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.

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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.