I feel weird as an ex-Christian saying this, but I had a "revelation" of sorts today. It all started with beer, as it well should. I went to a local beer and wine outlet to pick up some new brews and wound up with two really good ones and a 6-pack of a beer-like alcoholic beverage. I brought them up to the counter and the cashier said, "We have cold ones of these, if you want" as she pointed to the 6-pack.
I hedged. Cold was better as I was planning on having some that night. However, I was already out the counter with two items rung in. Within seconds my mind flickered the following thoughts:
1. Cold would be better.
2. If I decide to switch them out, my time at the counter will be extended, meaning other customers have to wait for me.
3. There are no other customers.
4. It will take up more of the cashier's time and she will probably grab the cold pack herself, making extra work for her.
I started to say no. Afterall, I could throw the beers in the fridge. Why should she be inconvenienced because I am not patient enough to let my relaxation beverage chill for a few hours? "You know what? I-"
Don't need it cold. Don't need it cold. The words echoed in my head. But for some reason I had a realization of the fact that I could have better. She even offered it to me.
"Actually, sure. That'd be great!"
_______________________________________________
Ok. I'm indecisive. Big deal. This has nothing to do with leaving my religion.
False.
I actually knew instantly that cold beer would be better. I decided it would be better as soon as she suggested it. Why did I hesitate?
As a result of my Christian faith my whole life I have certain messages drilled into my head which make it extremely difficult for me to recognize my desires, much less state them. I have deferred my desires, even recognizing that I had them, without recognizing my deference because it is out of sheer habit. For instance, at work just last night, my boss asked me and a coworker who would rather go home first. I immediately said, "I have no preference."
Without a pause, he looked at me, said, "You're lying." And then asked my coworker what he preferred.
He was right. I was lying without realizing I was really lying. Deference is a habit when it comes to desires. Why?
_______________________________________________
Some of the most important elements of my faith that have stuck with me and defined me are my beliefs about how we are to be. We regard others more highly than ourselves. We die to ourselves daily. We pave the road for others. We give up our desires for others to have theirs and we try to take joy in others' joy - the joy that they could have because we gave up our preference.
The beer? To me, in the moment I hesitated, I was thinking about the frustration that my wanting cold beer would cause. To her it was virtually nothing. It was a suggestion she made to feel helpful and because it's her job and probably she was bored because it was slow at the store. To me, it was this huge moral, ethical, and identity-related issue that it never should have had to have been. And to me, that was my norm. I went through that thought process in milliseconds and I still do for every decision I make that actively affects others and for some that only affect them marginally.
This really simply results in avid attempts to minimize the impact/inconvenience of your existence to others, since YOU are not supposed to exist anyway.
I've been crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live. Yet not I, but Christ liveth in me.
________________________________________________________
There is only so much you can attempt to minimize the impact of your existence until you no longer exist at all.
Saturday, August 1, 2015
Sunday, May 24, 2015
Don't let them know it hurts.
I've touched on this in probably every entry I've written here so far, but I will reiterate: One of the biggest themes in the life of my faith was bearing the pain caused by others silently, in order that they may be built up. Most of the ways this was enacted was more emotional than physical in nature, but there were times it was physical too. This theme has been enacted in many relationships in my life.
Sometimes it meant letting others "use" me as an emotional landfill. Taking on their emotional burdens (while never having that reciprocated), offering them advice (which they inevitably didn't take), and being harassed and guilted when I wasn't there filling that role for them. It happened in close relationships, online relationships - folks threatening self-injury and suicide, asking me to give them a reason not to die. I'd spend hours typing away to them, trying to show them that they were not alone, that I "get" it, that there's something to live for. In return, I received photos they sent me of their most recent self-injurious exploits, descriptions of their most recent suicide attempt. Their wishes for their funeral, what they wanted me to tell their family members after they'd gone.
Sometimes I was manipulated by them. I don't blame them fully - they weren't mentally well. That takes on a nasty manipulative streak and a sense of non-self-awareness. Manipulation or not, in all cases I felt bound to them, tied up in their well-being, responsible for their sense of worth and responsible for showing them a reason to live.
W.W.J.D.
The question that kept me in toxic relationships for years, that kept me from bettering ones that actually could have been improved by boundaries. I wasn't supposed to have boundaries. I was supposed to walk the extra mile, give my tunic and cloak, carry my cross, die to myself daily, bear the burdens of others, tell them about Jesus, be Jesus to them, and lift them up at all costs to myself. Jesus was crucified. He was betrayed and manipulated by Judas and he allowed it. Obviously it was just part and parcel of following Jesus. At church I'd been told, "You see what Jesus endured - why do you expect any less suffering for yourself?" I felt guilty for not being martyred. I felt guilty for every boundary I tried to set. I rarely tried, but when I did, it always backfired.
I told you there were some physical aspects of this as well. It's almost laughable as a story until the realization of its implications sets in.
Story 1. The time I got my head shaved.
I'm not going into the why on this blog. But let's just say, I decided I was going to shave my head. A buzz cut wasn't "enough". No, I was going to shave it all with a razor. Thing was, I couldn't very well do it myself. My dear friend and roommate offered to help me. So, she started shaving my head - eagerly raking over the same spots over and over again without additional moisturizer or what have you. At some point, I started realizing a burning/stinging sensation.
I couldn't tell her it was hurting! It would make her feel bad! So rather than cause her to feel any guilt or to ruin her good time or self-perception (she was having fun and felt so helpful - a way I wanted everyone to feel), I sucked it up. Until...
"Oh my gosh!" She exclaimed.
"What?" I asked.
"Does your head hurt? There's blood coming out of the pores!"
"Oh, uhh, I was wondering - something felt a little off. It's all good! The hair's probably gone now, right?"
_________________________________________________________________
Story 2. The time I got my hair cut.
This probably happened before story one, come to think of it (logic at work). Anyway, ironically, this story involves the sister of my dear friend/roommate from story one. So in this story, the sister (also a friend) was helping me to trim my hair. I've cut my hair many times before without incident, but she was really excited to help me with it (and I love when other people play with my hair).
The thing is, she didn't have much experience with it. Rather than clip the hair with the scissors held horizontally to my hair/neck and her own body, she held them vertically toward my neck - like a little dagger. She snipped over and over again, tiny pieces of hair in rapid succession, many times catching a small piece of skin from my neck and snipping it.
Again: Can't tell her! She would feel bad! She just wants to be helpful. I don't want her to feel bad about herself or feel guilty for hurting me!
"Did I cut your neck?!"
"What? Why do you ask?
"There's a lot of little cuts bleeding!"
"Huh! That's weird!"
____________________________________________________________________
The moral? The take-home?
Don't let them know it hurts. Don't tell them. Don't show them. Don't wince. Consider their needs above yours.
If your best friend and the guy you were in love with (both of whom knew of that dynamic and fostered it for a long time) end up getting married, be their Maid of Honor. They requested you. They didn't mean to hurt you, even though they did long before they started dating. It won't always hurt. One day you'll be happy for them, so live into it now because that is the "Truth in Christ". The pain is because of selfishness and pride. Because you expected too much. You actually caused your own pain, so it's your fault. They should not suffer the loss of their best friend (in the wedding party even, much less actual friendship) because of your own faults for not seeing the bigger picture.
______________________________________________________________________
Don't let them know it hurts. Your own perception and imperfection is the reason it hurts. Or, alternately, it's supposed to hurt. Jesus suffered - who are you to think you deserve better than Him?
All of these things will be to His glory and will enact his Kingdom on this earth.
Praise God.
Sometimes it meant letting others "use" me as an emotional landfill. Taking on their emotional burdens (while never having that reciprocated), offering them advice (which they inevitably didn't take), and being harassed and guilted when I wasn't there filling that role for them. It happened in close relationships, online relationships - folks threatening self-injury and suicide, asking me to give them a reason not to die. I'd spend hours typing away to them, trying to show them that they were not alone, that I "get" it, that there's something to live for. In return, I received photos they sent me of their most recent self-injurious exploits, descriptions of their most recent suicide attempt. Their wishes for their funeral, what they wanted me to tell their family members after they'd gone.
Sometimes I was manipulated by them. I don't blame them fully - they weren't mentally well. That takes on a nasty manipulative streak and a sense of non-self-awareness. Manipulation or not, in all cases I felt bound to them, tied up in their well-being, responsible for their sense of worth and responsible for showing them a reason to live.
W.W.J.D.
The question that kept me in toxic relationships for years, that kept me from bettering ones that actually could have been improved by boundaries. I wasn't supposed to have boundaries. I was supposed to walk the extra mile, give my tunic and cloak, carry my cross, die to myself daily, bear the burdens of others, tell them about Jesus, be Jesus to them, and lift them up at all costs to myself. Jesus was crucified. He was betrayed and manipulated by Judas and he allowed it. Obviously it was just part and parcel of following Jesus. At church I'd been told, "You see what Jesus endured - why do you expect any less suffering for yourself?" I felt guilty for not being martyred. I felt guilty for every boundary I tried to set. I rarely tried, but when I did, it always backfired.
I told you there were some physical aspects of this as well. It's almost laughable as a story until the realization of its implications sets in.
Story 1. The time I got my head shaved.
I'm not going into the why on this blog. But let's just say, I decided I was going to shave my head. A buzz cut wasn't "enough". No, I was going to shave it all with a razor. Thing was, I couldn't very well do it myself. My dear friend and roommate offered to help me. So, she started shaving my head - eagerly raking over the same spots over and over again without additional moisturizer or what have you. At some point, I started realizing a burning/stinging sensation.
I couldn't tell her it was hurting! It would make her feel bad! So rather than cause her to feel any guilt or to ruin her good time or self-perception (she was having fun and felt so helpful - a way I wanted everyone to feel), I sucked it up. Until...
"Oh my gosh!" She exclaimed.
"What?" I asked.
"Does your head hurt? There's blood coming out of the pores!"
"Oh, uhh, I was wondering - something felt a little off. It's all good! The hair's probably gone now, right?"
_________________________________________________________________
Story 2. The time I got my hair cut.
This probably happened before story one, come to think of it (logic at work). Anyway, ironically, this story involves the sister of my dear friend/roommate from story one. So in this story, the sister (also a friend) was helping me to trim my hair. I've cut my hair many times before without incident, but she was really excited to help me with it (and I love when other people play with my hair).
The thing is, she didn't have much experience with it. Rather than clip the hair with the scissors held horizontally to my hair/neck and her own body, she held them vertically toward my neck - like a little dagger. She snipped over and over again, tiny pieces of hair in rapid succession, many times catching a small piece of skin from my neck and snipping it.
Again: Can't tell her! She would feel bad! She just wants to be helpful. I don't want her to feel bad about herself or feel guilty for hurting me!
"Did I cut your neck?!"
"What? Why do you ask?
"There's a lot of little cuts bleeding!"
"Huh! That's weird!"
____________________________________________________________________
The moral? The take-home?
Don't let them know it hurts. Don't tell them. Don't show them. Don't wince. Consider their needs above yours.
If your best friend and the guy you were in love with (both of whom knew of that dynamic and fostered it for a long time) end up getting married, be their Maid of Honor. They requested you. They didn't mean to hurt you, even though they did long before they started dating. It won't always hurt. One day you'll be happy for them, so live into it now because that is the "Truth in Christ". The pain is because of selfishness and pride. Because you expected too much. You actually caused your own pain, so it's your fault. They should not suffer the loss of their best friend (in the wedding party even, much less actual friendship) because of your own faults for not seeing the bigger picture.
______________________________________________________________________
Don't let them know it hurts. Your own perception and imperfection is the reason it hurts. Or, alternately, it's supposed to hurt. Jesus suffered - who are you to think you deserve better than Him?
All of these things will be to His glory and will enact his Kingdom on this earth.
Praise God.
Friday, May 1, 2015
"It's God at work IN you!" and other ways to make yourself both *nothing* and *something*.
Ripped from a journal entry in 2014, deconstructing some stuff from a few years before. It jumps right in, but should be easy to follow context if you stick with it past the first few sentences. Minor edits have been made to clarify some of the sticky context and to maintain anonymity.
____________________
I remember feeling like Joseph [of the Old Testament] on a few occasions when I had these "dreams from God". I felt so special when [the others] heard my dreams and were blown away. When they said they wished for such dreams, I blushed, but inwardly I beamed. I'm sure [my closest friend and spiritual "leader"] did too.
It didn't feel like pride. We knew we were given "gifts". We told people that these gifts were undeserved and on some level we believed it. We also wanted everyone to be able to experience what we did (that's good, right?), so we taught them in our ways of being. That's how I lost myself and contributed to others losing themselves.
I contacted an old guy friend this week - one that was close to us, who, of course, fell for the "leader" (Oh! Lust, I mean! It was lust and it was demonic and predatory!). He was confronted by us, castigated by us (until he repented, of course), and he eventually distanced himself from us. It turns out, he didn't think they/we were wrong in our treatment of him.
When I contacted him and asked him about it, he said that the group was "frustrating" because of "personal drama", and that the church he was attending at the time was simply "too prosperity gospel". Read: All the other stuff was cool????
What'd I expect from a seminary student? We, in the Church, eat up things that beat us down.We just love conviction. Why? Is it just masochism? That may be part of it, but I think we love it too because it gives us things to "work on", which gives us a sense of purpose and control. When we incrementally improve in those areas, it affirms our beliefs in our faith, our identity, and in either/both self-efficacy and God-efficacy.
It's funny. One of the things they emphasized in my group was that you don't do anything to change yourself. God does the work, yay! In theory it sounds great. But... God can't just do work against your will! You have to let God work. Or, invite him to work. Well, you can't just say the words. You have to open your heart. Well, you have to let go of your idols, otherwise there is no room for God! Oh, you don't know what your idols are? You have to be vigilant. Be a little suspicious of all you do during this period of discernment. Always question your motives. Ask your friends who have the gift of prophecy about your motives! They can probably see behind the veil that you can't. You are too close to yourself to know your true motives.
Unless you can hear from God yourself. It can be hard to hear God due to distractions and sins, demons and that sort of thing. You should create a "sacred place" to pray. And don't just pray, you have to listen! And you can't just listen; you won't hear anything unless you have faith. You have to "press in" and listen "expectantly".
This type of prayerusually often involves tears, worship songs, rocking back and forth, lying prostrate on the floor, etc. If you still hear nothing, or if you need God to "make real in your heart" what your head believes (maybe what your prophetic friends told you), you need to spend time in focused prayer.
Isolate yourself in a sacred space or within a shared sacred space. Think of and pray for a revelation of anything that could possibly stand in your way of understanding the "truth" your head knows but your heart won't believe.
This is tough and painful. It probably means rooting out forgotten and untouched recollections of your broken family, how you were raised, past experiences with any form of possible abuse, patterns that the past has created in your life, how you live into it now... Then, once you see where the problem is (which God revealed to you), you need to pray about it. Think about it and look vigilantly (again) at how those patterns are still played out in your daily life, as they inevitably are. Recognize your brokenness and its implications, and pray for healing. Pour yourself out in the presence of God for healing. Share with others who will pray for and affirm you. Seek visions and images in prayer so that God may use them to tweak your understanding of who you are in Him and the truth, which is not what your experiences have been. They truly happened, but they only enacted lies that have twisted your perception of God, yourself, and others.
Through prayer, worship, prophesies, visions, and "pressing into the presence", you receive healing. Sometimes it is immediate, but it's usually an ongoing process. it may take years, but now all of you is open to it. Until you hit a place where you can't seem to receive any more healing or if it isn't happening quite quickly enough, in which case, you simply repeat and submit to the same process for deeper, greater, and faster healing.
It's an exhausting process. And really, this should be happening to some degree on a daily basis if you are in true communion with Jesus so that you can fall into a place where God can use you in power to affect others and bring them life and healing too.
And when you see these changes - a new openness, a new perspective, a closer relationship with the community, a sense of brokenness, a recognition of who you really are in Him, then PRAISE GOD that He did all this work in you.
So... Forget that you spent multiple mentally and emotionally unstable hours daily putting yourself there, either in isolation or in a group encouraging you to do so in order that they could fill you up (and so build their ego)... Oh yes. God did the work, praise Him. And without hurting you. All pain you felt was the result of your past where love was not properly shown to you. All healing has come from God.
In the most mentally unstable parts of my life, I was simultaneously stripped naked (metaphorically) and mentally exhausted, often as my friends stood by, both encouraging and evaluating me, so that GOD could take the credit for any healing that may occur? And, by the way, none of the credit if no healing occurred?
All while my friends looked on, bolstered in their faiths and growing more certain of this unshakeable truth, while I kneeled, wasting away and shrinking in order to please God and the community he surrounded me with. And I praised him through it - just as I "ought".
____________________
I remember feeling like Joseph [of the Old Testament] on a few occasions when I had these "dreams from God". I felt so special when [the others] heard my dreams and were blown away. When they said they wished for such dreams, I blushed, but inwardly I beamed. I'm sure [my closest friend and spiritual "leader"] did too.
It didn't feel like pride. We knew we were given "gifts". We told people that these gifts were undeserved and on some level we believed it. We also wanted everyone to be able to experience what we did (that's good, right?), so we taught them in our ways of being. That's how I lost myself and contributed to others losing themselves.
I contacted an old guy friend this week - one that was close to us, who, of course, fell for the "leader" (Oh! Lust, I mean! It was lust and it was demonic and predatory!). He was confronted by us, castigated by us (until he repented, of course), and he eventually distanced himself from us. It turns out, he didn't think they/we were wrong in our treatment of him.
When I contacted him and asked him about it, he said that the group was "frustrating" because of "personal drama", and that the church he was attending at the time was simply "too prosperity gospel". Read: All the other stuff was cool????
What'd I expect from a seminary student? We, in the Church, eat up things that beat us down.We just love conviction. Why? Is it just masochism? That may be part of it, but I think we love it too because it gives us things to "work on", which gives us a sense of purpose and control. When we incrementally improve in those areas, it affirms our beliefs in our faith, our identity, and in either/both self-efficacy and God-efficacy.
It's funny. One of the things they emphasized in my group was that you don't do anything to change yourself. God does the work, yay! In theory it sounds great. But... God can't just do work against your will! You have to let God work. Or, invite him to work. Well, you can't just say the words. You have to open your heart. Well, you have to let go of your idols, otherwise there is no room for God! Oh, you don't know what your idols are? You have to be vigilant. Be a little suspicious of all you do during this period of discernment. Always question your motives. Ask your friends who have the gift of prophecy about your motives! They can probably see behind the veil that you can't. You are too close to yourself to know your true motives.
Unless you can hear from God yourself. It can be hard to hear God due to distractions and sins, demons and that sort of thing. You should create a "sacred place" to pray. And don't just pray, you have to listen! And you can't just listen; you won't hear anything unless you have faith. You have to "press in" and listen "expectantly".
This type of prayer
Isolate yourself in a sacred space or within a shared sacred space. Think of and pray for a revelation of anything that could possibly stand in your way of understanding the "truth" your head knows but your heart won't believe.
This is tough and painful. It probably means rooting out forgotten and untouched recollections of your broken family, how you were raised, past experiences with any form of possible abuse, patterns that the past has created in your life, how you live into it now... Then, once you see where the problem is (which God revealed to you), you need to pray about it. Think about it and look vigilantly (again) at how those patterns are still played out in your daily life, as they inevitably are. Recognize your brokenness and its implications, and pray for healing. Pour yourself out in the presence of God for healing. Share with others who will pray for and affirm you. Seek visions and images in prayer so that God may use them to tweak your understanding of who you are in Him and the truth, which is not what your experiences have been. They truly happened, but they only enacted lies that have twisted your perception of God, yourself, and others.
Through prayer, worship, prophesies, visions, and "pressing into the presence", you receive healing. Sometimes it is immediate, but it's usually an ongoing process. it may take years, but now all of you is open to it. Until you hit a place where you can't seem to receive any more healing or if it isn't happening quite quickly enough, in which case, you simply repeat and submit to the same process for deeper, greater, and faster healing.
It's an exhausting process. And really, this should be happening to some degree on a daily basis if you are in true communion with Jesus so that you can fall into a place where God can use you in power to affect others and bring them life and healing too.
And when you see these changes - a new openness, a new perspective, a closer relationship with the community, a sense of brokenness, a recognition of who you really are in Him, then PRAISE GOD that He did all this work in you.
So... Forget that you spent multiple mentally and emotionally unstable hours daily putting yourself there, either in isolation or in a group encouraging you to do so in order that they could fill you up (and so build their ego)... Oh yes. God did the work, praise Him. And without hurting you. All pain you felt was the result of your past where love was not properly shown to you. All healing has come from God.
In the most mentally unstable parts of my life, I was simultaneously stripped naked (metaphorically) and mentally exhausted, often as my friends stood by, both encouraging and evaluating me, so that GOD could take the credit for any healing that may occur? And, by the way, none of the credit if no healing occurred?
All while my friends looked on, bolstered in their faiths and growing more certain of this unshakeable truth, while I kneeled, wasting away and shrinking in order to please God and the community he surrounded me with. And I praised him through it - just as I "ought".
Monday, February 9, 2015
"When is the last time you jumped for joy?" Please don't ask.
I'm on Reddit's ex-Christian subreddit. It's one of the few places I know to go to find like-mindedness. Except, not that many people are very like-minded. In large number, ex-Christians are immediately happy to be free of their religion, it seems.
I made a promise to myself, that if I left, I wouldn't leave lightly. And I'm not. And not just because of that promise. My road has made it impossible to leave lightly. For me, my experience with religion, with Christianity, has been overall, quite positive. For me, leaving means leaving a community that loved me deeply. Leaving people who wouldn't judge my journey, but would cry for me. Leaving churches who thought I had value. No one is perfect. No one's support of me has been perfect. But a lot of good people tried. And I have walked closer with Christian people when I was a Christian, than I may ever walk with another human being ever again. And that terrifies me.
Leaving, for me, is not a joyful thing. It's not a rebellious thing. It's not jumping for joy in the face of those who dare defy me. It's not seeking out debate to tear people apart (though, admittedly, I find myself in more debates because I no longer feel the need to apologize for my beliefs or to simply submit to the "stronger" person). It's having random moments when I am racked with tears, missing something that I loved dearly, and know that I'll never have again - even if I re-converted.
This evening, I began a Coursera class on Positive Psychology. Two exercises already occurred that shook me. I don't even think they were intended to. Such is the journey of the newly faithless.
1. It asked me to recall a time when I felt very negatively and to think about why, and what it felt/feels like. Some people in the video felt awkward about it and wanted to move on. Some felt tense, but uncomfortable. I felt anger. Straight up anger. Something I never felt allowed to feel in Christianity, unless it was directed to a "den of thieves" in the temple. Righteous anger was ok. Anger directed towards those who made a mockery of God. Otherwise, sympathy, understanding and compassion.
But I'm realizing how much turning my cheek benefitted others in the past. Not towards knowing love or knowing God, but towards taking advantage and manipulating, and taking from me. And you know what my response was supposed to be? Forgiveness. And giving my cloak.
As a woman, that meant very different things than it did to a man in the church, by the way. Side-note for another time. But yes, let's talk about rape and turning the other cheek, and giving your cloak as well, sometime. This is a topic at women's retreats all the time. Why? Rape, incest, molestation. People need forgiveness. And women need to know how to love those who have hurt them.
Do they talk about this at men's retreats? No. They talk about being caretakers for their wives and children. How to be a tower for them. How to lead them.
Anyway. Those topics aren't even that closely personal to me. But it resounds deeply with my experience as a woman. Sexual atrocities or not, we hear the lesson on forgiveness and submission all the time. It defines us. The Power of a Praying Wife. It's supporting her husband while feeling denied and belittled ALL THE TIME. In marriage, even. Which isn't that different than how many women feel in the church, honestly.
So yes. We sacrifice. All the time. And people benefit. All the time. And hopefully some people see God. That's what we're told, you know. That we are like Jesus because we are sacrificing our very souls for another. And if they don't appreciate it or recognize it, what is the advice? Give until you are dead. Jesus did. Will you not follow him? How dare you claim to follow him if you don't do as he did? Die for it. Die. And as you die, pray that God would forgive those who put you in this place, for they know not what they do.
You know what? Some don't know. Some truly don't. But a lot do. A lot take advantage of your position as a sacrificial lamb. Also, for those who don't know? Maybe they would benefit more from you telling them than you taking it for them and letting them benefit from your sacrifice and those around you who sacrifice.
I'm all for rehabilitation of criminals. I am NOT for letting them get by with it. Tell the judge what they did. Tell them what they did. Let them see the pain and the anger and the incredible loss they caused at your expense. Let them see it. Don't feel shame. Let them feel the loss they've caused. You've felt loss. Let them feel it. If they don't feel it, all they experience from your loss is gain. And no one grows from it. You are still stunted and feel held back as a result of their actions. And they still benefit from your acquiescence. Or support. Or submission.
For those who don't know what they've done? Tell them! If they are good people with good hearts who desire good, they too will desire change. Submission is only useful when it's mutual. Not necessarily equal, but mutual.
So. Positive Psychology. We were supposed to share what made us upset lately. All I felt was anger racking my body. Anger. I am feeling years of being a damn doormat. Years of being told by males how to be a doormat, who didn't know that being a female often feels like just being a damn doormat anyway. Must we be the doormats who are beat to death to be rid of the dirt from your feet? Must we? Always?
Anger is the primary emotion I feel now. Now that I know I can have opinions. Now that I know they are worth listening to and considering for validity. Knowing that I am better than being written off, yet here I am, written off. At work. At home. Wherever I am. Wherever reminds me of "turning the other cheek", just reminds me of what it feels like to be a prostitute, jerking off some guy to let him cum all over me, just so he can do it again to the next girl. But that's what love is, isn't it?
That's what I, as a woman, felt was right (figuratively, obviously - we don't use sex metaphors in the church). And here I am now, enraged at all I've endured for others at the hand of my old religion, who probably would have benefited from being set-straight. Who probably hurt a lot more people in a lot of the same ways.
The next questions was "What has made you almost jump for joy?"
I don't remember. Maybe Universal Studios. Maybe getting a pay raise - that I got from speaking my own mind and defending myself when no one else did, thank you.
Maybe I don't remember. Maybe my biggest joy is the hope that I will reclaim my biggest losses? Maybe my fear is that I never will.
Maybe I don't remember joy, because right now, all of this sucks. Maybe all the times I've jumped up and down lately have been out of anger and exasperation that I finally feel allowed to feel. Hey, maybe feeling allowed to feel those things is worth celebrating.
But right now, the journey is hard. It hurts. It's not fun. It's not super exhilarating, but with rare occasion. But this is where I find myself. And I think and hope the joy will return once I feel my anger has been expressed and I feel free.
I long for that day, and I hope that it arrives.
I made a promise to myself, that if I left, I wouldn't leave lightly. And I'm not. And not just because of that promise. My road has made it impossible to leave lightly. For me, my experience with religion, with Christianity, has been overall, quite positive. For me, leaving means leaving a community that loved me deeply. Leaving people who wouldn't judge my journey, but would cry for me. Leaving churches who thought I had value. No one is perfect. No one's support of me has been perfect. But a lot of good people tried. And I have walked closer with Christian people when I was a Christian, than I may ever walk with another human being ever again. And that terrifies me.
Leaving, for me, is not a joyful thing. It's not a rebellious thing. It's not jumping for joy in the face of those who dare defy me. It's not seeking out debate to tear people apart (though, admittedly, I find myself in more debates because I no longer feel the need to apologize for my beliefs or to simply submit to the "stronger" person). It's having random moments when I am racked with tears, missing something that I loved dearly, and know that I'll never have again - even if I re-converted.
This evening, I began a Coursera class on Positive Psychology. Two exercises already occurred that shook me. I don't even think they were intended to. Such is the journey of the newly faithless.
1. It asked me to recall a time when I felt very negatively and to think about why, and what it felt/feels like. Some people in the video felt awkward about it and wanted to move on. Some felt tense, but uncomfortable. I felt anger. Straight up anger. Something I never felt allowed to feel in Christianity, unless it was directed to a "den of thieves" in the temple. Righteous anger was ok. Anger directed towards those who made a mockery of God. Otherwise, sympathy, understanding and compassion.
But I'm realizing how much turning my cheek benefitted others in the past. Not towards knowing love or knowing God, but towards taking advantage and manipulating, and taking from me. And you know what my response was supposed to be? Forgiveness. And giving my cloak.
As a woman, that meant very different things than it did to a man in the church, by the way. Side-note for another time. But yes, let's talk about rape and turning the other cheek, and giving your cloak as well, sometime. This is a topic at women's retreats all the time. Why? Rape, incest, molestation. People need forgiveness. And women need to know how to love those who have hurt them.
Do they talk about this at men's retreats? No. They talk about being caretakers for their wives and children. How to be a tower for them. How to lead them.
Anyway. Those topics aren't even that closely personal to me. But it resounds deeply with my experience as a woman. Sexual atrocities or not, we hear the lesson on forgiveness and submission all the time. It defines us. The Power of a Praying Wife. It's supporting her husband while feeling denied and belittled ALL THE TIME. In marriage, even. Which isn't that different than how many women feel in the church, honestly.
So yes. We sacrifice. All the time. And people benefit. All the time. And hopefully some people see God. That's what we're told, you know. That we are like Jesus because we are sacrificing our very souls for another. And if they don't appreciate it or recognize it, what is the advice? Give until you are dead. Jesus did. Will you not follow him? How dare you claim to follow him if you don't do as he did? Die for it. Die. And as you die, pray that God would forgive those who put you in this place, for they know not what they do.
You know what? Some don't know. Some truly don't. But a lot do. A lot take advantage of your position as a sacrificial lamb. Also, for those who don't know? Maybe they would benefit more from you telling them than you taking it for them and letting them benefit from your sacrifice and those around you who sacrifice.
I'm all for rehabilitation of criminals. I am NOT for letting them get by with it. Tell the judge what they did. Tell them what they did. Let them see the pain and the anger and the incredible loss they caused at your expense. Let them see it. Don't feel shame. Let them feel the loss they've caused. You've felt loss. Let them feel it. If they don't feel it, all they experience from your loss is gain. And no one grows from it. You are still stunted and feel held back as a result of their actions. And they still benefit from your acquiescence. Or support. Or submission.
For those who don't know what they've done? Tell them! If they are good people with good hearts who desire good, they too will desire change. Submission is only useful when it's mutual. Not necessarily equal, but mutual.
So. Positive Psychology. We were supposed to share what made us upset lately. All I felt was anger racking my body. Anger. I am feeling years of being a damn doormat. Years of being told by males how to be a doormat, who didn't know that being a female often feels like just being a damn doormat anyway. Must we be the doormats who are beat to death to be rid of the dirt from your feet? Must we? Always?
Anger is the primary emotion I feel now. Now that I know I can have opinions. Now that I know they are worth listening to and considering for validity. Knowing that I am better than being written off, yet here I am, written off. At work. At home. Wherever I am. Wherever reminds me of "turning the other cheek", just reminds me of what it feels like to be a prostitute, jerking off some guy to let him cum all over me, just so he can do it again to the next girl. But that's what love is, isn't it?
That's what I, as a woman, felt was right (figuratively, obviously - we don't use sex metaphors in the church). And here I am now, enraged at all I've endured for others at the hand of my old religion, who probably would have benefited from being set-straight. Who probably hurt a lot more people in a lot of the same ways.
The next questions was "What has made you almost jump for joy?"
I don't remember. Maybe Universal Studios. Maybe getting a pay raise - that I got from speaking my own mind and defending myself when no one else did, thank you.
Maybe I don't remember. Maybe my biggest joy is the hope that I will reclaim my biggest losses? Maybe my fear is that I never will.
Maybe I don't remember joy, because right now, all of this sucks. Maybe all the times I've jumped up and down lately have been out of anger and exasperation that I finally feel allowed to feel. Hey, maybe feeling allowed to feel those things is worth celebrating.
But right now, the journey is hard. It hurts. It's not fun. It's not super exhilarating, but with rare occasion. But this is where I find myself. And I think and hope the joy will return once I feel my anger has been expressed and I feel free.
I long for that day, and I hope that it arrives.
Wednesday, February 4, 2015
And this warrants a blog?
The title of my blog is: Leaving My Religion. The content is about leaving my religion.
Why, exactly, does this warrant a blog? It doesn't. Not by its own right. This blog was meant to be for my own space. I just realized it connects to my main blog - most of which contains heavily Christian posts. I wasn't intending on "going public".
I actually left this post mid-draft to try and delete this blog. I don't know how. I will just have to hope that my "followers" on my previous blog don't find this one (and that they aren't notified by Blogger that it exists), or I will just have to own up to this, far more publicly attached to my identity than I ever wanted it to be.
I'm in a weird spot. An unfamiliar spot. I don't know when it happened exactly, but I think the process has been happening for a while. The process of deconversion. I still sneer at the word because it sounds threatening and gross to me. I also hate the word because it makes me feel like a piece of technology going through a phase (one that many non-religious people might refer to as an "upgrade"). It sounds so standard and clinical. It sounds like a process rather than an identity.
The scariest thing is the thought that I don't know my identity without my faith. Everything looks a little dimmer, because I've grown to believe that you can't have an identity or know your identity (even if you could have one) without God - specifically the Christian God.
What's scary to me is that the whole time I gave my life to my faith and to my God, I lost myself. We used to sing "Empty Me" because we thought we were broken and needed fixing. And now I don't sing. I fear that I was emptied. I fear that I never allowed myself to know me. I recognize the fundamental guilt I feel for not fitting the model.
A particular theologist (whom I actually really admire) did an interesting thing in a book he wrote. I wish I could have experienced it before I learned what it was. But basically, he gave people a yes or no survey about the traits they believed Jesus to have. Then he turned around and gave them the same exact survey with which to evaluate themselves. By and large they all rated themselves and Jesus as sharing similar qualities.
His point was that everyone makes Jesus into their own image. In some ways I agree. In some ways I disagree.
I remember the countless hours of crying and praying and wishing God would just show up when I needed someone, anyone - and no one was there. God didn't hold me together. God didn't show up. The emptiness ached and the cries echoed in dark hallways. I was alone. The thing that kept me going was the misery of trying to be the perfect servant, all while I was being destroyed. And somehow in it all, I felt judgement. I felt the difference between me and Jesus.
In my estimation, Jesus would have faith. He would embody hope to everyone hopeless around him, even in his own squalor. He would praise through the storm (thanks, Casting Crowns). He would go into solitude. He would fast for 40 days. He would calm storms. He would tell mountains to leap. He would commune with God. And yet, there was I. Yes, bleeding still I praised. I killed myself trying to be everything to everyone that no one was to me.
When I was falling apart, where was I? Trying to counsel teenagers older than me not to kill themselves. Trying to tell those who self-injured that they were not alone. That they could be understood and loved. Trying to alleviate the fears of those 10 years older than me that life had a purpose. Trying to be Jesus to the world.
In those times, do I think I would rate Jesus and I as similar beings? Yes. Insofar as I wasn't selfish. In fact, I didn't care for myself much. All I wanted to do was to please the Lord, and nothing felt like enough. I only wanted to be enough. I remember the times that the very people I tried to help turned on me and manipulated me, calling me words I had never used before to describe anybody. I turned the other cheek. I took it. And I lifted them up.
A common theme in my life.
Yet was I like Jesus? No. 'Cause he was better. Were we similar? Yes, I gave up whatever semblance of life I had to try to please God. So, yeah. I can see a similarity.
However... I'm starting to realize that a lot of the similarities are ones we've been indoctrinated to think we have.
I always thought I was a servant. I often offered to help people. I did acts of service. All that. As a teen, every career test I took showed me that my strengths were empathy and compassion and love. Mostly they all told me that I should be a social worker.
I worked in non-profit social services for a while. Volunteered two places and worked at one. They drained me of my life-blood. I had nothing left to give. I pretended to have an overactive bladder just so I could go into the bathroom and cry for five minutes before putting on a good face and returning to work. You know, what with my servant's heart and all.
It was baffling to me. I was so confused. THIS is who I AM, I thought. Why isn't it working?
Well... I answered every career test question and personality test question from a Christian standpoint. I didn't realize it, but I answered every answer with who I thought I was. Who I was told I was called to be in the Kingdom. A servant. One with compassion. One that valued others above anything else. One that would sacrifice all for the betterment of others.
Ummm, obviously every test said I should be a social worker.
I was amazed when I realized later that I began answering questions differently. It began with art. Then learning. The two blossomed in my identity into this thing composed on intellect, beauty, and an overall unquenchable thirst for knowledge and beauty. Things I would never allow myself to truly love before. Because, well... They are self-focused. Selfish, actually, is what I always thought.
Academia seemed a selfish endeavor. Art was all about narcissism and being self-consumed. My heart was meant for others. For love. For exhortation. For administration.
That's what I thought.
That was a long, weird introduction. I obviously didn't plan this first entry. But basically my point is this... Does my journey warrant a blog? No. Easily most blogs out there aren't warranted at all. And I count this among those. But this journey is significant to me.
My hope is that others going through this journey will stumble upon it and know they are not alone. Or, in lieu of that, my hope is that no one will find it and it will be a safe haven for me. Certainly my hope is not to stir up concern, fear, controversy, or disagreement with friends or family who might happen upon this. If you are a friend or family and are concerned, please refrain from reacting immediately. More blogs will likely follow. Please refrain from commenting on this vulnerable journey until you have read enough to feel that you "get it". Then wait longer. Then maybe we can talk about it.
_____________
So about that theologist's Jesus test. Correlation does not prove causation. His theory is that people are self-involved and self-exalting, and that we make Jesus look like ourselves so that we don't have the inconvenience of reaching too far to have to be like him. Basically it's a way to call out Christians for making lives too easy for themselves rather than being Christ-like. They make Christ them-like.
My theory, on the other hand, is that it's just as likely that people think that Jesus-like is who they are. They connect with different parts of Jesus in different areas of their life and they latch on to those qualities, trying to foster them. They may or may not be like Jesus, but I think a lot of them answer the way they do because they really think that Jesus is how they rated him and they are hoping to God that they are who they think they are, as one who values what He values.
How can you rag on a bunch of indoctrinated kids for hoping and thinking they have the qualities they have always been told to have, and always been told that they have? Their churches have told them what to believe about Jesus. They rate themselves similarly because that is all they have aspired to be. They aren't trying to make Jesus in their image. They are keeping Jesus in whatever image was passed down to them through social/intellectual experiences, and they are trying desperately to be like him.
Probably the truth is somewhat between my theory and this one. But we can't know the cause. And we can't pretend to without knowing the students who took these surveys' stories. And if confronted with that thought, most of them will agree with the theologist. Because they are used to feeling ashamed, they are used to feeling guilt. They are used to wanting to be more. Tell them they are wrong and that they are not enough. They will seek the brokenness. They will cry in prayer and through themselves into the word, hoping God will meet them there. And regardless, they will try to reform themselves into whatever image their church/parents has told them Jesus is. Or they will break from the pressure.
Anyway. That said. You can know my story. Parts of it will be here. For better or for worse. This is my journey. And you haven't seen nothin' yet.
Though - shorter blogs in the future. Deal? Deal.
Why, exactly, does this warrant a blog? It doesn't. Not by its own right. This blog was meant to be for my own space. I just realized it connects to my main blog - most of which contains heavily Christian posts. I wasn't intending on "going public".
I actually left this post mid-draft to try and delete this blog. I don't know how. I will just have to hope that my "followers" on my previous blog don't find this one (and that they aren't notified by Blogger that it exists), or I will just have to own up to this, far more publicly attached to my identity than I ever wanted it to be.
I'm in a weird spot. An unfamiliar spot. I don't know when it happened exactly, but I think the process has been happening for a while. The process of deconversion. I still sneer at the word because it sounds threatening and gross to me. I also hate the word because it makes me feel like a piece of technology going through a phase (one that many non-religious people might refer to as an "upgrade"). It sounds so standard and clinical. It sounds like a process rather than an identity.
The scariest thing is the thought that I don't know my identity without my faith. Everything looks a little dimmer, because I've grown to believe that you can't have an identity or know your identity (even if you could have one) without God - specifically the Christian God.
What's scary to me is that the whole time I gave my life to my faith and to my God, I lost myself. We used to sing "Empty Me" because we thought we were broken and needed fixing. And now I don't sing. I fear that I was emptied. I fear that I never allowed myself to know me. I recognize the fundamental guilt I feel for not fitting the model.
A particular theologist (whom I actually really admire) did an interesting thing in a book he wrote. I wish I could have experienced it before I learned what it was. But basically, he gave people a yes or no survey about the traits they believed Jesus to have. Then he turned around and gave them the same exact survey with which to evaluate themselves. By and large they all rated themselves and Jesus as sharing similar qualities.
His point was that everyone makes Jesus into their own image. In some ways I agree. In some ways I disagree.
I remember the countless hours of crying and praying and wishing God would just show up when I needed someone, anyone - and no one was there. God didn't hold me together. God didn't show up. The emptiness ached and the cries echoed in dark hallways. I was alone. The thing that kept me going was the misery of trying to be the perfect servant, all while I was being destroyed. And somehow in it all, I felt judgement. I felt the difference between me and Jesus.
In my estimation, Jesus would have faith. He would embody hope to everyone hopeless around him, even in his own squalor. He would praise through the storm (thanks, Casting Crowns). He would go into solitude. He would fast for 40 days. He would calm storms. He would tell mountains to leap. He would commune with God. And yet, there was I. Yes, bleeding still I praised. I killed myself trying to be everything to everyone that no one was to me.
When I was falling apart, where was I? Trying to counsel teenagers older than me not to kill themselves. Trying to tell those who self-injured that they were not alone. That they could be understood and loved. Trying to alleviate the fears of those 10 years older than me that life had a purpose. Trying to be Jesus to the world.
In those times, do I think I would rate Jesus and I as similar beings? Yes. Insofar as I wasn't selfish. In fact, I didn't care for myself much. All I wanted to do was to please the Lord, and nothing felt like enough. I only wanted to be enough. I remember the times that the very people I tried to help turned on me and manipulated me, calling me words I had never used before to describe anybody. I turned the other cheek. I took it. And I lifted them up.
A common theme in my life.
Yet was I like Jesus? No. 'Cause he was better. Were we similar? Yes, I gave up whatever semblance of life I had to try to please God. So, yeah. I can see a similarity.
However... I'm starting to realize that a lot of the similarities are ones we've been indoctrinated to think we have.
I always thought I was a servant. I often offered to help people. I did acts of service. All that. As a teen, every career test I took showed me that my strengths were empathy and compassion and love. Mostly they all told me that I should be a social worker.
I worked in non-profit social services for a while. Volunteered two places and worked at one. They drained me of my life-blood. I had nothing left to give. I pretended to have an overactive bladder just so I could go into the bathroom and cry for five minutes before putting on a good face and returning to work. You know, what with my servant's heart and all.
It was baffling to me. I was so confused. THIS is who I AM, I thought. Why isn't it working?
Well... I answered every career test question and personality test question from a Christian standpoint. I didn't realize it, but I answered every answer with who I thought I was. Who I was told I was called to be in the Kingdom. A servant. One with compassion. One that valued others above anything else. One that would sacrifice all for the betterment of others.
Ummm, obviously every test said I should be a social worker.
I was amazed when I realized later that I began answering questions differently. It began with art. Then learning. The two blossomed in my identity into this thing composed on intellect, beauty, and an overall unquenchable thirst for knowledge and beauty. Things I would never allow myself to truly love before. Because, well... They are self-focused. Selfish, actually, is what I always thought.
Academia seemed a selfish endeavor. Art was all about narcissism and being self-consumed. My heart was meant for others. For love. For exhortation. For administration.
That's what I thought.
That was a long, weird introduction. I obviously didn't plan this first entry. But basically my point is this... Does my journey warrant a blog? No. Easily most blogs out there aren't warranted at all. And I count this among those. But this journey is significant to me.
My hope is that others going through this journey will stumble upon it and know they are not alone. Or, in lieu of that, my hope is that no one will find it and it will be a safe haven for me. Certainly my hope is not to stir up concern, fear, controversy, or disagreement with friends or family who might happen upon this. If you are a friend or family and are concerned, please refrain from reacting immediately. More blogs will likely follow. Please refrain from commenting on this vulnerable journey until you have read enough to feel that you "get it". Then wait longer. Then maybe we can talk about it.
_____________
So about that theologist's Jesus test. Correlation does not prove causation. His theory is that people are self-involved and self-exalting, and that we make Jesus look like ourselves so that we don't have the inconvenience of reaching too far to have to be like him. Basically it's a way to call out Christians for making lives too easy for themselves rather than being Christ-like. They make Christ them-like.
My theory, on the other hand, is that it's just as likely that people think that Jesus-like is who they are. They connect with different parts of Jesus in different areas of their life and they latch on to those qualities, trying to foster them. They may or may not be like Jesus, but I think a lot of them answer the way they do because they really think that Jesus is how they rated him and they are hoping to God that they are who they think they are, as one who values what He values.
How can you rag on a bunch of indoctrinated kids for hoping and thinking they have the qualities they have always been told to have, and always been told that they have? Their churches have told them what to believe about Jesus. They rate themselves similarly because that is all they have aspired to be. They aren't trying to make Jesus in their image. They are keeping Jesus in whatever image was passed down to them through social/intellectual experiences, and they are trying desperately to be like him.
Probably the truth is somewhat between my theory and this one. But we can't know the cause. And we can't pretend to without knowing the students who took these surveys' stories. And if confronted with that thought, most of them will agree with the theologist. Because they are used to feeling ashamed, they are used to feeling guilt. They are used to wanting to be more. Tell them they are wrong and that they are not enough. They will seek the brokenness. They will cry in prayer and through themselves into the word, hoping God will meet them there. And regardless, they will try to reform themselves into whatever image their church/parents has told them Jesus is. Or they will break from the pressure.
Anyway. That said. You can know my story. Parts of it will be here. For better or for worse. This is my journey. And you haven't seen nothin' yet.
Though - shorter blogs in the future. Deal? Deal.
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