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bleedingangel84A/N: Yet again, I have no idea why I wrote this long-ass thing or where it came from. Herein I discuss my perceptions of Christianity and God and religion.These are only my opinions and I recognize they will not apply to everyone. I am not what I or anyone else would consider a religious person, so far as I know, but there was a time in my life when I was that, and quite narrow-minded as a result. If i may say so, it was never my intent to hurt/exclude anyone. I don't intend to do so now either. No offense is meant to any religion or person with this post. This is apparently something that just needed drawing out of my system. If you are easily offended or do not wish to read this entry because it discusses religion, feel free to skip it. Have a nice day/afternoon/evening/night or whichever applies to your timezone at the moment. Thank you.
I sometimes wish that life came with a manual. I've always done my best to be the best kind of person I can be, whatever I conceived that to be at any given point in my life. I grew up believing in God, being taught to pray and have faith. The ironic thing is that I never questioned the existence of God until I was about 10, which was when I truly began to understand the concept of "salvation" as the church taught it. My family had always taught that God loves no matter what.
That's why the concept of "salvation" still confuses me. I mean, having a personal relationship with the divine is all well and good. Nothing wrong with that if you believe in it. But, to me, the concept of being "saved" comes from a place that is...wrong. Or shall I say, not conducive to producing what it is they want you to achieve, which is a personal relationship with "God", if I understand it correctly. My problem with this is that so much of religion as I conceive it is based on guilt. People are made to feel dirty and guilty and unclean. That they need to be cleansed of "sin" to be be acceptable to the higher power of this Christian religion.
At the same time, they also learn that we as human beings are not perfect and fall short of divinity. We are taught that we have to take on our fair share of responsibility for Jesus' death on the cross. That he died for us. We are made to carry that on our consciences all of our days. Taught that it's right to do so. Taught to fear Hell if we don't accept this as truth. Let me tell you, that's an incredible burden of guilt and responsibility to put on a kid, no matter their age. It hurts. I cried and still cry a lot of guilty tears because I feel dirty and evil and unclean.
I always wondered why I hardly ever felt connected to God when I was "supposed" to, like in church. I tend to believe it's because church always makes me feel a pall of guilt and misery. It's very hard to feel connected with a higher power with so much guilt being heaped on you week after week. I always felt more connected with my concept of the divine when I was outside under trees or listening to a song that made me feel good.
Church was a place of conflicting messages about what "God" was supposed to be. One week they'd talk about his vengeance on wicked people, and the next it was about how loving God could be.In some ways, it was like God was a fairy tale, or some distant voice I could never hope to make hear me. He wasn't loving and close as he had felt when I was young, but rather, something to be afraid of. It made me sad. I'm thankful that my father never forced me to attend services, but we would often go with my aunt and uncle when we were young. It was a fun, social experience at that point, and it didn't touch me in any way, either good or bad, as far as my daily life was concerned.
When I was 13, all of that started to change. I had transferred from my rural public junior high school where I was having trouble to a smaller private school run by a Holiness church. Several of my year-mates from public school had gone there and it was working for them. I wanted out of public so badly at that point that it seemed good to me. In all fairness, the first year was pretty stellar. I had tested well academically, other than the subjects of English and Math, which they claimed most students were behind in when they first came. At that point, I was in 8th grade, but I tested on an 11th grade level. They decided to start me on the 8th grade material anyway, since I was behind in two of the core subjects of the curriculum. I did eventually get my footing in those areas and did quite well from an academic standpoint. I will always be grateful to that school for honing my math skills.
Prior to attending there, I had been hopeless at math. Mainly because my brain hates numbers and prefers words. Also, I had had surgery which meant me missing some things in school that I had never managed to learn until that point. The way the academic program was structured, I was able to go back and fill in those gaps, which has made some areas of my life infinitely better. I no longer get so panicked dealing with numbers. I was even able to manage solid B+ grades in my math courses when I transferred back to public school, which aided in my getting a scholarship to a really top college. As far as academics are concerned, all things were fine. I had a nice year, made friends and did well in school
It wasn't until the next year when I returned that the religious aspects of my education began to overshadow the academic side of things. Here, I should probably stop to explain that the Holiness faith can be very strict. In our school, we were taught that women should not wear pants at all, but must wear dresses. We were likewise taught that women must not cut their hair, wear jewelry or put on makeup of any kind. No one, men or women, was allowed to wear shorts or bathing suits.
There were also prohibitions against television, secular music, and in some cases, even short sleeves were forbidden. There was a lot of talk about how we should be in the world, but not of the world. We were required as part of school to attend a chapel service every Wednesday. It wasn't long after all these rules began sinking into my brain that things started to go wrong. I began to be afraid every day that I was going to Hell, and so was my family. We all did things they said were wrong. Every day. Our clothes were wrong, our hair was wrong, we watched television, daddy drank and smoked to excess, and we listened to wrong music. These people seemed to think that God was involved in every aspect of life. They talked a lot about being "convicted" to give up things. For example, one person I was in class with gave up drinking Pepsi because he said God told him it was wrong for him to drink it.
Surrounded by this atmosphere for two years, it's no wonder to me that I started to question and doubt and fear. I feared my very nature as a human being, born in sin and imperfect, I was in constant fear of Hell, sometimes almost to the point that I would feel flames on my neck. I prayed to die while I was "right" with God, because I couldn't stand the thought of eternal flames. I prayed that I would be safe from Hell nearly every minute of every day. I got in trouble at school because they said I was reading the Bible too much, rather than doing school work, My grades were still high, but it wasn't often I could concentrate with the thought of burning in lakes of fire constantly in my head. I had detention nearly every day for not completing homework. My best friend stopped spending time with me because she said that I was worrying too much, and she didn't know how to handle that. In retrospect, I really can't blame her. I didn't even blame her then. I could barely tolerate myself at that point. It was hard work trying to reconcile the concepts of God that I'd come in contact with.
I questioned people at my school.about why they held certain beliefs that ran contrary to what I had learned, but I never got satisfactory answers from them, even when I pointed out passages in the Bible that seemed to contradict the strict rules they adhered to. It was a very confusing time in my life.I even considered chucking everything and becoming an atheist. I think my mind was honestly a bit shattered by that point, anyway. If not for one of my aunt, I seriously doubt I'd have salvaged any concept of a benevolent higher power at all.
It has taken a long time for me to have any kind of peace with my myself, and it's still a work in progress, honestly. Since all of this happened, I do my best not judge people. We never know what someone else may have gone through.
What is right for us may not be right for them, and vice versa. The main thing I try to remember is that everyone needs love, and I do my best to be positive and not condemn people. Whatever their relation to whatever higher power, each person has their own path to walk. And if they don't believe at all, that's okay. I no longer believe in Hell. I don't choose to give a place that may or may not exist that much power over me
Sometimes I'm not even quite sure what I believe about God. I still ask a lot of questions, and I think that's just fine. If he is all-loving and all-knowing, then he knew what I was going to do anyway, and if he is wrathful and judging, then I'm not sure that's the kind of deity I should worship.
Either way, I've always believed that love is important. I just need to extend that to myself as well as others.
I sometimes wish that life came with a manual. I've always done my best to be the best kind of person I can be, whatever I conceived that to be at any given point in my life. I grew up believing in God, being taught to pray and have faith. The ironic thing is that I never questioned the existence of God until I was about 10, which was when I truly began to understand the concept of "salvation" as the church taught it. My family had always taught that God loves no matter what.
That's why the concept of "salvation" still confuses me. I mean, having a personal relationship with the divine is all well and good. Nothing wrong with that if you believe in it. But, to me, the concept of being "saved" comes from a place that is...wrong. Or shall I say, not conducive to producing what it is they want you to achieve, which is a personal relationship with "God", if I understand it correctly. My problem with this is that so much of religion as I conceive it is based on guilt. People are made to feel dirty and guilty and unclean. That they need to be cleansed of "sin" to be be acceptable to the higher power of this Christian religion.
At the same time, they also learn that we as human beings are not perfect and fall short of divinity. We are taught that we have to take on our fair share of responsibility for Jesus' death on the cross. That he died for us. We are made to carry that on our consciences all of our days. Taught that it's right to do so. Taught to fear Hell if we don't accept this as truth. Let me tell you, that's an incredible burden of guilt and responsibility to put on a kid, no matter their age. It hurts. I cried and still cry a lot of guilty tears because I feel dirty and evil and unclean.
I always wondered why I hardly ever felt connected to God when I was "supposed" to, like in church. I tend to believe it's because church always makes me feel a pall of guilt and misery. It's very hard to feel connected with a higher power with so much guilt being heaped on you week after week. I always felt more connected with my concept of the divine when I was outside under trees or listening to a song that made me feel good.
Church was a place of conflicting messages about what "God" was supposed to be. One week they'd talk about his vengeance on wicked people, and the next it was about how loving God could be.In some ways, it was like God was a fairy tale, or some distant voice I could never hope to make hear me. He wasn't loving and close as he had felt when I was young, but rather, something to be afraid of. It made me sad. I'm thankful that my father never forced me to attend services, but we would often go with my aunt and uncle when we were young. It was a fun, social experience at that point, and it didn't touch me in any way, either good or bad, as far as my daily life was concerned.
When I was 13, all of that started to change. I had transferred from my rural public junior high school where I was having trouble to a smaller private school run by a Holiness church. Several of my year-mates from public school had gone there and it was working for them. I wanted out of public so badly at that point that it seemed good to me. In all fairness, the first year was pretty stellar. I had tested well academically, other than the subjects of English and Math, which they claimed most students were behind in when they first came. At that point, I was in 8th grade, but I tested on an 11th grade level. They decided to start me on the 8th grade material anyway, since I was behind in two of the core subjects of the curriculum. I did eventually get my footing in those areas and did quite well from an academic standpoint. I will always be grateful to that school for honing my math skills.
Prior to attending there, I had been hopeless at math. Mainly because my brain hates numbers and prefers words. Also, I had had surgery which meant me missing some things in school that I had never managed to learn until that point. The way the academic program was structured, I was able to go back and fill in those gaps, which has made some areas of my life infinitely better. I no longer get so panicked dealing with numbers. I was even able to manage solid B+ grades in my math courses when I transferred back to public school, which aided in my getting a scholarship to a really top college. As far as academics are concerned, all things were fine. I had a nice year, made friends and did well in school
It wasn't until the next year when I returned that the religious aspects of my education began to overshadow the academic side of things. Here, I should probably stop to explain that the Holiness faith can be very strict. In our school, we were taught that women should not wear pants at all, but must wear dresses. We were likewise taught that women must not cut their hair, wear jewelry or put on makeup of any kind. No one, men or women, was allowed to wear shorts or bathing suits.
There were also prohibitions against television, secular music, and in some cases, even short sleeves were forbidden. There was a lot of talk about how we should be in the world, but not of the world. We were required as part of school to attend a chapel service every Wednesday. It wasn't long after all these rules began sinking into my brain that things started to go wrong. I began to be afraid every day that I was going to Hell, and so was my family. We all did things they said were wrong. Every day. Our clothes were wrong, our hair was wrong, we watched television, daddy drank and smoked to excess, and we listened to wrong music. These people seemed to think that God was involved in every aspect of life. They talked a lot about being "convicted" to give up things. For example, one person I was in class with gave up drinking Pepsi because he said God told him it was wrong for him to drink it.
Surrounded by this atmosphere for two years, it's no wonder to me that I started to question and doubt and fear. I feared my very nature as a human being, born in sin and imperfect, I was in constant fear of Hell, sometimes almost to the point that I would feel flames on my neck. I prayed to die while I was "right" with God, because I couldn't stand the thought of eternal flames. I prayed that I would be safe from Hell nearly every minute of every day. I got in trouble at school because they said I was reading the Bible too much, rather than doing school work, My grades were still high, but it wasn't often I could concentrate with the thought of burning in lakes of fire constantly in my head. I had detention nearly every day for not completing homework. My best friend stopped spending time with me because she said that I was worrying too much, and she didn't know how to handle that. In retrospect, I really can't blame her. I didn't even blame her then. I could barely tolerate myself at that point. It was hard work trying to reconcile the concepts of God that I'd come in contact with.
I questioned people at my school.about why they held certain beliefs that ran contrary to what I had learned, but I never got satisfactory answers from them, even when I pointed out passages in the Bible that seemed to contradict the strict rules they adhered to. It was a very confusing time in my life.I even considered chucking everything and becoming an atheist. I think my mind was honestly a bit shattered by that point, anyway. If not for one of my aunt, I seriously doubt I'd have salvaged any concept of a benevolent higher power at all.
It has taken a long time for me to have any kind of peace with my myself, and it's still a work in progress, honestly. Since all of this happened, I do my best not judge people. We never know what someone else may have gone through.
What is right for us may not be right for them, and vice versa. The main thing I try to remember is that everyone needs love, and I do my best to be positive and not condemn people. Whatever their relation to whatever higher power, each person has their own path to walk. And if they don't believe at all, that's okay. I no longer believe in Hell. I don't choose to give a place that may or may not exist that much power over me
Sometimes I'm not even quite sure what I believe about God. I still ask a lot of questions, and I think that's just fine. If he is all-loving and all-knowing, then he knew what I was going to do anyway, and if he is wrathful and judging, then I'm not sure that's the kind of deity I should worship.
Either way, I've always believed that love is important. I just need to extend that to myself as well as others.
