching was clear that his authority over me would never diminish. If I disobeyed him or didn’t honor his wishes and stepped out from under the umbrella of protection, I would be exposing myself to potential harm.

I am clear about the mistakes that my parents have made over the years with our upbringing, especially Pops, but the way my parents handled or didn’t handle things with Josh does not influence or justify the release of juvenile records and further re-traumatization and exploitation of innocent victims.

Answering all Megyn’s questions, with Josh watching from a couch just out of shot, was like having a bandage ripped off a deep and open wound. It was agony, so painful that I didn’t really pause to ask why Josh was allowed to be there in the first place.

I’d spent much of my life listening to IBLP teaching on the “umbrella of protection.” When I’d needed it most, it had failed me. It felt as though I, as a woman, was expected do all I could to protect Pops and Josh. Nobody appeared to see it differently.

“You want to know why I’m crying?” My voice was cracked, my eyes burning. “It’s that you think I’m some kind of horrible person just because I wear pants and have a nose ring, and yet you see that girl outside and praise her. That’s why I’m crying, Daddy. I’m evolving and changing, just like that girl out there, but you can’t see it. You treat me like I’m a prodigal who’s turned her back on you. You treat me worse than you treat my pedophile brother.”

IBLP had put a lot more energy into teaching me to fear the world beyond its doors than it had put into teaching me to trust God and discern for myself how to reach a good and wise decision on any given issue.

There were days when I felt more alone than ever. I’d recently read the book Boundaries by Dr. Henry Cloud and Dr. John Townsend and found it very helpful, validating, and encouraging.

You can recognize the beauty and happy parts of your story while also recognizing the more difficult parts. The two can coexist. The highs aren’t automatically erased or invalidated by the lows.

“Sometimes you have to be okay with other people not being okay with you. And you have to be okay with you not being okay too.”

Only now can I look back and see things clearly, like the way IBLP fostered a culture of manipulation and abuse, the fact that Pops eventually put the show above his children, or the toll it took on my own mental health. I also see Mom more clearly today. I see the myriad ways she cared for us when we were growing up, the sacrifices she made, and the depth of her love for people. I love her, respect her, and look up to her. She is the first person I call whenever I have a question about our baby’s health, and I love that we can still connect that way no matter what family drama is occurring.

I miss the ease of communication we used to have. I miss it so much that there are times I almost wonder if it would be better to go back to the way things were, when Derick and I were happy to fall into line and silence our questions. Wouldn’t it be good to be free from all this struggle and heartache? Is ignorance really bliss? I know the answer is no, just like I know that I must at times sacrifice a degree of closeness in my relationship with Mom.

Getting out cost us, but it was worth it. It was worth it to find freedom from the guilt and the fear. It was worth it to learn how to think for myself about what I really believed about everything from God and the Bible to how many kids we should have and how they should be educated. It was worth it to discover that standing up for myself or others isn’t a sin or an act of disobedience. It’s a mark of freedom, of self-respect, of dignity.

As soon as Pops saw baby Freddy, his expression changed. His eyes found their old sparkle, his smile fired up again. Of all the many different parts to him—Head of the Duggar Household, CEO of Mad Family Inc, politician, public figure—it was plain old Grandpa Duggar who I found the easiest to love. There was nothing complex there, nothing to worry about. Just a man taking delight in the precious baby that his daughter had just brought into the world. For a long time we all just stood and smiled, Pops looking at Freddy, us looking at Pops. “Jill, Derick,” Mom said eventually. “Would y’all mind if Pops held Freddy?” “Sure,” I said. “We should get a photo, too.”

What this book is not… This book is not a letter to my family as part of the reconciliation process. I also didn’t write this book to shame my family or just to try and get their attention. We will continue to work through matters with family independent of this book with the desired ultimate goal of healthy relationships, Lord willing. We understand that no family is perfect and that you can recognize the beauty in your story while still acknowledging the difficult parts and even setting boundaries. It shouldn’t make you unloving.

“Speak truth even if your voice shakes.” —Source Unknown