more than a policy

I was reading Looking for Alaska (which I completely recommend by the way) when I ran across this quote:

‘I am going to take this bucket of water and pour it on the flames of hell, and then I am going to use this torch to burn down the gates of paradise so that people will not love God for want of heaven or fear of hell, but because He is God.’

I loved this because this year I've been thinking a lot about what drives me to believe in God and to be a Christian. Is it just because that is the way I was raised? Because I truly believe in the God of the Bible? Or is it really because I fear eternal damnation? 

I remember the first time I thought about heaven and hell. My grandfather had died and my grandmother, Catholic through and through, had told me I needed to pray for him every night to help him get out of purgatory. I had no idea at the time what that meant but I did what she asked because I loved my grandfather. However, that is when the fear started. It told me there was clearly something bad that could happen to you when you died and I took to begging God not to let anything happen to me, not to let me go to hell. 

I would be lying if avoidance of hell and wanting to feel secure in my belief that heaven was what waited on the other death wasn't my main motivation the day I "got saved." Even now, in the middle of the night when my brain is sifting through all the thoughts jumbled in my head, I imagine something happening- a vein bursting in my brain, my heart stuttering to a stop, that last frightened breath and.... what? What is next? And I find myself praying, God, have mercy on my soul.

But I don't want my motive for loving God to center around a "life insurance policy." I don't want my life to be centered around avoiding punishment. In Love Wins Rob Bell talks about living our lives here and now to create heaven here on earth. Love now. Change the world here to be the best it can be. Don't just count on the flames of hell and the gates of heaven. I want to love God because I believe he loves us. Unchecked love. Real love. Love that can make you angry because it doesn't make sense. Love for us all. Love because he is love. 

You Can't Take That Away from Me

This weekend I was sitting at my Christmas party discussing God with my Jewish friend, M. Both she and my atheist friend, J, have honestly been the two people who have made me feel like I can still be a Christian in light of my adjusted beliefs. This weekend, as M and I were talking about the religious aspects of our respective December holidays I found myself confessing to her how I had felt this year that if I told people some of the things I'd been thinking- that LGBT people are exactly who they should be, that maybe there are more paths to God than we'd suspected- I wouldn't be allowed to be a Christian anymore. That my religion, my beliefs would be taken away from me. "I want to believe in God," I told M and she said that no one could take God from me.

What I told her is the truth. In spite of all the confusion, upheaval, frustration with the church, etc. I want and I do believe in God. I believe that "God is love and He loves everyone." I believe that my highest duty in life is to love God with my heart, mind and strength and to love my neighbor as myself. I believe God is here with me and I believe that the miracles around me are the work of his hands.

I also believe that we are capable of really screwing things up. And that the world is broken and evil. And that there are questions I can't answer. That the hatred of the world can deeply wound people. That there are many people dying and suffering and I can't say why that should happen to them. I don't blame people who reject the idea of God, I understand why they feel that way. But I can't. I don't want to. I want to believe there's something after this life. I want to believe in the Summer Lands and the world CS Lewis describes in The Last Battle where justice is served and it gets bigger and better and more glorious the further you go in. Where love reigns.

So that's where I stand this Christmas season. I quietly sang Christmas hymns all the way home from work last week in thankfulness when the shooting at Virginia Tech didn't turn into another terrible massacre. I lit the candle that illuminates our holy family nativity and smiled. I prayed for peace and comfort for a family that lost their teenage daughter this weekend. I hoped that I could reclaim and hold onto a God and Savior that has meant so much to me.

I basked in the glow of friendships that have blessed and comforted me this year.

World Weary

is a phrase my friend Andrea and I used to describe days we felt life was out of our control and oppressively hopeless. I have had a world weary week - which is in direct contrast to the joyous hopefulness of my counterpart. I love you for having joyful hopefulness - it means I'll be up again too.
The downside to all this "wrestling with one's salvation" is it gets messy. You see everything in grey and sometimes it's the same shade of grey. There isn't even the benefit of dark gloomy grays versus cheery warm light greys with hints of blue, green, or yellow. It's days like this that make me feel like I'm losing, I'm lost, I have lost. And I'm not even talking about my faith - I'm talking about the effects we have on each other - the every day decisions that we all make that either fuck someone else over or bring happiness. Even my examples tend to the black and white, which apparently I want more of today.
Ben and I had a Huge Discussion this morning in a brand new diner (new to us) by our house, and over french toast and omelettes we...or moreso, I, talked about how overwhelmed I felt with every decision that had to be made, and how, in the course of making this most recent decision, I remembered alllll the other past decisions wherein I had to suck it to get through life. I had to take the proverbial slaps to my face to just be able to move on and live because people suck. People are Awful. I want in my little cave with my comfort people and that's it.
As most of our conversations go, we morphed into how our faith comes in to play - I was raised to not question tradition, or the people in charge - Unless of course, those people in charge disagreed with my father, when, well, naturally, we'd be able to disagree with them. Of course! I was raised to be the biblical sheep - needing protection, needing a shepherd. Ben was raised to be the shepherd - he was taught to be the leader, the protector, the one who questioned and critiqued. Those two differences were never so more apparent than today, because part of my growth as an adult has been to Trust in my decisions - even if they are against the group and I am made unpopular by them. (SO HARD) I've also had to learn when the fight is worth fighting and when it isn't, and Folks, It's easier to NOT fight. It's easier to take the slap, and deal with the post-traumatic stress syndrome later. You know what's hard? Knowing you have to fight, and finding that resolve to carry through and know you're doing what's right.
Because doing what's right and being thoughtful and determined about Life means constantly being on edge and aware and thinking. This is why people want to be led - they don't want to bear the responsibility of being aware. I can't Not be aware anymore, but some days I just want a little assurance. Some days I just want to win. I just want my voice to be acknowledged.
Which is the absolute last thing that will happen, because it isn't a win or lose scenario. It's a work it out and pursue what you know is right scenario. It's something my therapist told me I need to work on, and it's SO TRUE. Life isn't winning or losing, I just haven't figured out what it is. I am still so emotionally stunted in this one (hopefully just one) GLARING inconsistency that it affects everything.
To sum up:
I am learning how to lead....myself.
I get so upset because I still think it's a win/lose/black/white world. It's not.
I have to figure out WHAT that means and how to own it. I can't even formalize in words how to define that.

Something that made me smile

I've spent a lot of time on this blog thus far working through angst, doubts and questions I have about the church. I can be pretty critical of Christians and Christianity on the whole though I really try not to get so cynical. That's why I wanted to share this photo that I found here. I wish I could give the photographer credit but there weren't any photo credits listed for this picture. It was simply captioned "Christians protect Muslims during prayer in Cairo, Egypt." That makes me so happy. That is what I think Jesus would want us to do. 

Damned if I do and damned if I don't - Shake it out Pt 1

The moment I heard the new single from Florence + the Machine I knew I'd found my new mantra. "Shake it Out" says everything I've been feeling for the past year and everything I want for my future- to shake the demons who want their pound of flesh off my back and dance.

I think I'm at the point of the bridge of the song right now:

I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't
so here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my rope
and I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope

If you read my previous post than it's not really a secret that I've felt tortured by my new beliefs but I don't see how I can ever just ignore everything I've learned and seen. Ignore all the thoughts and doubts that have run through my head and go back to my old life. At this point I feel damned either way. Either I live feeling damned because I'm too afraid to believe in any other afterlife than the one I've always imagined or I follow my heart. That will still mean suffering because friends and family won't understand and maybe it will mean damnation- but right now I'm choosing to trust my hope that God is bigger. That his love is bigger. That salvation is complex. That grace is overwhelming and "... all the wickedness in the world which man may do or think is no more to the mercy of God than a live coal dropped in the sea."

My Confession

I mentioned in the first post on this blog how scared I am of essentially "coming out" to my conservative religious friends and family. Right now the thought of it literally ties my stomach in knots. I want to be brave, I want to just say what I think, whether or not I know that I'm right 100%. I don't really want to fight or debate or try to change anyone's mind, I just want to feel like I can be honest with the people I call my friends. But, I don't feel that way. And I know I'm a coward. But there are so many variables...

It's beyond the word difficult for me to just let go of so much that I've believed for so many years. As I've become less arrogant (I hope) and gotten older, I question myself more than I ever have before. Lately, I've argued, debated and agonized over the question, "Is being gay a sin?" and this debate has shaken me to my core.

My heart says, no, it can't be. There's no way. My head even agrees with my heart. I'd even come to a place of confidence to the point that I sent letters to every congressman, senator, whomever I could telling them that, as a NY state citizen and a Christian I firmly believed that gay marriage should be legal. I even told people I thought it should be legal. And finally, I took the first step and told someone I didn't believe being gay was a sin. Our ensuing conversation was lengthy and nuanced but the part that haunted me and tore at my heart was when she said that I was holding my gay friend's hands on their way to hell by not telling them to repent. Ouch. It's been weeks since this conversation and I am haunted by those words and the tiny voice whispering- what if she's right? What if that is what I'm doing?

I wish the voices would just shut up.

I can't stand it anymore.

Is this what God wants? Agony and misery and shame and hiding and questioning and never feeling safe? If God is good... if he is loving... why would he condemn someone who is just looking for someone to love? For companionship and a home? For everything that I have been lucky enough to find in my husband. Why  shouldn't my friends deserve that?

Here's the thing. Even if you're TOTALLY and completely wrong, and it's an outright sin to be gay, what damage have you done? If being gay is a sin, or even acting upon feelings you have toward a member of the same sex is a sin, are those people that you have continued to love and accept going to go to hell, because you didn't show them the path to redemption by opening their eyes to their sinful relationship?

No. Because the only way to get to heaven is through faith in Christ. Not straight faith, just faith.

If our (Christianity as a whole) stand against gays, or against BEING gay, or ACTING gay, or even thinking gay, will that stand not drive others away from Christianity?...I don't want to be wishy washy about my faith, or what God requires of us. But I know he doesn't want us to hate. He wants us to love. I figure if we can bring people to Him through love, He will speak to their hearts for the rest.

Rebecca, who wrote that comment, I wish I knew you. I really do. I want to talk with you and ask you if these words are true and you are at peace or if your fear ever eats you alive like mine does. Do you have past teachings in your heart, like I do, that appear suddenly and cover your hands with the blood of the lost?

This is my true struggle- I don't want to fail my friends. I don't want to die and face God and have him show me all the people who I was meant to save but didn't because I was too scared or misled. That is my greatest fear, my ultimate fear.

I grew up being taught that I had the absolute truth in my hands. I spent a lot of my teen years learning from a ministry I was involved in that the souls of the lost are in my hands- that the blood of the lost is on my head if I don't do everything in my power to "save" them. I spent all four years of college as a "leader" in a Christan campus ministry, steeped in responsibility for the people around me, desperately trying to grow the church. These are not light beliefs that I've held and can slough off. They are burned inside of me and I want, I need to know that I am not failing the people around me by following my heart, changing my beliefs, challenging theirs. I don't want to be a deceiver or lead people astray. I don't want to hold anyone's hand on the way to hell.

Where God is found

Ben and I had the chance to visit our friend Beth yesterday, who just happens to be the mother of two of our good friends, and a highly respected spiritualist, at least to Ben and I. She came swooping into our lives shortly after I had major adult breakthroughs and was in desperate need of a mother figure who validated my newfound stances in life. She's always such an affirming speaker, and one of those rare breed who has the ability to interpret exactly what you are trying to say. She, too, has had struggles with what church means, what Christianity is, how to express it in her daily life, and yet with the benefit of more years than me, so she's much more at peace and much more able to express her thoughts.

I have struggled with church. Ben and I have tried (before we met, separately attempted) to find a church that expresses who we are. I hear my father's response to that statement - "You don't go to church to find you, you go to church to find God". Yes, dad, I hear you. What I have tried to mean with that sentiment is, I want to find a place that has worked as hard as I am to be healthy, honest and open with the world and with God. I have yet to find one here where I live. Whenever I have attended church within the past few years, I feel a sense of loss, or boredom, or at the least, disconnection. One visceral last impression was a church Ben and I attended where 5 minutes in, I emotionally and physically shut down. I had an overwhelming urge to cry and was afraid if I moved, or said anything, I'd burst out into my very uncomfortable ugly cry - the gasping for air, sobbing/moaning mess that I only do when alone - NEVER - in public. It was the one and only time I have driven Ben away, literally, with my inability to communicate or process my feelings.

Church used to mean a place of peace, where I sat with friends who were comrades in life - we knew each other and loved each other with a desperation to always prove how much we loved and supported each other. I don't have that here - in church at least. I have it outside of church, through conversations with friends who may or may not be Christian - through emails and phone calls and blogs. I have it with Ben, my life friend, who understands and says so succinctly what takes me 20 minutes to spew out.

I have always felt this is enough. I felt if I ever do feel the need to return to church, I'd do it, and would find a place that was home. The only reason I still hear those voices in my head is because my parents feel I can't possibly be a believer while not attending church. I'm missing that check in the laundry list of being approved as a Christian and one worthy of attention.

While expressing all of this to Beth, she politely listened and then replied, "If you think the church is going to be a healthy place, you're mistaken - church isn't for the healthy people, church is for the sick. You won't find God in church." The light clicked on immediately and to my shock, I felt so relieved. RELIEVED to hear someone finally say it. God isn't in church - I find him in posters explaining disorders of the macula (a part of the eye) in Ben's ophthalmologist's office. I find him in conversations with friends when they echo what I feel, and I don't feel alone or misunderstood anymore. I find him in therapy sessions where the therapist tells me, "If there's anything I want you to gain from these sessions, is to trust yourself and your instincts and your decisions". I find him when I'm living on being the best me I can be, because he made me to be me. I make God proud when I am me and am honest.

Right now, I don't need church to show me God - he's doing a better job than any one place can do. I'm listening to him and that's all I need.