By Adam ~
As I sit here writing these very words, I’m listening to what many Christian would consider being New Age music, drinking a wonderful and refreshing alcoholic beverage, and talking with friends on Facebook about burning incense for calming and meditative purposes.
Image via WikipediaWhat a journey I have been through, to end where I am now.
I remember praying earnestly and sincerely to god that I wouldn’t lose my faith. That my faith would continue to grow by leaps and bounds, that my entire life would be in devotion and loving sacrifice to him.
I remember soaking up the bible and then similarly forcing it down other’s throats. I remember speaking in a crazy mumbo-jumbo and calling it the purest form of prayer – tongues. I remember being convinced by my old church, believing whole heartedly, that Dinosaur bones were planted by Satan to draw people from the truth of Christianity.
I remember hearing at the pulpit what to wear, what to do, what to listen to, what to say, how to pray, how to worship, and how to go about my life in a service of devotion to god; but, at the same time, being told I could never measure up to this god that I was devoting my entire life to.
I remember being told how within me there was nothing good. That I was deemed for an eternity in hell unless I gave my life to Jesus. That at the very core I was sinful, but god died for me anyway. That I could never measure up to the standards of god, but should try anyway.
Most of all, I remember two times I needed my god most, the two times I whole-heartedly stepped out in faith and utter believe, were indeed the two most atrocious times in my life to date.
I remember being on the floor of my dorm room: crying, shaking, and calling out for help while hugging my worn bible like a comforting teddy bear.
I remember the silence.
There was nothing from god. When I needed him most, there was utter silence.
This is when something broke inside of me. It was my faith being broken, the beliefs that I held for years that suddenly came crashing down, like the crack of a whip.
I remember the silence.
The silence: of those people who wanted nothing more to do with me, once I had nothing to offer. The silence: of those people whom I had once loved, and entrusted my entire life with. The people worshipping, praying, and serving a church that turned away when I needed encouragement and love the most.
A church that told me this was exactly where god wanted me.
If god wanted me: broken, suffering, with no confidence, depressed, full of anxiety, fearful, lost in the world, and suicidal – he received it.
I made the conscious decision to step away from the lies and the road to death. I stepped into the light.
My purpose now?
Truth, happiness, joy, love, peace, courage, honor, fun, respect, tolerance, respect, and to live life to the fullest.
So god…thanks for the silence.
As I sit here writing these very words, I’m listening to what many Christian would consider being New Age music, drinking a wonderful and refreshing alcoholic beverage, and talking with friends on Facebook about burning incense for calming and meditative purposes.
Image via WikipediaI remember praying earnestly and sincerely to god that I wouldn’t lose my faith. That my faith would continue to grow by leaps and bounds, that my entire life would be in devotion and loving sacrifice to him.
I remember soaking up the bible and then similarly forcing it down other’s throats. I remember speaking in a crazy mumbo-jumbo and calling it the purest form of prayer – tongues. I remember being convinced by my old church, believing whole heartedly, that Dinosaur bones were planted by Satan to draw people from the truth of Christianity.
I remember hearing at the pulpit what to wear, what to do, what to listen to, what to say, how to pray, how to worship, and how to go about my life in a service of devotion to god; but, at the same time, being told I could never measure up to this god that I was devoting my entire life to.
I remember being told how within me there was nothing good. That I was deemed for an eternity in hell unless I gave my life to Jesus. That at the very core I was sinful, but god died for me anyway. That I could never measure up to the standards of god, but should try anyway.
Most of all, I remember two times I needed my god most, the two times I whole-heartedly stepped out in faith and utter believe, were indeed the two most atrocious times in my life to date.
I remember being on the floor of my dorm room: crying, shaking, and calling out for help while hugging my worn bible like a comforting teddy bear.
I remember the silence.
There was nothing from god. When I needed him most, there was utter silence.
This is when something broke inside of me. It was my faith being broken, the beliefs that I held for years that suddenly came crashing down, like the crack of a whip.
I remember the silence.
The silence: of those people who wanted nothing more to do with me, once I had nothing to offer. The silence: of those people whom I had once loved, and entrusted my entire life with. The people worshipping, praying, and serving a church that turned away when I needed encouragement and love the most.
A church that told me this was exactly where god wanted me.
If god wanted me: broken, suffering, with no confidence, depressed, full of anxiety, fearful, lost in the world, and suicidal – he received it.
I made the conscious decision to step away from the lies and the road to death. I stepped into the light.
My purpose now?
Truth, happiness, joy, love, peace, courage, honor, fun, respect, tolerance, respect, and to live life to the fullest.
So god…thanks for the silence.
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