I remember when I loved church…the socialization, the potlucks, and holiday celebrations. I even loved reading the Bible from time to time, absorbing it as this miraculous storybook, full of wonder. Oh and lest I forget the felt board. No Sunday School class was complete without it, the little wooden chairs, and a Bible verse painted awkwardly along the wall. It held value and priority in my life. It gave me importance and purpose.
It also punished the hell out of me, made me feel guilty, and cornered me into a nervous breakdown about 10 years ago.
Now? I don’t know what to believe. Endless references to the inaccuracies of the Bible, whether it’s taken too literally or translated improperly…the gaps of truth are farther apart than Shannon Doherty’s front teeth (seriously, woman, fix that shit). I’m saddened by the loss of confident belief. When it was simple to just believe what I was told. I hate debate and yet I loathe ignorance but I’m too tired to read the same arguments over and over and over.
What would Jesus do? What does God want for us? Is God male or female or both…Does hell exist? Will the world end by zombies? Meteors? Or giant ass horsemen and the largest disappearing act since Heaven’s Gate found their “mother ship”?
I’ve watched Christians spend hours, wasting their lives in order to prove their philosophy/doctrine/theology is the “right” one. Do they want Jesus to high five them? Give them a cookie? A glass of…kool-aid? Does God really give a shit about the logistics, politics, and traditions? How do we even know what God wants from us?
It’s like The Hunger Games…what was once righteous and selfless martyrdom is now murder for sport. I am ashamed to have ever belonged to that form of Christianity.