So I have a "confession" to make. (I put confession in quotes, because the word connotes the sense that I've done something bad that I am admitting to, but I don't consider this particular thing to be bad, actually. It's just the word that most accurately conveys the type of discussion I'm about to have with myself.)

I'm done with Christianity.

I went to church a week and a half ago, and it was nice to see all the people that I'm familiar with and that care about me. That was the good part. I did get sick and have to leave just a few minutes into the sermon, but I kind of expected that. What I was looking for was... I dunno. Some kind of fulfillment. I have so much nostalgia attached to church and the singing of hymns, of listening with rapt attention to the sermon and following along in my Bible. I miss that culture sometimes, I really do. SOULS was a good time, despite all of the difficulties I experienced and the twisted ideas I came away with. I miss the camaraderie, the  passionate pursuit of a common goal. I miss the music. Oh, do I miss the music... I miss the intellectually stimulating conversations, the inside jokes, the whole culture of Adventism. I miss belonging to something.

But I didn't find that when I went to church. I didn't find anything but my friends, and even that wasn't enough. I watched the service through new eyes, and I was disappointed to find that it no longer seemed to fit in with the reality of my world. I wanted it to. I wanted it all to make sense like it used to, but it just didn't. It doesn't. But I was willing to overlook that, to try to get back into it.

Today, though, E and I went to one of the high risk charter high schools to do a presentation on teen dating violence. While we were going through the teen power and control wheel (see picture below), we were talking about abusive control. E was talking, and she was describing how a partner manipulates the other with, "If you love me, you'll _______" to get them to do what the abusive partner wants. When E said that phrase, "If you love me," the words that immediately leapt to mind to complete the phrase was a Bible verse-- John 14:15. "If you love me, keep my commandments."

That's a sentiment that's always kind of bothered me. That, and the follow-up chapter, John 15, especially verse 14: "You are my friends if you do whatever I command you." Well, duh. Of course I'd be friends with someone if they did whatever I told them to! That's always what I thought when coming across those verses, and it bothered me.

Don't get me wrong-- I think the Bible has a lot of good things going for it. There are plenty of fabulous principles to live your life by. Waiting until a mature, monogamous, long term relationship to have sex? That's good sense that's been backed up by neuropsychology. Not killing other people? Yeah, that's a pretty good idea too. Taking care of your body, treating it as a temple, a special thing? Also a great idea.

But the more I learn and heal from my past abuse the more I see why I've had such a hard time dealing with God and religion and church... because there are so many abusive, controlling overtones and triggers. Sure, some people can deal with it, and that's great. My friend J? Religion works for her. The God thing works for her. That's how she lives her life, and she's a fantastic person, and I'm really happy for her. But I just can't do it. I can't get behind someone that says, "If you love me, you will do _______." John 15:10 says, "If you keep my commands, you will remain in my love, just as I have kept my Father's commands and remain in his love."

"I will love you if you do what I say. If you love me, do what I tell you to." No. I don't think so. Sorry.

So I guess that makes me an agnostic now. I believe in a higher power, though whether that's an actual conscious intelligence or just the greater balancing force of the universe, I couldn't say right now. But I definitely believe there's more going on than just our teeny tiny little humanness down here on Earth.

Maybe someday I'll get back to Christianity. Maybe I won't. I couldn't say for sure right now. But I am relieved to have made up my mind one way or another, though I didn't expect it to come so quickly and decisively, and definitely not in the middle of a session on teen dating violence! What a place to have an epiphany, huh?

I'm not going to go announcing this from the rooftops, but I just hope that I don't lose too many of my Christian friends over this... but I guess that if they don't love me if I'm not a Christian, then a.) they weren't really my friends in the first place, and b.) they're not living up to that Christian standard they profess? I know I won't have any problems with my atheist or pagan friends. Shoot, they'll probably be happy for me. C says that he's glad that I'm getting stronger. What he means by that is that I'm thinking for myself, making my own decisions despite the possibility of disapproval from others, and I'm not doing the codependent people-pleasing thing any longer. I'm glad, too. Honestly, I'm scared of the potential rejection and backlash (and I'm really dreading possible evangelism attempts), but I know that I can be true to myself and stick to my guns. I can. But oh... I'm nervous. Please, nobody give me a tough time...

My friend that died was only 19. We grew up together in our small church, so even though I didn't get to know him well personally as we got older, his loss is a hard blow. He died of a single gunshot wound in the wee hours of Monday morning, and his parents are devastated.

I texted BJ yesterday, wondering when the funeral/memorial service would be. She told me what she knew, then mentioned that there was a grief counseling session for the youth of the church going on right then. Although I was grieving more for D than M at that point, I hopped in my car and beelined it over there. It was good, and I'm glad I went. We shared stories and memories of M for a good hour before loading ourselves in cars and visiting his parents to share our good memories. They were encouraged by the sharing, but I could see how torn up they were. It must be hard, to have memories of their son constantly surrounding them... even with D, I'm so far removed from the situation that my grieving comes in spurts. If I were back home with the S's, the agony of my heart would be unceasing.

The language that I'm hearing over and over again is, no surprise, that of the hope of seeing these two again. SDA's believe in the resurrection of the righteous at the second coming of Jesus, that death is but a "dreamless sleep" until then, and that the righteous will spend all eternity in heaven. I was raised hearing and reading and believing this version of things, but as I sat in that room with all the other teary-eyed young people and adults, I realized, much as I did when SOULS came last year, that I don't believe that anymore.

When C came home, I turned to him and said, "I think I'm an atheist." He replied, "...Congratulations?"

I should make it clear that C has never pressured me in any way to leave my beliefs or my church and adopt his viewpoint. He's listened to what I have to say, sat through my explanations of Bible passages and church doctrine, and even listened attentively as I read him Case for a Creator on the trip to and from the Renaissance Festival. He has not hesitated to share his side of things, of course, but his point of view is that I can believe whatever I want, but the important thing is that I believe it for myself and because I have thought it out myself. He doesn't want me to believe and follow something just because other people are influencing me to do so (which includes being afraid of disappointing people by adopting a different viewpoint). Have his beliefs influenced me? Absolutely yes, but that's because as I've begun to question and think for myself these past few years, my church's version of things made less and less sense. God made less and less sense. I began to cobble together my own philosophy, based on my observations of the world around me, and then when I was exposed to C's point of view, well... the two were very similar.

I'm not set in any particular belief system at this point. I'm still... in flux, I guess you could say. I'm not an atheist in reality, for I still believe in the existence of God, or a higher power, or whatever, but... although I believe in God, I don't believe in God. Do you see the distinction?

Honestly? I've found that I'm much happier, balanced, and accepting now that I've left Christianity. The whole "atheists are immoral heathens" thing is so not true. Atheists are some of the best people that I know. I know some really good Christians, too, but I think it has more to do with the person than the belief system. Don't get me wrong-- Christianity has a great philosophy, and if people would live life the way that Jesus espoused the world would be a heck of a lot better place. And that's what I'm trying to do-- live the life that Jesus advocated... except without the God part.

I've heard that without God you can't love other people, that there's no source of goodness without him.  Since I no longer believe that I'm an unworthy person who needs saving from myself, I'm free to see the goodness and love that I have inside of me. It comes from me, from a decision to love the people around me, and so many other people have made that decision independent of any kind of divine mandate or indwelling. Atheists, the supposedly heartless immorals, have done a damn lot of good in the world for no reason other than that they saw the suffering and neediness of their fellow human beings and wanted to relieve it.

I've also heard that being an atheist diminishes the sanctity of life, makes it just some happenstance thing that has no consequence or bearing. While I suppose that's true, in a way (for they don't believe that they are the metaphorical center of the universe as Christians do), I think it brings as great or greater a reverence for life as the belief of creation by a personal deity. Consider these two quotes:

“Every atom in your body came from a star that exploded. And, the atoms in your left hand probably came from a different star than your right hand. It really is the most poetic thing I know about physics: You are all stardust. You couldn’t be here if stars hadn’t exploded, because the elements - the carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, iron, all the things that matter for evolution and for life - weren’t created at the beginning of time. They were created in the nuclear furnaces of stars, and the only way for them to get into your body is if those stars were kind enough to explode. So, forget Jesus. The stars died so that you could be here today.” ― Lawrence M. Krauss

“We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of Arabia. Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively exceeds the set of actual people. In the teeth of these stupefying odds it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here.We privileged few, who won the lottery of birth against all odds, how dare we whine at our inevitable return to that prior state from which the vast majority have never stirred?” ― Richard Dawkins

The thing that really bothered me, the thing that really disturbed my previous lines of thinking, was a quote from Epicurus that I stumbled across that put a voice to the quailing doubts and angry questions I have about God. I began vacillating and questioning while I lived in ID, but there was too much at stake there for me to give full expression to most of my doubts. I broke out of one of the church's doctrines while there, and received a mighty backlash from it. That taught me not to rock the boat. But once I moved away, once the reputation of a wonderful family didn't rest upon my actions, I was free to pursue a path that made sense to me, one that resonated with both my being and my mind. I didn't come across this quote until that time, and it's probably a good thing, because if I had found it while I was still up north... I think all hell would have broken loose. It would have put me in quite the hard place emotionally and mentally, I can assure you.

"Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent. Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil? Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?"  - Epicurus [341–270 B.C.]

I guess I'll end with that. It sums it up pretty well for me.

I know that at the memorial on Friday (and whenever D's memorial is) I'll be hearing a lot about the Second Coming, and that's fine. To me, all this talk about seeing them again and Satan out there working hard, etc. simply sounds like people trying to make sense of the bad stuff that happens in the world, and clinging to a comforting thought because they cannot face the finality of loss. But I know that they really, really believe it, and it brings them comfort and hope, so... I'm not going to say a word. Not a peep from me.

To be brutally honest, though? I do miss having that comfort... the thought of seeing the ones I love again. I just don't want to truly say goodbye.

So here it is, folks. Another post about God.

More specifically, a post about God and why his peeps sometimes annoy me.

Okay, I'm going to start this out with an earth-shattering confession...

I don't wanna be a Christian. I don't want to serve God. I don't want to wait breathlessly on his plan for my life. I inwardly cringe when I catch mention of the phrase "God's will" (for your life, for this or that, etc.). I try to avoid talking about religion or God with anyone I don't emphatically know is either a heathen, a pagan, or an atheist/agnostic. (There are, of course, a few exceptions... but they're pretty few and far between.)

Why, you ask?

Because Christians have been given the gospel. And the gospel is all about telling people about God, and going forth, and all that jazz... so when you're having a conversation about God, the near-inevitable outcome is that the gospel rises within them and they go forth to your brain and your opinions and your worldview and proceed to try to get you around to their way of thinking, somehow.

I was there once. I know how this game is played. And now that I'm on the other side of the net? I wish I'd never done that to people.

Seriously. I have so. much. regret. about my canvassing days and the post-SOULS years. So much guilt and embarrassment. Why, oh why, did I do those things to people?

Well, I didn't know any better. I was trained to do that. And I desperately wanted acceptance, approval, and a spot in the world. Oh, and I wanted God to like me.

E says my understanding of Christianity is warped. I say fine. Then I don't feel so bad laying it down and trying to figure out what's real.

I'm not trying to justify my choices at all. I fully acknowledge that a great many people who are or have at one time been invested in my life to a high degree would be disappointed, crushed, heartbroken, or any combination of negative adjectives upon hearing this. But it's not about other people, is it? No, not at all.

It's not just that I have anger issues with God. I fully acknowledge that one, as well. It's more than that, though...

A friend told me not to terribly long ago that I'm a very accepting person, very open, and it's true. As black and white as my thinking tends to be, I have a hard time seeing the world around me in strictly blacks and whites. The claim of exclusive truth always felt off to me, and I resent the implications that exclusive truth brings. (Namely, that everyone else is wrong!)

I was walking and praying, probably about this time last year, and puzzling over church, God, my involvement with the two... my heart... my brain... my questions... and then I walked under this tree. And I had an epiphany of sorts.

What if God is a tree? I mean, what if God is the trunk, and all those branches are the different religions or worldviews or whatever? (Keep in mind that I'd just been learning about learning styles in a class of mine.) What if each soul has a particular "learning style", and they gravitate toward the branch that will teach them who God is most clearly? For some, that may be Adventism. For others, that may be Islam. For yet others, that may be Wicca. But each soul learns about who God really is, just through different means.

It made a lot of sense to me. Despite my rigid adherence to SDAism for so many years, I naturally gravitate towards the faiths that find their understanding more in the natural world, through rituals, and through the world around them.

Don't get me wrong-- I totally believe in Intelligent Design. I believe in a Creator. I just realize that I don't know diddly squat about him, and the God that I've been interacting with all these years could very well be a figment of my imagination because he's not like how I've imagined him to be at all and I've just been projecting things onto him... which means that the God I know could be, for all intents and purposes, all in my head.

Do I believe that God inspired the writing of the Bible? Assuredly. Do I believe that it's inerrant? In intent, yes. There are contradictions within the pages of the Bible, both in details and in more philosophical aspects (like God's split personality, for one), and anyone who denies this is really, really living in la-la-land. Even the ABC has books about reconciling the "apparent" contradictions in the Bible. They're there.

Do I believe that the Bible is the only literature God ever inspired? No. I do not.

See, I've had questions for a long time... questions that I've never fully articulated or examined, because I knew that my faith wasn't up to the test. One of the reasons I hated going door to door was that I couldn't stand pushing stuff on people that I didn't fully or really believe myself. I ran across two quotations that really challenged me, though, and disturbed my placid pool of Christianity deeply.

The first is by Epicurus, and is pretty famous. (They're both pretty famous, actually.) It goes like this:
"Is God willing to prevent evil, but not able? Then he is not omnipotent. Is he able, but not willing? Then he is malevolent. Is he both able and willing? Then whence cometh evil? Is he neither able nor willing? Then why call him God?"

That pretty well sums up why I'm so angry and yes, even somewhat bitter, with God. He could have stopped my molestation and abuse. But he didn't. Didn't he want to? Did he just not see what was happening? Did he not care?

I've gotten the standard Adventist answer about the Great Controversy more times than I can count, and I've handed it out more times than I can count. I've even tried really hard to believe it, and I do sometimes. But it just doesn't satisfy my deep need for a God that cares. Yes, I know. Jesus. Right. Please, I went to Bible college, I've got this down. But that's God caring about humanity. Where's the God that cares about the toddler that was placed in a hot oven that seared her back? Where's the God that cares about the same toddler, locked in a cold bath with ice cubes until her lips were blue and laughed at by her mom's jealous, abusive boyfriend? Where's the God that cares about the skinny child with large bloody bruises across her buttocks and legs from being beat with a leather belt because she interrupted her step-dad's video game? Where's the God that cares about that child as she slept on blankets in the hallway to avoid being alone in her room at night, only to have her abuser join her in plain sight and work his hand between her legs, or spill his semen all over her blankets?

Where's the God that's going to do anything about all that shit? I'm just getting started on the tragic experiences, you know.

Where's the God that listened to the cries and prayers of that girl who believed in him so fervently, who believed all that talk about just asking Jesus and he'd come make everything better? (It's a bunch of b.s., by the way. Just praying to Jesus doesn't make anything better, despite what you hear in Sabbath school. He may be there with you, but he's a pretty passive bystander.)

And shoot, that's just my story. What about the little girl in H who was being raped by her dad and brothers, who prayed and prayed for God to help her, and even made sure to describe how to get to her house after time had passed and he hadn't stopped them? What about the story in Angels Among Us where God sends an angel to keep that little girl from being molested? WTF, God? Really? You're gonna jump in for her, but not for me, or for my girls in group, or for the other countless children that are being beaten, starved, or molested?

I'm sorry, but I'm not content to sit around accept this absent father God anymore.

Did you know that I realized I'm a quasi-Buddhist recently? I stumbled across this Q&A about Buddhism that was really, really well written, and I realized while going through it that I believed a lot of the same things they do. In this last year of searching and thinking and praying, I've developed a lot of beliefs and come to a lot of conclusions that Buddhism has been espousing for thousands of years. Funny, huh? The big, huge difference is that Buddhists do not believe that gods exist, whereas I do. So I can't be entirely Buddhist, but I definitely embrace most of their philosophies. That's pretty much the path I'm taking at this point.

Here's the other quote that shook me up so deeply. This one is from Marcus Aurelius.
“Live a good life. If there are gods and they are just, then they will not care how devout you have been, but will welcome you based on the virtues you have lived by. If there are gods, but unjust, then you should not want to worship them. If there are no gods, then you will be gone, but will have lived a noble life that will live on in the memories of your loved ones.”

That's kind of where I'm at at this point.

I'm tired. I'm tired of performing. Tired of trying to make it work. Tired of trying to be "right"... Should being right be this hard? I mean, if it's right... should it not be at least a little self-evident?

And the thing is... I really can't tell any of this to Christians, because it's appalling to them. It's abhorrent. Especially because I was once one of the elite, a shining star, an example to the other youth and an encouragement to the older generations.

How the mighty have fallen. Heh.

Again, it's not about other people. It's really not. It's about me doing what I perceive to be the best and most right thing... right now.

I am in no way claiming that this is not all subject to change, because it totally is. I could change my mind tomorrow! But that's the beauty of free will, and religious freedom. I have the choice to change my mind.

I just wish that people would accept that, stop trying to change my mind, stop being all disappointed and pouty when the realize I don't believe as they do anymore, stop being threatened by my choices... and just let me be. 

Please. Just let me be. Let me make my own choices. Stop trying to change my mind. I'm not doing this purposely to screw with you, you know. I'm trying to find my way through life, just like everyone else... Except that I don't derive my power to be happy, optimistic, productive, or even functional from God. It's inside me, where it's always been. It was only after realizing that I'm the one that's been doing all the work that I felt free. It's been me that's worked on myself, me that has healed, me that has taken risks and accepted challenges and made mistakes and been a good person. (Granted, a lot of times I was a good person out of fear of what would happen if I wasn't, but it was still me.)

Maybe God uses the strength I have inside myself to get stuff done. Maybe God uses the people around me to lift me up and speak words of life that encourage and inspire me. But I'm done with the image that he's camped out in a tent somewhere inside me with an assortment of factories that he uses to produce various things like goodness, strength, etc.

Anyway, I've probably gone on enough of a bitter diatribe here to last for a good, long time.

But before I quit, I do want to address one more thing that really, really bothers me. 

I am marrying an atheist. It's true.

However, please refrain from the following sentence when you talk about him:

"He's a really good guy, but..."

Yes, the "but" refers to his atheism. It's like all the virtues, all the good qualities, all the responsible behaviors and solid choices and the moral nature are all canceled out by the fact that he doesn't believe in God. That he had questions that were never satisfactorily answered by religion or the Bible. That he saw contradictions and hypocrisy and wanted nothing to do with it. That he was burned by Christians themselves, judged and dismissed because they knew one thing about him that they didn't agree with. 

And I've gotten the "but", too, in regards to my choices.

You're a good person, but you can't actually be considered a good person, because of this. I'm sorry. You fail the morality test. Sure, you got every other question right, but those actually don't count for anything. It's this one that determines whether you pass or fail. (Because really... if a Christian is a bad person or makes a bad choice, well, God can forgive anything, right? And they probably weren't really a Christian to begin with. But if an atheist or some other religion is a bad person or makes a bad choice, well, see? Those amoral hooligans just can't do anything else. They've given in to the carnal nature, and the carnal nature is emnity against God. Yep. It just stands to reason.)

No more "but"s.

I'm a good person. I have been a good person. And I will continue to be a good person.

Whether that's as a Christian, as a quasi-Buddhist, as a Wiccan, or as an atheist, I will still be a good person. Who I am is not what God I believe in, or how I choose to worship him.

So no more "but"s, okay? And I promise to try to be more tolerant of Christians and not roll my eyes so much.

Deal? :)

Okay, I know the title of this post sounds like a downer, but I'm really not depressed or all angsty or anything. It's just how I would sum up my how I was feeling on Saturday.

Going to church screws me up.

As my friend C points out, that may be a good thing.

It brings out all my God-issues again and stirs up the disappointment, the anger, the profound sense of betrayal and loss... the caustic, sarcastic disbelief and the wounded, trembling child.

I don't like it.

But... I think she's right. It is still something that must be dealt with, layer by layer, from the inside out.

I left church because it was the right thing for me. I wasn't able to be healthy there at that time, and I still feel that way. It's not just because it stirs up all that stuff (although I won't lie, that's definitely a motivating factor), but because I always, always slip back into being this fake person, this achiever, this outward-focused, judgmental bitch, and I hate it. The worst part is that most of it is focused on myself. It is almost a given that I will hate myself, hate God, or both while I'm a church-goer.

I can't say that I'm not going back until I learn to get over that stuff, because it could very well be that I need to go back in order to learn to get over that stuff... but it's still not time yet. It's closer than it was, but not yet. I do feel as though I've learned more about myself and who I truly am since I walked out the doors and got rid of the mold I was trying to force myself into. That's been a pleasantly surprising process, and I know I'm far from done. I also know that I don't have to complete it before I go back.

Still, I'm glad I went. My grandparents were so pleased to see me, so excited... it almost made me feel guilty. Almost. It's like their joy at seeing me in church was an unconscious pressure to come back, to make their joy complete... but I can't go back for that reason, either. It wouldn't be real, and I would stifle. So many people had the same response. I felt very loved, yet also... bad. It wouldn't be so bad if I didn't know the mindset... the thoughts of "she's a young person wandering from the path but she'll be back..." I guess it just annoys me to think that the path I'm on could be so unworthy that I must be required to abandon it if I am to be "right" again. Blech. I can't even really verbalize this one this time. That's unusual for me.

The hardest part was not God, was not the quiet pressure from the pleased expressions, hugs, and well-meaning questions about where I've been.

The hardest part was the walker.

"What's that for?"
"What happened to you?"
"That's not yours, is it?"
"What do you need that thing for?"
"You're too young to need that!"
And, the very worst...

"What's wrong with you?"

Okay. Pause. Breathe. Think. Process.

I know they mean well. I know they're caring individuals who are shocked to see me with a walker, when the last time they saw me I was walking about freely. I know it's just the car-crash effect, and I know that they ask because they care.

But really?

There is nothing wrong with me. I am not defective because I struggle with constant, overwhelming pain. Just because certain parts of my body don't work as well as they ought to doesn't mean that I am somehow inherently flawed, alright?

When you hear the same thing over and over again, you start to believe it... and I left pretty down. I'd already been struggling with depression for the last week, and yesterday was a tough blow. Fortunately, I have some pretty potent tools in my toolbox, and I was able to avoid sliding into a depressive spiral, but it was tough.

I think the worst part is that I don't look sick. The walker/limp/stiffened gait are really the only outward indicators that I've got any illnesses at all. My wedding pictures are gonna come out great, because I'm slender and fairly toned, my skin is clear and my teeth are white, and my smile is as wide as ever. My thyroid problems don't show up outwardly now that I've got my acne under control. My adrenal issues aren't emblazoned across my forehead. My food allergies don't flash like a neon sign above my head. My miscellaneous gastro problems don't announce their presence via loudspeaker. (Um, unless I'm having flatulence issues... lol) It's just... that walker.

Usually, I'm pretty proud of it. I mean, I know I have to use it, so I might as well rock it, right? It's beautiful, and to me it's a sign that I'm a fighter and an overcomer. I will not let my illnesses keep me housebound or immobile. I will figure out ways around my problems and keep on keeping on.

But on Saturday... I felt like it branded me as some sort of defective piece of lower-class workmanship.

What's wrong with you?

How about this? How about asking me a different set of questions? Something like...
"How are you doing?"
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"You didn't need this before. How are you handling the transition?"
"Is there anything I can do to help?"

I liked the way the young man in Wal-Mart approached me. He pointed out the existence of the walker and politely asked why I needed it. When I told him I had fibromyalgia, the first thing out of his mouth was, "How are you handling the diagnosis?"

Wow. I've never run across that before or since. It really impressed me. I felt like he saw me as a person, not as a "less than" or a poser. I felt like a human being, and it was really nice. I felt the same way I do around C and my other supportive, understanding people, but it was coming from a total stranger.

I tell you, this has definitely impacted my thinking on how I relate to others, and how the questions I ask them might be taken.

Oh, and there is one other thing that I ran across (inevitably)...

Don't try to fix me.

I'm already doing my damned best, and I don't need anyone to imply that I'm not, or that if I did something different that I wouldn't have to be this way...

Because when you try to fix someone and assume they're not already on top of it, you're implying that it's their fault. They wouldn't have to be this way if they didn't want to, because you're offering them the cure! If they don't get better, it's their fault.

I hate, hate, hate that!

It's not my fault, and there's nothing wrong with me, alright?

*sigh* Moving on...

I created an entry for the Spread the Spoonz Awareness Campaign, and this is it:

This is the mantra that I repeat to myself almost every day, especially on days when I just don't "have it", or days when I'm feeling really insecure and inadequate about my performance (or lack thereof) and my inability to do or be everything that I want.

It was a good, fun exercise, especially since I was fighting that darn depression. It was quite therapeutic, and I'm glad that I saved it for that particular day.

C was also a good support. I came home from church and he just held me, listened to me, and let me vent... affirmed me :) He made me laugh, which was great. He also indulged me in my favorite anti-depressant/painkiller. (That's an innuendo, for those of you who didn't catch that.)

I'm glad I'm marrying him. (Five weeks from today! Whoohoo!) He has passed some of the most difficult tests of a true partner, and proven his loyalty, love, and compatibility. What a catch! I only hope that I can be as much of a faithful partner and loving support to him as he is to me. That's what I strive for, every day.

Houston, we've got a problem.

I'm starting to realize that I fundamentally disagree with Christianity on some key points of life... (or maybe it's just SDA?)

That's... not conducive to adopting a Christian worldview, now is it? Or maybe I just need to work with what I know to be true and not worry about it... God and I will sort it out together, whatever it turns out to be.

My latest status update on fb (from Eat, Pray, Love, which is ten zillion-ka-trillion times more wonderful and enlightening than the movie! Everything that I didn't like about the movie wasn't actually what happened, and everything that I loved was amplified a thousand times. Good stuff.):

"People universally tend to think that happiness is a stroke of luck, something that will maybe descend upon you like fine weather if you're fortunate enough. But that's not how happiness works. Happiness is the consequence of personal effort. You fight for it, strive for it, insist upon it, and sometimes even travel around the world looking for it. You have to participate relentlessly in the manifestations of your own blessings." {Elizabeth Gilbert}"

Replies?

"Funny, happiness to me doesn't come from anything I can do...except maybe reach out and hold Jesus hand while we walk together!"

"If happiness, contentment and peace of mind are one in the same, then I have to agree with SJ, the world nor I can manifest it, nor can the world take it away. These blessings are given to me by my choosing to abide with Jesus. Hay! I bet you could write a song with that thought: "The world can't give it and the world can't take it away"."

Hmm. Sorry. Disagree.

And why? Because happiness, contentment, and peace of mind aren't things that I found much of in Christianity except in short bursts. (Have you seen my blog posts from the past?!) It hasn't been until I have fought for my own happiness, been kind to myself, and, yes, insisted upon my happiness, that I am finding any kind of lasting happiness/contentment/peace of mind. (See last blog post.) Much of my happiness is generated from within me.

I guess this kind of hearkens back to my theory developed earlier this year... the one about how God works in the world and changes people's lives... I think a lot of it is people. It's us. I really don't think the "supernatural" work of God changing the world or changing people's lives/minds/hearts is terribly  supernatural at all. Maybe I'm just more aware of and intentional about the changes going on within me, but I think that much of the work is us, and we just ascribe it to God. I mean, it is God, but it's us. 

I guess what bothers me about the mindset of my two friends it that it just seems so damn passive. Like, "just hold on to Jesus' hand and you'll be fine." Well, first of all, Jesus' hands are metaphorical, so that's ridiculously hard. Secondly, if I had just sat around and waited for God to change me, I'd still be stuck in the depression that God didn't heal me from. I'm healing myself of depression. I am participating relentlessly in the manifestation of my own blessings, and I think that's the way it's supposed to be.

God didn't make us free moral agents for us to sit on our butts and wait for him to do everything for us, I think... even when it comes to something as "trivial" as happiness.

(But do I dare disagree on facebook? Hah! Hardly.)

Blech.

"Jane Doe Nobody, Humble Servant of the Lord"? Really?

Does God really want us to erase our identities in order to be a good Christian?

If so... I'm out, yo.

That kind of "faith" puts a bad taste in my mouth.

Also, church down the street has a new sign:

"Church was never meant to be safe or predictable. God isn't either of those things."

A mini sermon on how God isn't safe?

Yeah, I could have told you that when I was being molested and he (apparently) didn't lift a finger to help me.

Can you tell I'm bitter?

My counselor asked me last week, "So what I'm hearing, and correct me if I'm wrong, is that you're angry with God?"

"Heck yes! I'm super pissed at him!"

Yep. Sure am. That's a major obstacle to wanting to figure out this whole religion-God thing...

Okay, okay. I acknowledge that there are a couple of options, here. Perhaps I had false expectations which led to my disappointment. But really, you shouldn't go around telling kids in Sabbath school that Jesus will help them if they only pray unless it's actually true.

Maybe that's part of the reason why "the youth" are leaving the church in droves (if the reports are to be believed). Because they were told that God can do anything, and Jesus loves you, and he cares about you so much that if you lose a sewing needle or need to open a bottle of glue then you kneel down and pray and Jesus will help you. So they test it out. Bad things happen. It's life. It's inevitable. Something goes wrong, and they pray, and... nothing happens. So they pray again. And nothing happens. And your step-father keeps paying you nasty little visits in the night, and beating you, and spending your family's food money on drugs and piddly pursuits, and still nothing happens. Oh, sure, every now and then you find the thing you were looking for (right in front of your eyes the whole time!), but the major issues still go unresolved.

And so you figure that either you're not worth helping, or it was a lie.

I thought the first one for so long... and now I'm swinging 'round to the second one.

I'm not going to lie-- I'm hurt. I feel betrayed. I feel let down. I feel... yeah. I feel like I just wasn't good enough for God to step in and do something. I feel like he should have done something, like they always told me he would, and then he didn't. Like he just doesn't care enough?

Elijah's words ring too true in my head... Maybe God was asleep? Maybe he was on the toilet? Maybe he was otherwise preoccupied? Because why else wouldn't he have heard me? "Before they call, I will answer, and while they are yet speaking I will hear."

Um, what?

I call bullshit.

Sorry, God.

So I'm just thinking that maybe the way that I've been going about it is wrong, you know? Like maybe all that crazy evangelical Christian stuff isn't where it's at for me? I don't know how obvious it is here, but I've stopped identifying with SDA's. I don't consider myself one anymore. I mean, it's still a part of my DNA, practically, but... I just can't do that anymore. There's too much grief. Too much anger. Too much fitting myself into a mold that I just don't fit into, too much "shoulding".

It's funny, because I remember C asking me a year or so ago, "Do you think you'd ever leave the church?"

My reply was a cavalier, "No! Of course not! I mean, I don't foresee that happening at this point. I guess it could happen, but I seriously, seriously doubt it..."

Maybe she saw something that I couldn't see, even then?

So I'm trying to find my own path. Yeah, I know, I heard the message at GYC, and in Sabbath school, and over and over and over again, that the whole "more than one way to God" thing is postmodernism and it's infecting the church and the way the youth think and yada yada yada.

But what do you do if THE path makes you feel like a horrible person? What do you do if THE path fosters and inflames the anger and the issues you already have with God? What do you do then?

Suck it up? Accept it as "your cross to bear"? Yeah, probably.

But I'm not gonna do that anymore. At least not right now.

You know what's weird? I feel like a more authentic, more fully-alive, more "better" person since I quit church. I was waiting to burst into flame or something, to become this horrible person... but it didn't happen. You know, because all those testimonies start out with, "I was living a life without God and it was awful and then I found Jesus and now I'm happy!"

Why is my testimony reversed??

This sucks. I'm going to hell.

But I guess I'll be whistling on my way there.

I found it. I've found my code of ethics.

You know, that set of "rules for living" that just resonates deep within you?

Yes, of course I lean towards the Christian set of ethics, but there are inherent things that just bother me... whether they be misunderstandings on my part or genuinely held ideals.

Anyway, while Stumbling today, I came across this gem: Native American Code of Ethics.

Read, and be inspired.

1. Rise with the sun to pray. Pray alone. Pray often. The Great Spirit will listen, if you only speak.
2. Be tolerant of those who are lost on their path. Ignorance, conceit, anger, jealousy and greed stem from a lost soul. Pray that they will find guidance.
3. Search for yourself, by yourself. Do not allow others to make your path for you. It is your road, and yours alone. Others may walk it with you, but no one can walk it for you.
4. Treat the guests in your home with much consideration. Serve them the best food, give them the best bed and treat them with respect and honor.
5. Do not take what is not yours whether from a person, a community, the wilderness or from a culture. It was not earned nor given. It is not yours.
6. Respect all things that are placed upon this earth—whether it be people, animal or plant. Honor the Spirit in all things.
7. Honor other people’s thoughts, wishes and words. Never interrupt another or mock or rudely mimic them. Allow each person the right to personal expression.
8. Never speak of others in a bad way. The negative energy that you put out into the universe will multiply when it returns to you. All persons make mistakes. And all mistakes can be forgiven. Bad thoughts cause illness of the mind, body and spirit. Practice optimism.
9. Nature is not for us, it is a part of us. They are part of your worldly family.
10. Children are the seeds of our future. Plant love in their hearts and water them with wisdom and life’s lessons. When they are grown, give them space to grow.
11. Avoid hurting the hearts of others. The poison of your pain will return to you.
12. Be truthful at all times. Honesty is the test of ones will within this universe.
13. Keep yourself balanced. Your mental self, spiritual self, emotional self, and physical self—all need to be strong, pure and healthy. Work out the body to strengthen the mind. Grow rich in spirit to cure emotional ails.
14. Make conscious decisions as to who you will be and how you will react. Be responsible for your own actions.
15. Respect the privacy and personal space of others. Do not touch the personal property of others—especially sacred and religious objects. This is forbidden.
16. Be true to yourself first. You cannot nurture and help others if you cannot nurture and help yourself first.
17. Respect others religious beliefs. Do not force your belief on others.
18. Share your good fortune with others. Participate in charity. Be willing to give back to the people, so that People will live.

I am at once humbled and overwhelmed.

My parents have come through for me... again. Without my asking. Just... giving, because they love me.

I broke down to C last night, after he pulled the blankets off of my head and revealed that I was crying. The man just won't leave me alone when I'm going into crisis! (Which is a good thing, one of the reasons he's so good for me... he can deal with the waves that come up in my ocean.) I had been crying and praying under the covers, and then I was crying and explaining to C.

I felt trapped. So very trapped, financially. This last physical breakdown has/had me very discouraged, because it's not like I'm not honestly trying to be a normal, productive citizen, you know? But the kind of schedule demanded by the combined expectations and requirements of school and work together are just too much for my system to take, much to my utter dismay and chagrin. (And horror. And detestation. And... shall I continue?)

I have no savings. I have no income. I am living off of my credit card. Creditors are calling me because I have counseling and medical bills past due that I can't pay, and I need counseling and medical attention that I cannot afford. I had to drop a class because I can't handle full-time school, and financial aid didn't entirely cover my tuition costs. I still owe SOULS a few hundred dollars (that one can actually wait, it's not urgent, thank goodness).

And on top of that, I'm planning the wedding, looking at things and realizing, "I can't afford this. I can't afford even the most basic of these things. Why bother even planning if I can't do anything about it?!"

And then there's the HJ. That letter to E that I wrote. I'm going to re-write it. It's too snarky, to rant-y. I still feel like a "confrontation" is necessary, but not like that. In a different way. A loving way. (I'm SO glad I have this blog to blow out all my hot air before I do the real deal!)

There's the fact that I think I might take a hiatus from HJ. The fact that E will feel like I'm betraying her, the comment her husband M made when I was planning on going away to school about how that was "selfish", and how that will easily be applied to this situation... especially when she's already stressed to the max with me there to help her.

God, it makes me sick just thinking about how things have become with the HJ. Stress. Obligation. Not just me, her too. We really, really need to step back, regroup, build sure and firm, then continue.

I was talking to Mom about it, and likened it to a game of Jenga. You know the one... You start out with the tower of blocks all stacked together firm and snug. As time goes on, though, and the tower grows higher and higher, gaps start to appear. The foundation gets shaky. The higher you try to pile the blocks, the more delicate your infrastructure, until BAM! Everything falls down, and you lose.

That's how the HJ feels to me right now. We've done so much work, built this tower so high... and that's not a bad thing! The game is moving forward. But if we don't want our stack of blocks to collapse, we need to take some time to breathe, fill in the holes, and then get back to stacking blocks.

R is putting money in my bank account, enough to pay off the credit card and my bills, enough for a few more counseling sessions, and $200 extra for food. Apparently, he hates the idea that I'm trying to survive off of $20 here and $40 there. And he absolutely despises the idea of my living off of a credit card. (As do I!)

And I applied for 3 part time jobs that I think I can do without making myself sick.

I was searching the internet yesterday and last night to see if I qualify for disability, emergency financial aid, anything. Nope. Nothing. It's like I need to have cancer to get help... because you have to be practically dying before they'll take you seriously with an "invisible illness". (Or three, in my case...)

I don't even know where my health is at anymore, because I haven't seen a doctor about it in so long. I just get my maintenance dosage of meds from the doc up in Montana and call it good, because I can't afford to do anything else at this point. I'd like to get better, I sure would... I just don't have the money for it. Kinda funny how that turns out... like a catch-22. In order to get better, I need money. But in order to make money, I need to get better. Hah! I love life, sometimes :)

Seriously, though... this gift from my parents is a God-send. I was so stressed. I felt like my back was up against a wall. I literally did not know what I was going to do. I may joke about selling my body on the streets, but I will never, ever literally even consider that. I can't go down to the plasma center and make some money by donating blood and plasma because of my illnesses. I can't do school and most jobs at the same time... and even in the job market, I'm limited because I can't work around food at all.

So I am blessed. I was thinking and praying last night about how everything is supposed to have a reason for happening... or good comes out of it somehow... and I kinda committed to myself as I was hunting desperately for help with my health/work issues that when I am steady and stable and on my feet again (again? more like for the first time!), that I will somehow find a way to help people that are in a situation like I am. People who can't really work but who tough it out enough to not be considered disabled. People who need counseling but can't afford it. People with insurance that can't afford the co-pays, so they may as well not have insurance at all. People who fall between the cracks. People like me.

...People who crawl into a dark corner and curl up in despair because they don't have parents like I do, and there is literally nowhere to turn.

I know the bitter, chalky taste of exhausted hopelessness all too well. I want to help at least one less person not have to feel the panic and despair that I felt last night... that I've felt these last few weeks.

P.S.-- I'm back on solid food again! I had a rattatouille-esque dish for lunch, and it has caused only minor discomfort so far. What joy :)

Many, many things crowding for the forefront of my cognitive attentions...

Where to start?

I was talking to Mom this morning. R came home, but he was terrified that they would all hate him and Mom would say it was over. That's not the case, and Mom and R have their first marriage counseling session tonight (actually, they're probably launching into it as I write).

I love Bebo Norman. Pandora's on in the background, and a Bebo song came on, and I just (again) realized how much I love and appreciate his music.

Okay, back to our regularly scheduled programming...

Mom and I were also talking about how group went last night (I'll get to that one-- it's super important!!) and I was sharing with her my new views on God. She was gratified to learn that I haven't *completely* gone off the deep end. ;)

How do I describe where I'm at? Well, while I was reading those books on the origins of the Bible and its trustworthiness and whatnot, I realized how incredibly humanity is mixed up with that book. I'm not sure why, but I always just considered the Bible to be a book that God essentially dropped out of heaven, and people didn't have any influence on it at all. Transcribed, rather than inspired, I guess you could say... but the thing is that people did have an influence on it. The authors had agendas and biases and mindsets and backgrounds and all sorts of things. An interesting realization, that was... and I guess it's impacted my whole view of things.

I believe that Jesus existed, and I believe that he was God incarnate. As far as his utter perfection... well... I dunno. I mean, I'm sure he made mistakes, but that's a totally different thing. I think we tend to confuse sinlessness and perfection, and I'm sure that Jesus made the odd mistake throughout his life, especially as a child. But, yes, I believe that Jesus saves. From what, I'm not exactly sure... but apparently I have no access to God except by Jesus, because I just suck that bad at being good... but I want access to God, and I'm sick of hustling for acceptance, so I have to go that route, don't I? Grace sounds mighty fine when you're exhausted from being a Christian. (One thing I don't get, though... I mean, if Jesus was sinless and perfect and all that, why can't I be perfect? Why do I need Jesus? Cause if he was able to tap into God's power and be all perfect, why can't I do that? I know, I know, I've already messed up my chances, but it wasn't my fault that I was born into a family that didn't know how to guide me in God's way like Mary and Joseph did. God handpicked that family, gave Jesus every advantage... which I didn't have, necessarily. So what's to prevent me from being good enough, like Jesus was? Was it just that he was God and I'm not? But if Jesus had something over us that we can't have, then that's not the fair exchange that it's been made out to be, and that whole "you can stop sinning and live a holy life" thing is out the window. That's been rolling around in my head for months, if not longer.)

Okayyyy... anyways...

I believe in a creator god. I'm pretty sure it's Y--W-H, but not one hundred percent positive. I just know he's out there. And I guess I'm more of a deist, now. I used to wait for God to get involved in the nitty gritty ("God, save me from abuse! Why didn't you?" "God, help me to get a good parking space!" "God, please, help me sell these books..."), but he just doesn't a lot of times, and I've had to come to grips with that. I think it's the people around us that are charged with the act of "doing", of getting involved in the nitty gritty and doing what I've always expected God to do. We learn what is right and wrong, what God would have us to do, and then we live it out, and it's the people making choices for themselves that make up the answers to prayers or the curses that dog our footsteps.

G made a choice. A bad choice. He became a bad person,  by his choices. And I have to live with those choices, because I was in his sphere of influence. I have the choice to become a good or bad person, and the choices I make will impact those in my sphere of influence. When I make good choices and give out positive energy (as new agey as that sounds, it's for lack of a better term), that's God working in the world to me.

I guess God just isn't that personal to me right now. I don't buy into that whole "romantic- God is crazy about you" hype anymore. I tried it. I'm sure he likes us, even loves us (enter Jesus-- he must think we're worth salvaging, yeah?)... but I don't see where he's really into a marriage-y type interaction like some people try to make it.

I also think that many of the things we ascribe to being God working are, in fact, the workings of people's choices and decisions. (According to my previous theory, though, that is God working, but not in the "reach down from heaven and bonk someone on the forehead" type of working, you know what I mean?)

I told Mom that, unbelievably, I've almost come to a place of acceptance. What happened to me happened, and I can't change that. I do believe that lessons and good things can come from everything, and while I would avoid what happened to me in a heartbeat, I know that I can use it to keep it from happening to others. Truly, it's total BS that it happens at all, regardless of who it's to, and this world is full of sick, sick people and it really REALLY ticks me off. Gets my ire up. (I wonder if they call it "ire" because Irish have a reputation for hot tempers?) So for now I'm off of the "God, why me?!" question, and more on to the "What can I learn and how can I help other people with this experience?" question. I know. I never thought I'd be here, either.

Anyway, moving on from the religion topic...

I've realized that I've made some mistakes with my group of girls. It's not my fault, per se, because what I really need is training, but there's been no opportunity to train and then get the group going-- I just had to jump into it. As a result, I've had no idea what to do when girls get into crisis mode or get emotional... so I've just avoided that as much as possible, which is not what they need.

I've been too lax on some things, like cussing, and there's been a gradual slide towards chaos and disrespect as we've gone on. Also, I've been too intellectual and reading-focused, but we need to be doing more healing exercises that will help the girls confront their issues and heal. Not everyone learns from reading like I do. We really need practical application, and less reading.

So, lessons learned, curriculum being totally revamped from the ground up, and I'm doing research on the side to learn how to be a better peer support facilitator.

Last night, we did roleplay and confronted our abusers. E came into the class to help me explain some of the changes that will be going down, and she led this exercise.

There were many, many tears, and a few of the girls didn't feel like they were ready, but I don't blame them. It was tough. E took the role of abuser, and she goaded us on with aggravating questions and statements like, "Why did you tell? I thought you liked it? You acted like you did. You know you wanted it. Why else would you have let me do it?" etc.

It was my turn, and my emotions were definitely running high after seeing the other girls go through it... G's face kept floating to the surface of my mind, and memories... gracious, the memories...

I got so angry. I don't even remember what "he" said, but I basically screamed at him, asking what was wrong with him, etc. The girls on my side of the table fled to the other side, and they all hunkered like they were in a foxhole. It didn't matter, because I wasn't supposed to look at anyone but E. She asked, I answered, and oh, I cried.

I trusted him, you know. He was supposed to take care of us, the only dad I'd ever known... I suppose I was hoping he'd be like Grampa. But please, nothing like G1! No, he wasn't that sadistic, I suppose... he never put me in a hot oven, or stuffed wadded up socks into my mouth, or tried to force me to drink his piss, or laughed while he held me in a bathtub of water filled with floating ice cubes... but he threw shoes at me. He starved me. He beat me. He humped me. He touched my sacred, private parts, and he touched me with his filthy, naked penis. He spilled his semen on the blanket next to me, and I had to sleep in it. He gave me Nyquil to knock me out, and heaven only knows what happened after that. He took my underwear off and molested me in the same bed as my sister, as my siblings... more than once. He did things that I can't even remember, that I don't want to remember, that I won't let myself remember.

And still, I wanted him to be my daddy. Still.

How was I to know what a father is truly like?

Hell, I still don't know what a father is truly like.

So I confronted him last night.

I told him that I hope he gets Bubba for a roommate, and that I hope Bubba likes him just as much as he liked me. I hope he gets the same treatment, and worse. I hope that he gets popsicled like Dahmer, and I hope that he survives so they can do it again. I told him that I would say he doesn't deserve to live, but he doesn't deserve to die, either. He deserves a long, slow torture so that he can know what my life has been like since he gouged holes through my very soul and filled them with decaying garbage.

She asked if I forgave him, and I quickly replied, "Hell, no!"

Do I forgive myself? Softer, this time... "Hell, no."

Why? Because I trusted him. I feel responsible for my family, and I let the abuser infiltrate us for how many years without saying a word? It's not my fault, but I still feel responsible.

And the last, the very last thing I said to him was this:

"You can't ruin my life. You don't have that power."

I also wanted to add, "F--- you."
I abstained for the sake of the girls, though.

But it's true. He doesn't have that power. He's too weak, he's always been too weak. He can't control me, and I won't give him that. He deserves nothing, least of all my submission. If I fall to ruins, he's won, you see. It is only by releasing him that I can truly have my vengeance.

As I said my last statement, I couldn't help but smile a little through my tears and rage, because I know it to be true.

He has no power over me.

He hurt me, but I have survived, and will continue to survive. He loses. :)

Seriously, though, I wish I could bottle this rage and primordial fury. I'd sell it as an energy drink. It really charges you up.

Went to a new church this evening.

I was apprehensive, nervous... as usual. Am I doing the right thing? Should I even be bothering with this?
Yet I know that if I don't at least read the Bible and go to church once in a while, this whole "God" thing will be down the tubes.

So I went.

At first I was confused. Where do I go? Then I saw the sign for the entrance and made my way inside. The sanctuary was simply done in shades of grey and light wood paneling. The front wall was white, with multiple vertical lights scattered across its surface that lit up blue, making the whole thing look like a light shower of raindrops. Quite pleasant, really. I sank crosslegged into the grey chair furthest from the stage, but still felt a little uncomfortable. Until, that is, the music started. Then, it just washed over me-- this feeling of comfort, like This is good. I'm supposed to be here. I felt like I was in the right place, and I was glad.

The service was simple, yet heartfelt. No showy lights, no superficial gimmicks... just people who want to live life the way God intended it.

The sermon, however, threw me for a loop. They were going over the first chapter of 2 Thessalonians, and when the guy started talking about how suffering is part of God's will for our lives, I began shifting in my seat.

Haven't I suffered enough, God? Like, really? Suffering is something you're going to do to us on purpose? That's pretty messed up... seeing as how we already get that anyway.


I know I was being a little immature, but I still felt miffed.

Then he came to the point where he was talking about total surrender to God-- giving up ourselves, our self-reliance, all that jazz... followed up by how God is always good, and how everything he allows into our lives is for our good and His glory...

...and that's about the place where I lost it.

I realized that I'm screwed.

I cannot, will not, give up my self reliance and my independence. I can't.

Why?

God, you didn't protect me. You just let all that junk-- that suffering, that apparently you do to us on purpose-- happen to me, and now you expect me to just forget about it and trust you? No way! I can't trust you! All I have left is myself for protection, and I'm not about to give that up and hand myself over to some unnamed threat of suffering in the future, assuming that it's all for my best good. No. I can't do that, even if I wanted to... which I do. I want to trust you God, I just... I can't. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't be what you want, but... I just can't do this. Not right now. I'm the only one that can protect me... and I just can't give that up.


And then I started thinking about how that basically means that, should I die tonight, or should Jesus come back tomorrow... I'm doomed. Because God only takes the people to heaven who will be happy there, right? How can you be happy with someone you don't trust? Maybe the millennium would cure me of that, and I'd understand why and be able to trust, but that's kind of a slim hope to cling to...

And just when I had decided to believe in Jesus, too. Damn. What timing.

What do they say? Two steps forward, three steps back? Hah.

Anyway... it just gets me to thinking... what's the point?

I mean, all this time I've been trying to know who God really is, and what it means to trust him, and how to trust him, etc., I've still been paying my tithe. I've been keeping Sabbath. I've stayed away from unclean foods. I've gone to church (sorta). I've read the Bible or a devotional book in the mornings. I've prayed.

But what's the point?

If the basic, fundamental building block of trust isn't there, why am I doing all these things?

Am I hoping that God will look more favorably upon my lost condition if I'm not quite as lost as the next person? To prove to myself that I'm a good person? Because I'm afraid that God will make my life miserable if I don't? (Although, apparently, it'll be miserable if I follow him, too, so.... either way, I guess...)

If there's no point in my trying to be a Christian anymore... I really don't feel like there's a point to life, honestly. Truly, this world isn't that great of a place. And if this is all that I have... I'm getting gypped. But I guess it's all that I have, so I might as well make the best of it.

God, I don't want to be lost! I really, really wanted this "God thing" to work out... but the issue of trust is this giant boulder that I don't have the strength to move. If it's gonna happen, I'm not the one that can make it happen. You know what I mean?

I tried. I really did.

It's such a shame to be shot down like this.

(What you can't see are my tears of absolute heartbreak and discouragement.)

And NO, I don't want to hear any quotes from Steps to Christ. It's... it's not true.

Ended up in Psalm 34 this morning for worship.

As I was reading, the same crushing disappointment that I feel whenever I compare the formerly glowing promises with the bitter tarnish of my reality swept over me.

Broken promises.

Listen:
"This poor man cried, and the LORD heard, and saved him out of all his troubles.

The angel of the LORD encampeth around them that fear him, and delivereth them.

O taste and see that the LORD is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in him.

The righteous cry, and the LORD heareth, and delivereth them out of all their troubles.

Many are the afflictions of the righteous: but the LORD delivereth him out of them all.

He keepeth all his bones: not one of them is broken.

The LORD redeemeth the soul of his servants: and none of them that trust in him shall be desolate."

Was I not righteous enough to deserve deliverance? I cried, and I was still stuck in my hell-hole. My bones were broken, literally and figuratively. I have been desolate, even while I was trying my utmost to trust in God.


So I started talking to God.

You see?! This is exactly what I mean! I read these promises, and it just re-emphasizes to me that I can't trust you, because they're all broken. I knew I was right when I said that you'd promised to protect us. And still you didn't. Broken promises... I feel lied to.


And I read them again, maybe just to enjoy the feeling of salt in my wound.

However, I noticed something this time through.

"This poor man cried, and the LORD heard, and saved him out of all his troubles.

The angel of the LORD encampeth around them that fear him, and delivereth them.

O taste and see that the LORD is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in him.

The righteous cry, and the LORD heareth, and delivereth them out of all their troubles.

Many are the afflictions of the righteous: but the LORD delivereth him out of them all.

He keepeth all his bones: not one of them is broken.

The LORD redeemeth the soul of his servants: and none of them that trust in him shall be desolate."

It doesn't say "from", as in "God will save me from pain, he will prevent it from happening." No, it says the LORD delivers people out of the troubles that they're in. You have to be in something to be taken out of it.

So, okay. That transforms my understanding of the situation a little bit. But I still don't get the "keeping my bones from being broken" part, because, honestly, that sounds like a preventative measure to me, one that wasn't taken.

But I sincerely hope (and now I have a little more of a measure of trust) that the final promise in the Psalm is solid and sincere:

"The LORD redeemeth the soul of his servants: and none of them that trust in him shall be desolate."

I don't even know how to begin to unload all that is going on within my mind...

I am still on this journey with God, but I wish that I could reach some conclusions... I feel so off kilter, not belonging to "the church" anymore... because I don't have that formula to follow anymore, that outline of who I ought to be and how I ought to behave... It's scary, trying to be a good person without the confines and dictates of expectations or rules to bind you. What if you're not doing it right?

I guess I'm just longing today. I'm longing for blessed assurance... I'm longing for the knowledge that I will make it through life okay...

...but as I look at the past, and I realize that this world is waist-deep in crap and horrible things, and that God won't necessarily save us physically from those awful things...

...I am frightened. I have no assurance that I'll be okay, for disaster looms around every corner.

At least before I had the ability to glibly gloss over latent tragedy with the sovereignty of God. How I wish I could believe that He would or could make everything okay...

...but I know that's not the truth, it's not reality, it's not how things happen...

Otherwise D wouldn't be dying of cancer.

And the HJ wouldn't even exist.

I wouldn't live across the street from a hospital.

Am I just longing for heaven? Am I yearning for the fulfillment of a promise that I don't even entirely trust?

Maybe LC was right. We connect the physical world and the spirit world way too often.

God did not protect me physically, that much is abundantly clear.

But he did protect my spirit, in some magical way, or I would not be the wonderfully strong woman that I am today. I don't understand how I came through that hell so unscathed... except that maybe God did protect me.

Was I reading the wrong definition into the promise of protection? Maybe God won't protect us physically--and blast you, Psalms, for leading me astray in that regards!--but maybe he will protect our spirits.

I don't know. I'll have to look into this more, think about this more...

But I do know that I don't want to give up, although it's tempting.

I got confirmation when I was in ID from L. Don't give up--you'll find the answers someday. I think it was from God, that message.

I'm still not feeling the whole "love" thing, though... and I think that's what I'm longing for, today. I want to feel God's love for me.

Sometimes, all I see is indifference.

Heck, who am I trying to kid? Most of the time. And I don't want that to be the true picture.

I can see you lost your way
It’s just easier to hide
But He sees inside your soul
Where your past cannot define

You’ve been heading down this road
And you don’t know who you are
But He knows what’s in your thoughts
And He feels what’s in your heart

You could run ’til you can’t find home
Sail ’til you can’t see land
There is no place you could go
You could fall ’til you’re out of hope
Chase things that never last
You could never run too far
Love will find you where you are

So you’re feeling all alone
But you are never out of sight
There is healing in His arms
There is mercy in His eyes

No height, no depth could ever separate us
From the power of His great love

So I've really been mulling over this whole "protection and God" thing, because it really, really bugs me. I've been getting feedback from both sides-- "God never promised to protect us (think of the Natalie Grant song 'Held')", or... well.. actually, that's all I've gotten. The other side is me, saying "Yes he did! I could have sworn he did!"

So I started reading Job again.

I used to love Job.

Job 38 used to be one of my favorite chapters of the Bible. I love the majestic imagery it invokes.

However, I'm having a bit of a problem with the book of Job this time around.

I mean... I see the backdrop of the Great Controversy that I've been trained to see, but superimposed over the top I see these glaring injustices. Not only does God stand back and let Satan totally demolish Job's family, livelihood, and investments, but he seems to be encouraging it. Wtf?! I thought God was supposed to be on our side, not out to prove a point with our suffering??

I also noticed, this time around, that it's not just Job suffering. I mean, what about Job's servants that died? They had family, friends, loved ones. Now those people are left behind to mourn their loss, devastated. What about Job's kids? He had twelve of them-- that represents a lot of other connections like spouses, grandchildren, cousins and nieces and nephews, etc. Those people have a loss, too. Or how about Job's wife? God wasn't egging Satan on to test her, but what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. I've heard her catch a lot of flack over the incident where she approaches Job and tells him to "curse God and die", but I totally get where she's coming from. The woman has just lost everything (and she doesn't even know the backstory!), and she is in pain. A lot of pain. An unfathomable amount of pain. It kind of reminds me of Naomi-- she lost her sons and her husband, her livelihood, and she's in a foreign land. How does she respond? Changing her name to Mara- "bitter". I don't blame her a bit.

And, while Job refuses to "curse God", he does get clinically depressed and suicidal, ruing the day he was born, questioning God's motives... yet he still considers himself to be pure from turning against God, even in this state. And God apparently agrees.

I also noticed that I think much along the same lines that Job's friend Eliphaz does-- "God protects good people, and really bad stuff is happening to you, therefore there's a kink in the line somewhere. Furthermore, since God is perfect... the problem must be you. Get right with God, and he'll be able to protect you again, k?"

Aaaaaand... that's where I stopped reading. I couldn't stomach any more.

Loving God, or cosmic bully? I just can't figure it out.

So I started to get this idea...

It is very clearly stated that God will guide us. (Exodus 15:13, Psalm 73:24, Isaiah 58:11, John 16:13, just to name a few.) So I thought that maybe God doesn't protect us, he just offers guidance, and if we listen then things will go okay, but when someone doesn't listen, then that's when they start hurting people. So if no one in my family was listening for God's guidance or following it (I'm thinking of G here), then the hurt would ensue. I was thinking that maybe God's protection was his guidance, if you see what I mean?

But, then... it's pretty obvious that God does step in and actively protect sometimes. Plus there are Bible verses where he promises to protect. (Psalm 12:7-8, Psalm 91:14-15, John 17:11+15- sorta, 2 Thess. 3:3.)

So now I don't know what to do. If I believe the Bible verses, then I'm faced with the reality that God didn't protect me. (And if anyone, anyone tries to come after me with the notion that God was protecting me by letting me be abused, I'm going to have to gouge someone's eyes out with a rusty spoon.)

(Okay, actually, ew. I would never do that. But I don't want to hear that concept! It rings false all the way to the core of me.)

I cannot live with the kind of pain that comes from believing that I'm a servant to a God who stood by and let me be abused, though he gave assurances of protection in the past, and who now demands my obedience and trust? I think not.

God has protected me at random various times in the past. That's what I don't get. Like the car crash. I could have--should have-- died. Why did God save me? Why did God save me from physical death, but not emotional torture and anguish? Honestly, I think I'd have preferred it the other way around! (Gah, talk about jinxing yourself... I'm getting nervous, here...)

Then again, maybe I've got it all wrong. Maybe I'm misunderstanding what it means to "protect". And there are plenty of places in the Bible where God didn't protect those people back then, either. I'm not the only one he seemingly forgot about.

I just... can't stand the thought of trusting someone who would let something like that happen to innocents! And it's not just about me. It's about the girls I work with every week. It's about the kids I see on the news who have died, starved and beaten to death. It's about the refugees who are trapped in a war they didn't ask for, enduring horrific monstrosities that they can do nothing about. It's about babies being raped and discarded.

And maybe it does hurt God, too. Okay, I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. (So far, he's always been callous and distant in my mental scenario building.) Maybe he's in just as much agony as I am.

So do something.

End it all in a blazing zombie apocalypse. I don't care.

If it hurts you too, then why won't you do something about it? Why are you just standing there? I know, I know... you can't end it all until everyone has had a chance to decide one way or another, because ending it prematurely would call the "unfair" verdict back into question. Some rock and a hard place you've got there. And we are supposed to be out there working our hinies off to get this whole thing spinning down faster, right?

I wish I could bring it all to a close.

But I don't have any good news to bring to anyone.

Trust me... you don't want me out there.

I can't tell people that Jesus loves them because, honestly, I don't believe it.

I can say it. I can even smile really big and kinda glow while I'm saying it. I can get my emotions worked up and feel good while I'm saying it. I can even kinda think I might believe it. I can hope I believe it.

But... I don't.

I'm sorry.

I'm a horrible Christian.

And I don't know what to do about this.

God won't protect me... or will he?

I've heard it said that you're going to experience pain whether you're a Christian or not. That's just how this world works. So my logic used to be, "Well, then, why not be a Christian? I mean, better safe than sorry, right?"

Now, my logic seems to have morphed into, "Well, then... what's the point? Oh, yeah.. heaven. Eternal life. Hmm. Okay... but either way life is gonna suck? Well, then... I guess I might as well... it's either hurt and die forever, or hurt and die for just a little while. Meh. I'll give it a shot."

I've also heard it said that God will only take to heaven the people that will be happy there.

That scares me.

Because God scares me.

Because I don't trust him.

Because it's like having a schizophrenic parent-- you never know whether you're gonna meet the nice, happy, protecting God or the "yeah, well, you shoulda thought of that before you did it" God that refuses to lift a finger to help you. (Yeah, well, you shoulda thought harder about being born into that family, huh?)

I remembered a memory yesterday. G had been molesting me in my bedroom, in my bed, so I actually started sleeping in the hallway. (Um, hello, red flag? Anyone?!)

It didn't stop him.

In fact, that was where some of the most shameful things happened. (Where the horrible thing that I confessed to C happened. I actually didn't tell him the whole story. There was more. I just didn't think of it at the time.)

My mom didn't protect me.

God didn't protect me.

I couldn't even protect me. My best efforts failed.

For crying out loud, I was just a kid.

Won't somebody protect me??