We don’t need your infatuation
Preachers, leave the kids alone!
You and I, we’re done.
I’m tired of persecution complexes and patronizing smiles. I’m tired of the meaningless that comes with “I love you”. I”m tired of creative ways of walking around the truth, of people who know 10,000 different ways to wield scripture to say the equivalent of “Fuck you” to others. I’m tired of the worship of a you that looks exactly like these people. I want to believe in a better god. But you’re all that’s in my head, and I can’t live with you. So I’m done with it all.
One guy had the strange idea to apologize on your behalf and sent this response
As a Christian, I apologize. For the pain you experienced. The abuse you survived. The cover ups you endured. And most of all, I apologize that no one said anything. Because, as a Christian, it is our DUTY. I am angry that your family parades as Christians. It sounds more, to me (though I’m not the ultimate judge), that they use Christ to justify selfish ambition. They do not have the heart of Christ.
I grew up in a silent church. A finger pointing church. And I know there were moments they SAW what was happening, the decay that filled the children’s hearts. And no one stood up. No one asked questions. Everyone looked away and stuck to the code of silence. One year ago I made a vow. I will NEVER be a part of that silence. Never again, as far as my arms can reach, will I allow such atrocities. I will stand up for those whose emotional legs have been broken. I will be a part of healing, to the best of my abilities. Though I may fail and fall short, I will do my darndest to advocate for those who cannot speak, will love those who have been cast aside, and will not allow silence to shipwreck anyone else. Because my generation were children of silence. My brother is a child of silence. And his sobbing drunk dials break my heart in ways that’ll never mend. And I will never allow that to happen to anyone else if I can help it.
You may wonder what the heck was THAT?
How does this fit with the serious stuff from above?
Well, this could shed some light:
When I reach down, I don’t get Jewish chants. I don’t get the Mendelssohn Concerto for Violin, either. And I don’t get Janis Joplin (she’s too close to the surface). What I get, Gospel hymnody, is hardly the stuff of great music. But it’s the music my mother played on the piano when I was in utero.
or maybe this
When I reach down into my subconscious, I find a great deal of stuff my grown-up self would rather not find. Among the Bible readings from which one may choose for the Burial Rite of the Book of Common Prayer of the Episcopal church is one from St. Paul’s epistle to the Romans. It says we are children of God, but we suffer in order to be glorified. I’m basically over the need to suffer that’s down there in my subconscious. I’m not sure about the future glory, so I don’t think I want the suffering.
The kicker to all of this is the ending, lofty prose worthy of Shakespeare.
For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:38-39, NRSV).
When I reach down into my subconscious, those words are there. I have no idea how many times I’ve heard my father read them. More than many. You can’t listen to your father read words like those over and over from the time you are born and not find them when you reach down into your subconscious.
Read the disclaimer now if you didn’t get it in the first place:
This is one of those days when I would have to argue brilliantly to prove to my atheist friends this is not about religion. Get over it. This is about me, not about religion.
If still confused (yeah, I know, listening to lofty speeches by guys in robes can do this to your mind) read on
And get a life before losing it to betting (on) teachers