How can an Omniscient, All Powerful Creator hold his Creation Responsible?

Okay, so this is a little out there and I don’t really think all of my thoughts are as put together as I would like, but I had to get them out…

If I’m going to believe that God is the omniscient and all powerful creator of everything that there is, I’m having trouble understanding how or why he should also hold his creation responsible (damn them to HELL) when they fall short or don’t choose him…when He’s the reason that we have a choice in the first place.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand the concept of free will and I’m a fan of it…

What gets me is this…

Picture this with me: God is twiddling his thumbs one day, bored and looking for something to do. He hears from one of his angels that one of them is going rogue, he thinks he knows better than God and wants to strike off on his own. And so God banishes this angle (Satan) from Heaven. Not long after, God decides to start creating things (you know the story)…it finally comes time for man and God puts them in the very same garden as this Satan character and tells them about a tree (just one tree) that they absolutely cannot touch and should never eat the fruit from.

TIMEOUT à (A) God is the one who put the tree there, and if he truly is omniscient, he already knew that Adam and Eve would eat the fruit…thus brining “sin” into the world. At the very least, God allowed it to happen…and I would venture a little further in suggesting that it was God alone that made it possible. (B) God is the one who allowed this Satan character to roam amongst his humans, his most precious creation. Before it happened, he would have known that Satan would tempt the humans and lead them astray. If God really is all powerful, he could get rid of Satan, but he doesn’t…why?

The Lone Non-Christian at a Bible Study

On a whim, after much persuasion, I decided to go to a “night of fellowship” with a couple friends.

It was just going to be a bunch of Christians hanging out they told me…

They were wrong.

My worst fear was confirmed.

Turns out it was an actual Bible Study.

I didn’t fit.

I squirmed in my seat and avoided eye contact.

I wanted to laugh and scoff and roll my eyes at their conversation.

I wanted to shake them.

I wanted to escape.

I wanted to believe what they believed and feel what they felt.

I wanted life to be that simple, just for a moment.

If you Exist

Wrote this a few years ago, just found it and realized I can still identify with most of this...

To: YOU…if YOU exist…..

Lord…God…Father…

Who are you?

What are you?

Are YOU real????

What is real?

What is true?

Nothing is real

Everything is real

At the same time

Nothing is true

Anything is true

Who decides what is real?

WE DECIDE.

Or do we?

If we don’t decide, then who does?

Free will

Because we have it, does that mean God doesn’t have control?

He gave it to me

Or did he?

Maybe he doesn’t even exist

Maybe we made him up

Maybe WE created HIM

To answer our questions

To give us purpose

To explain this life

To give things meaning and value

Maybe HE is nothing more than a good idea

Nothing more than a wish, a hope, an ideal……

Archeology…this stone with words of a different language

Somebody told me it says Goliath

Ok; so what of it?

It’s just a stone!!!

You can’t tell me that it proves anything.

It doesn’t prove that Goliath existed,

That he was 9 ½ feet tall,

That David slung a rock at him

That he died

That David was real

That David was king

That God made a promise…

And fulfilled it

That Christ is real

That this faith is true

Really???

You cannot make all those claims from that one little stone!!!!

The stone proves NOTHING!

It is just a stone

A stone with writing on it

I don’t even know if I believe you when you say it says Goliath

I don’t even know you

How do you know?

Isn’t Aramaic a dead language?

How do you translate a dead language?

Why should I believe you?

Who says you’re right?

Truth:

What is it?

How do we determine it?

Maybe truth is nothing more than first hand experience.

I believe that this chair will hold me up…because it is holding me up

I believe that my hair is long….because I’ve combed it

I believe that I have feet….because I’ve put shoes on them on walked on them

I believe that I should eat…..because I’ve been hungry

I believe that rain is wet…..because I’ve felt it on my skin

I believe that this computer is real…..because I’m touching it

I believe that somebody is cooking right now…..because I can smell it and see it

My senses decide the truth

My eyes, my ears, my mouth, my hands….even my memories

They are what define truth for me

NOT some guy in Israel

NOT some philosopher or archeologist or theologian

I don’t even know them, have never seen them, can’t touch them

MY senses tell me they don’t exist - their bodies, their words, their truths.

They do not determine truth for me…

Unless I allow them to

And that’s on ME!

That’s my choice.

Do I have a patent on truth?

Because I’m having trouble accepting everybody else’s

I decide what is true!

NOT some textbook

NOT some stone

NOT some scroll

NOT some person

NOT some church

NOT some institution

NOT some school

Are YOU still there?

I’m confused

I’m angry

I’m stuck

I’m frustrated

WHO ARE YOU?????!!!!!

WHY CAN’T I BELIEVE IN YOU????

Nevertheless, I am writing this to YOU

What a CoNtRAdIcTiOn!

I write to YOU, the one I QUESTION…the one I DOUBT

But who else do I write to?

I don’t want to write to anyone else

I want to believe in YOU

I want to trust in YOU

All these years…

I went to church

I talked of you

I prayed to you

I thought of you

And heard of you

I learned about you

And believed in you – had faith in you….

OR DID I???

Honestly, I do not believe that “faith” was my own

It never was

I was renting what I should have owned for myself

I’m mad that it took me this long to realize

But I don’t think it’s too late

I MUST REARRANGE!!!

I will not walk around in somebody else’s faith

In somebody else’s truth

In somebody else’s conviction

In somebody else’s passion

I must make my own foundation

I must demolish THEIRS

I have to start over

EVERYTHING IS FLUID

NOTHING IS ABSOLUTE

But it is OK

If you are real and are who I suspect…or suspected you to be

I have to believe that you are ok with me

Ok with me here

Happy that I am feeling

Happy that I am questioning

Happy that I am doubting

Happy that I am frustrated

Happy that I am searching

Happy that I am thinking

PLEASED

PATIENT

What does somebody else’s faith do for me?

NOTHING!!!

I am reorganizing and rebuilding

And DESPITE my doubt

I still cry out to YOU

Asking that you help me to put things back together

Asking that you pull me out of this rebellion

Asking that you give me passion and conviction

I want to be with you

But I want to get there for real

And be there for real

Believe you completely

I do not want to be double minded

Do not want to be on both sides of the fence

But I guess this is where I need to be right now…

What is Christianity Supposed to Look Like??

I was thinking the other day about what Christianity is and what it looks like. It got me thinking about how Christianity looks in the lives of some of my friends/family/acquaintances. Here are some of the different outlooks people seem to have on Christianity:

-   God is always out to bless me, he’s my own personal genie in a bottle, and being part of the “Christian” club is all about exclusivity; God’s blessings are only for those who belong to the club and the blessings only really go to those who are extra holy and deserving, as a result: I read the Bible and pray every day, witness to everyone who isn’t a believer, and go to church at least 3 times a week.

-   Being a Christian doesn’t really mean that I have to make any changes to my everyday life or do anything different than non-Christians. It’s ok to have premarital sex, get drunk, smoke weed, and go to parties.

-   Because I’m a Christian, I am not allowed to go to the doctor because God alone is my healer. In fact, I will never admit to anyone (not even myself) when I am sick or have a disease, because doing so would be a disgrace to God, it would show him that I don’t trust him or believe him when he tells me I am whole. (I won’t ever openly admit to this, but…I am kooky and extremist in my beliefs.)

-   We as humans are bad, evil, wretched creations. We should restrict ourselves and our desires and we should berate ourselves for any minor infraction. Christianity is about shame and deprivation.

-   Christianity is real and it’s relevant to me. I go to church on Sundays, but I don’t really think about God any other day of the week.

-   I am a Christian and that is why I dress up and go to church on Easter and Christmas.

-   I may be a Christian, but I’m also really good at lying and manipulating other people. I cheat and I’m a hypocrite, but nobody in my church family would ever believe this about me because I’m really good at covering up my tracks and avoiding questions that might lead someone to my true identity.

None of those depictions seem like the right fit for me. How can Christianity look so different in the lives of different people? I’m still trying to figure out what I think Christianity should look like. More importantly though…DO I even get to choose? It doesn’t seem like I should be able to…(seems like it would leave to much room for error)

How do I believe in ONE way, ONE truth, ONE morality, and NOT become legalistic?

Whenever I hear a Christian talk about…

how gay people are going to hell and shouldn’t be able to get married

or how abortion is always wrong in every circumstance

or how REAL Christians don’t drink, smoke, or have sex

or how looking a certain way, or acting a certain way is sinful

I can’t help but be thankful that I’m not one of them anymore. There was a time when I thought those very same thoughts (and really believed them with conviction).

I’m ashamed of that now.

And I’m scared that it’s not going to be possible to make my way back to faith without becoming that same person again – someone stuck in their ways – someone who’s “always right” (or at least thinks she is) and never opens up to another point of view – someone who is judgmental and rigid.

I don’t ever want to be that person again.

I don’t want to be squeaky clean…

Even though I do often find myself wanting so very badly to get back to a place of faith, I’m conflicted because I don’t want it back in quite the same way.

I don’t want polished and fake.  I want dirty and real. I’m still attracted to cuss words, not following the rules, and marijuana.

And I don't want to have to squeeze myself back inside that small box I used to be in, I want room to stretch out, to grow, to change, and to discover.

Does going back to Christianity mean that I can never again utter a swear word under my breath (or scream them out real loud) when I stub my toe, am really angry, or miss a really great chance at scoring a goal during a soccer game?

Does it mean that I can’t smoke weed anymore and I always have to follow the rules?

Does being a Christian mean that I always have to color inside the lines?

Fast Forward to the Present...

Alcohol loses its appeal…

After reading a blog about alcohol on Like a Child’s blog, I was inspired to write my own (pretty much taken straight off of a comment I left on her blog) which reflects my current views on the topic…

As I was growing up in the church I equated drinking (along with sex, drugs, and parties) as being something that only "non-Christians" do, and while going through high school where everyone was doing all of that stuff, I was proudly declaring that, "I was NEVER going to drink alcohol."

That mentality lasted only as long as my faith did. Once that went out the door, I decided I needed to try a lot of things that I had never allowed myself to try (most of which were not good for me).

It really hasn't been that long but I think I'm pretty much over it. I went out for a friend's birthday this past weekend where I decided not to drink. It was a miserable night. Everyone was nagging on me the whole night to drink and everyone who was drunk was acting like a fool. Turns out: getting drinks spilled on my sandaled feet every 5 seconds, having loud music blaring in my ears and smoke machines burning my eyes along with all types of nasty guys groping, fondling, and grinding on me without my permission is just NOT MY CUP OF TEA afterall.

I've come to the conclusion that drinking is just not for me.

NONE of it tastes good to me. It almost always is equated with staying up way past my bedtime, leaves me feeling sick and tired the next morning and usually leads to a day of laying around doing nothing until I start to feel better...or until it's time to go to bed again. It's a waste of money and a waste of time. I have things to do, places to go, and people to see. I'd like to be awake and feeling good for it all.

Once again, I'm finding that I'm not much of a fan of alcohol...and this time it has nothing to do with Christianity.

SYMPTOMS OF A FAITH LOST - PART 14

Into the Abyss...

As my time away from Christianity lengthens, my desire to do all the things I never did before increases. I start to add late night clubbing and smoking marijuana to the list of things I think I should do.

For a while after drinking so much to the point of blacking out, I couldn’t get near a glass of alcohol. I would nearly vomit at the smell of it and had no desire whatsoever to ever have another drop of it again…that lasted for about a year. And then it was gone. I started drinking again and this time I was a little better at it. I never blacked out again and rarely woke up sick the next morning.

I’m kind of enjoying being the “one who rebels”, the “one who doesn’t believe”, the “one who goes against”, the “one who doesn’t accept”. I would dress up, go out to the club, down shots, laugh my ass off, and rub body parts with faceless dudes who didn’t mean a thing to me. And, while I didn’t gain anything lasting or of true value during all of this, I sure did have a hell of a lot of fun.

I got high for the first time on a kayak in the middle of a lake. All of my senses were heightened, like I could feel things with my eyes, not just see them. It was like I could feel things with my ears, not just hear them. And it was like everything was connected. I felt intricately connected to the trees, the water, the waves, and the animals. I could feel the wind brush over my skin and watch the waves ripple – it was like I could feel the waves ripple. Everything slowed down and I was completely content. I slowed down and just kind of let the waves take me when I spotted two loon’s on the water near me. I felt like I was a loon in my kayak, watching them float over the water as the waves tossed them about, as I was also being tossed about by the waves. Once I was high it was like I had completely new senses and could really zone into certain things. I would forget things and lose my train of thought. It was kind of like it emptied my mind of all the thoughts and worries and extra stuff that’s in there usually, I was able to just BE, and be present where I was and to take in the stimulus (sights, sounds, and sensations) around me. The water was really tripping me out though, many times while I was kayaking I would stop and just stare at the water and watch it as it moved and changed. It was absolutely fascinating to me. And if it wasn't for things like the law, jobs, and obligitory drug tests, I would probably make it a more frequent habit.

SYMPTOMS OF A FAITH LOST - PART 13

It's time to get away...

The following summer I head off to the woods of the east coast for some much needed SPACE from all they pain and frustration I’ve been feeling. I work with a large group of 20 something’s with psychology backgrounds at a residential treatment facility for kids. The days are long and hard and leave little room for me to wallow in anger or sadness or worry about my crisis of faith.

It’s exactly the change of scenery that I needed. And although 90% of my coworkers are NOT Christian, I come to discover that these are some of the nicest people I’ve ever met. Everybody is welcome and fits in. It doesn’t matter what you look like, what your into, or what your beliefs are because everyone is accepted and everyone is working together towards a common goal. People are always offering their help and picking up somebody else’s slack when necessary. Even though I’ve grown up in the church I come to realize that not once before this summer have I ever felt so accepted, safe, and unconditionally loved as I do in this place…which only strengthens my resolve to stay away from the church and it’s backstabbing people.

Why was Jesus so confusing?

And why in the heck did Jesus speak in parables anyway? Why didn’t he just speak plainly? Why did he leave SO MUCH to our understanding, our interpretation, our imagination? Assuming that what he was teaching was relevant to us and important for us to know…WHY did he leave so much ROOM for ERROR? Why does he allow us to get it wrong and fight with each other over who’s interpreting his stories in the most accurate way?

Pick a Little Here…Choose a Little There

So often I’ve seen and heard people in the church “pick and choose” what to believe/endorse/enforce from the Bible. Walking down the halls of a Christian University sixty years ago you would have never seen a young man with hair past his chin, a girl with ear and/or facial piercings, or the multiple tattoos on the arms and legs and toes of passerby. Nowadays it’s commonplace. We all believe that killing is wrong…but we would never dare to put ourselves in the same category as a killer when we tell a little lie or secretly want to catch that married man’s eye. All three actions go against the 10 commandments, but they carry different weight…WHY? And who decided?

The church highlights and underlines in red anything that has to do with gay/lesbian relations as something of the Devil…something to be delivered from but within those same churches come the straight men who sleep around and cheat on their wives, within those same churches come the ladies who gather in groups to gossip about “so-and-so” and “what’s his name” and how they’re going to go to hell for this, that, or the other thing. What is the difference??

Is all of the Bible 100% true, to be taken at its word exactly as it is written? Was the great flood an actual event that really took place or is it simply a symbolic story told to teach a lesson or prove a point? And if it really did happen, how do you account for the fact that a very similar flood story is found in other literature? Who copied who? Or could they possibly be referencing the same event? Did God really allow for Job to be tortured by the Devil? Did the crucifixion actually happen?

And each church/individual seems to take their own (unique and different) experiences into account as they look for ways to synthesis the words/parables/stories of the Bible into everyday circumstances in the attempt to make them easier to understand in our context. It’s only natural that people do this – but when we do, we cannot possibly ALL be right…..can we even be sure that ANY of us is right? I’ve heard too many different interpretations on the same piece of scripture – seen a single piece of scripture pulled and torn and twisted until it fit somebody’s justification for this action or that belief and at the same time seen it pulled and torn and twisted in a different direction in order to fit somebody else’s agenda. We can't possibly all have the right answer.

No more answers to life’s big questions…

The moment I decided to jump over to the other side of the fence my world immediately crashed down around me. Christianity had told me where I came from, who I was, why I was here, and where I was going. I had no answers for these questions anymore.

It got me thinking…what if Christianity is nothing more than a confused man’s (or many men’s) effort to produce some answers for himself?

Christianity is the only thing that explains...

"Christianity is the only thing that explains how that tree got there, why my body works, or how my body was healed..."

I can understand this line of thought.

There are a lot of unexplainable things in this world.

But should I believe in Christianity just because I can't think of anything else that can explain the mysteries and miracles of life?

Where would I be without God???

Someone once challenged me to consider where I would be if it wasn’t for this whole “Christianity” thing…as if it’s real and valid BECAUSE it can save us from bad things or wrong choices.

I wasn’t buying it.

A good healthy conscience and a sense of wrong and right (along with a little luck) can also keep us from bad things, and I’m pretty sure you don’t have to be a Christian to have either.

In fact, I would challenge that Christians may not really have a lot of either of those things either…what they really have is guilt. They feel guilty about doing (or wanting to do) everything that the Bible tells them not to…and guilty about all the things they don’t do that the Bible tells them they should. How do I know?? Because I once was one! (And just to be fair…let me clarify that I do realize that my story is not everybody’s story and that not every Christian walks around with guilt hanging from their neck…but from experience I can say that a lot of them do)

What do you think? Is the fact that Christianity can keep us from bad things and bad choices enough to prove that it’s real? Is it enough reason to believe?

Lack of Trust

A couple months later I end up talking to the director of my dorm at school about all my doubts. I needed someone to talk to that didn’t know me or my back story, someone older and wiser, and hopefully someone who would challenge me. (Also I’m pretty sure my Christian friends were tired of hearing me talk about how Christianity just couldn’t possibly be true…followed by my ever changing list of exactly why not….)

She certainly challenged me to think in ways that I hadn’t been thinking and to come up with answers to things I hadn’t thought of. Unfortunately I almost always had an answer for all of her questions that made perfect sense (at least to me).

Through the course of our conversations I made a list of things that I did and did not trust.

I Trust:

What I experience firsthand (with the exception sometimes to feelings and emotions)

That faith is not fact and therefore can’t necessarily be proven

That some biblical ideals/themes/claims have value and merit regardless of whether they are biblical or Godly or Christian or not

That something bigger than me exists

That I was created and therefore there is a creator

That miraculous things can happen

I Don’t Trust:

That anything is absolute or rather that we can determine what is absolute

That the Bible is infallible

Archeology, books, theologies, history

That Christians have correctly interpreted the scriptures and that the American Christian church has it right when it comes to how to live out your faith/God/Jesus/salvation

Christians in general

I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND THIS RESISTANCE IN ME.

In and out of Faith

There have been many times throughout the last 4-5 years that I’ve gone up and down, in and out of faith. I have it and then suddenly it slips away again before I can readjust my grip. Throughout the whole time, one thing has NEVER changed. I have not for a second stopped wanting it.

After the crisis passes my faith immediately falls away again. I justify that my reverting to Christianity so quickly after going through a hard time is only proof that religion IS a coping mechanism, which is one of the reasons why I just can’t trust it. The fact that religion did serve as a coping mechanism is nice and all…but it’s just not enough. I cannot simply believe it’s real and true just because it did something good for me.

People say that faith is not a feeling but it’s a choice. I hear that…but how can I choose to have faith in something that I’m not convinced is actually real and true?? It would be foolishness, it would be fake, it would be pretending – and I refuse to do it. And if faith is a gift, I can't get it on my own anyway. So who's fault is it that I can't find my faith? (I'm confused)

Due to the fact that I can’t make the choice to have faith on a whim or a simple desire, I try to think and think and think my way back to faith…but its hard work and it’s draining, it’s sad, it’s frustrating, and it’s scary…so I inevitably end up putting it back up on the shelf again…

Until the next time that I find myself really really wanting it again. At different times and for different reasons the yearning for something to believe in intensifies. Sometimes it’s hearing a worship song as I’m flipping the radio stations, or it’s a wedding, a funeral, or hearing a friend talk about how God’s “done this or done that” for them. I feel it when I see how people of faith have “this thing” that I used to have…this certainty. Sometimes it’s because I miss knowing that something bigger than me is always here with me and on my side. Sometimes it’s because I’m thinking of a future, a family with a husband and children…a husband who I had always thought would be a Christian just like me….only it’s not “just like me” anymore. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life with someone who doesn’t believe in God, someone who thinks that we’re alone in this life and that once we die, it’s over and we're just going to rot in the ground...and I don’t want to raise my kids to believe that either. Sometimes the reason I want my faith back is because I just don’t have the strength or the energy left to continue searching for it.

But then I catch myself. I don’t want to just make a “tired choice” to once again believe in Christianity. The fact that I’m tired of not believing in something and I'm tired of asking endless questions that most often don’t lead to answers does NOT mean its ok for me to just fall back into the comfort of Christianity. It has to be because I’m convinced it’s the only way, it has to be genuine, it has to be real.

SYMPTOMS OF A FAITH LOST - PART 11

Learning to Cope

I discovered many ways to cope during the next many months…some were beneficial, some could have been a little dangerous, and some just didn’t really work that well.

I started by gathering up everything that was his, everything that he had given me (with exception to the Frank Sinatra CD…because...well, why should I have to spend another $19.99 on a second copy? -Just because the guy who gave it to me is an asshole?? I don't think so.), and everything that reminded me of him and I either got rid of it or threw it in a box. I showed up to work with an armful of his junk and plopped it in his arms as he was standing in front of me with this confused and wondering expression on his face. I wondered, could he really be confused at this point? How dense is he really?

I redecorated my room, painted the walls, and got some new artwork to hang. We had spent nights together in that room, and I needed it to look like a completely different place.

I started neglecting my responsibilities and I stopped doing the things that I one enjoyed. My friends and family rarely saw me or heard from me. I started skipping classes and calling in “sick” to work again. I was sleeping all through the day and couldn’t sleep at night.

I ordered a bunch of man-hating, rage filled, vengeful female power songs from itunes and was constantly listening to it. Singing along to the music at the top of my lungs was very cathartic and satisfying.

And then I started burning things. I literally carried around a “burning can” and a bunch of matches in my car for a few months. I never knew when I might feel motivated to pull out something and burn it. I still had a few of his things around too, so I burned them. I wrote down memories and burned them. I wrote down my feelings of hate, of betrayal, of anger at myself, of sadness…and I burned them too.

I went on ridiculous cleaning sprees at the most random times. When I feel out of control of my emotions I need desperately to feel in control of something and that usually results in cleaning and organizing…and cleaning, and organizing (the common area on the floor of my dorm room was never cleaner than it was during those months!).

I enrolled for a weekly kickboxing class (even though I couldn’t really afford it) and imagined that his face, his hands, his neck, his eye, his heart...was pinned up to the punching bag and I got a lot of pleasure out of repeatedly punching and kicking him to death (not literally of course).

I threw my shoes in the river. I know it’s not the most green thing I could have done…but it was incredibly symbolic for me at the time. You see, through all four years that I knew him, we had the very same pair of classic black Adidas. We showed up to work wearing the same shoes and we’d get our shoes mixed up at friends’ houses. I don’t know how many times I saw our shoes sitting side by side. He said it was “proof that we were meant to be together” and no matter how ridiculous that was, I admit I kind of believed it a little bit. I knew that I needed to get a new pair of shoes…but more than that; I needed to destroy this old pair. I took out a permanent marker and wrote words of farewell, words of profanity, and words of empowerment…and then I tossed them over the Mississippi river bridge. And it wasn't just the shoes that I threw in the river that night, it was any chance of their ever again being a "me and him". And it felt so damn good.

I was starting to get a little self-injurious…doing anything I could think of to make myself sick because I so desperately wanted my physical body to feel as much pain as I felt mentally and emotionally. I started thinking of suicide and that’s when I knew I had to do something. Going to work each day, seeing his face, and reliving all that had happened was not helping me to move on or to let go of the anger, it was just making it worse…so I quit my job (which turned out to be one of the best decisions I made during that time) and that finally allowed me to get some much needed space from him.

I was starting to get a little reckless in other areas too. I would randomly drive to the lake and jump in during the middle of the night. I once attempted to switch seats with one of my friends while we were driving down the freeway. My other friend in the car almost had a panic attack, thoroughly freaked out by my "apparent death wish" as she wanted to have no part in it. Late one night I went for a long walk in the rain. I walked past all the bars we had been to that night, I walked past two of the restaurants where we had been together, and I walked all the way over to the other side of town, each step reclaiming a piece of land, a landmark, or a property where we had either been together, slept together, or worked together. I was reclaiming it for my own sake. Since all the shit went down, I had avoided everything that would remind me of him. I would refuse to go out if it meant I would be near one of those places or risk seeing him or someone that he knew. I would start to panic if I got too close, so I usually just turned around and went the other way. But that night, I was reclaiming it for me. I was no longer going to let him rule over me. I ended my walk a few hours later, on the other side of town, dripping wet…and scared for the first time. I was so far from home, I was wet and cold, and I was not in a good neighborhood. I called a friend and when I told him where I was he came to get me right away and drove me home. My friends were starting to worry about me, but I still took every chance I could to feel a little thrill, a little fear, a little danger…because anything was better than feeling sad.

I started to journal, I wrote poetry, and I created art work. I started taking guitar lessons to keep myself busy and I eventually started talking about what had happened. There was so much guilt and shame pent up in me and keeping it a secret didn’t help. I found that as I started talking about it a little bit of that shame fell away each time. I analyzed myself and my actions, in the attempt to learn every lesson possible because I never wanted to make those mistakes again.

SYMPTOM OF A FAITH LOST - PART 10

(one of) The Turn-Around(s)

Hitting rock bottom sure has a way of sending a skeptic straight back into the arms of religion...here’s yet another journal entry:

Dear God:

Thank you for revealing your truth to me. It’s been so long since I’ve believed – since I’ve wanted to believe. I’m excited because I know things are better than they were simply because I have let you in. You make everything so much better. All my problems will not go away and there will be hard times, but it’s different now because I’m with you. From the moment that I began to really question and really doubt and step out of faith there was a trail of MESS constantly following behind me and I am glad to know that it does not have to continue. In fact, right now I am going to grab a scissor, I'm going to turn around and I'm going to cut the string that connected me to that trail of mess…as far as I'm concerned, it is no longer behind me and will no longer taint the good things in my life. And I realized something about the other day in chapel when I was crying at the altar…It wasn’t an uncontrollable or unexplainable force that brought me to my knees….it was me – I finally surrendered my stubbornness, I surrendered my questions, I surrendered my doubts and my intense resistance, I surrendered my rebellion….and I believe that God honored that and he took a hammer (or a right hand! Lol) to that big huge wall standing in front of me. As I was on my knees I could feel something break. I felt a release and it felt so real. I don’t know exactly why it happened to be only two days later that I ended up making some pretty shitty decisions and went out with that guy again…it was like the wall that had just been attacked was up and standing erect, stronger than ever - the very next day – but why? I’m not sure I understand why right now but I think what happened was really the wake-up call that I needed. It sucked to go through it and it sucks to still be going through it but it caused me to turn my eyes upwards to you and so in an odd way I’m grateful for it. I feel so different now than I did even a few weeks ago. It’s hard to explain but before I felt so tied down to disbelief, so bound to doubt and to rebellion, like I was trapped – it was like I knew it wasn’t the best for me but I couldn’t make any other choice but to rebel and I don’t feel that way anymore.

After that one horrible night, I had a lot of healing to do. If I thought I was angry before, I was mistaken, and if I thought I hated that guy before, I couldn't be more wrong.

Even though I had clung back to religion and GOD and faith (and constantly had Christian songs like Nichole Nordeman’s “Mercies New”, Rita Springer’s “Freedom Reigns” and Eddie Kirkland’s “How He Loves” playing from my itunes on repeat…) I still had a ridiculous amount of pain and anger and hate pent up inside me and it needed to find its way out of me.

SYMPTOMS OF A FAITH LOST - PART 9

The Rock Hits Bottom

Unfortunately, my breakthrough was not enough to keep me away from "him".

This “guy” asks me to go get drinks with him on a Friday night and all my strength goes out the window. I had been dying to go out for drinks with this guy but he always refused. I just couldn’t say no.

Here’s another journal entry written after the events of that evening:

I still can’t believe what has happened in the last 24 hours. I have never in my life had that much hard alcohol (and I’m pretty sure it will never happen again). It’s like I don’t know who I am anymore. Somewhere in between that first shot of patron, the long island ice tea and that last lemon drop…things got pretty fuzzy. What really scares me about drinking is the power it has to alter your behavior. I had always heard it said that alcohol lowers your inhibitions but I have NEVER had a desire to do what I remember doing last night...at least not with him. I can still vividly recall what it was like. And I never once thought that it was weird or wrong, it was as if it was completely normal. What trips me out is that it felt so natural. I never once questioned what I was doing. It was like I’d done it a hundred times before. And even though I can remember it, it’s like I’m remembering somebody else’s story, somebody else’s life, somebody else's actions. My choices as of late have not been so good. I need to start making better choices. What scares me is the fact that I CAN’T REMEMBER what happened next. He said we had sex but I can’t prove whether that asshole is telling the truth or a lie. I might have lost my virginity last night but I can’t know that for sure and maybe I never will. I can’t even begin to explain how much that hurts. What scares me even more is the possibility of getting pregnant or having an STD. I would be surprised if he didn’t have any diseases (because he can't seem to keep his pants on) but I hope that he doesn’t. I need to stop messing with that dude.

After telling me that we had sex, he sent me on my way because "he had a study group to attend to" and he said he would call me later that afternoon. I drove home, sick as a dog, having to stop on my way to throw up along the side of the road. I slept it off and pretended like nothing had happened. None of my friends even knew that I had been spending the night with this guy and I certainly wasn’t ready to tell anyone that I had just lost my virginity to the asshole who had cheated on me when we were together - and on top of that, I couldn’t even remember it!

The “guy” never called me and I was feeling about as low as I could be. I decided that I really needed to know whether he was telling the truth…I just had to know whether or not I really had sex with him, and I knew I should probably get checked anyway. I was going to go to Planned Parenthood or something like that to see if they could tell whether or not I had sex, but they told me to go to the ER. And so I went. I told them what had happened and what I wanted to know…20 minutes later I found myself in a sterile room with my feet in the stir-ups and this lady telling me all about how I had been raped (which by the way, had NEVER crossed my mind until that very moment).

“There is no such thing as consent when you are drunk and given the fact that this guy knew how you felt about not wanting to have sex, he took advantage of you in your intoxicated state. He took from you what you would not give to him in a sober state.”

I was in a whirlwind of thoughts, emotions, and realities. This guy had still not called me (it was a couple days later at this point) and I was alone with the knowledge and the pain of what did (or did not) happen. I was starting to believe her…and then my phone rang. It was him. This guy always did have the most uncanny timing. He would call me as I’m in the ER attempting to figure out whether we did or did not have sex, experiencing the first pap smear of my life, getting poked and prodded, having my whole body examined, taking pills to prevent STD’s and unwanted pregnancy, and listening to this lady talking all about how I had been raped.

I called that guy back after I got home and I let him have it. I cussed at him and called him all types of names. I told him that I went to the ER and got a rape kit done…which is when he decided to tell me that he was “JUST JOKING” when he said we had sex. This asshole was just joking???? Are you kidding me? He said that he was so drunk that even he didn’t remember all of what had taken place that night. (It’s just like him to tell a lie like that and not think twice) I told him I was pressing charges with the police (that was the only way I could get the results of all the tests they did at the hospital) - he got scared - I delighted in the fact that he thought his life was about to end (even though I never really had any real intention of going to the police) - and then I hung up the phone.

The thing is...if this guy really cared about me at all, he wouldn’t have let me walk out of his house that morning with the thought that we had had sex, when he really didn’t know. He knew that I had never had sex, and he knew that I wanted to wait until marriage, and I know he saw the horror and the shock and the despair in my face when he told me that we did.

This guy had been like a drug to me…an addictive, yet overwhelmingly toxic substance…and I realized that I really needed to quit him…and I needed desperately to quit him for good this time.

SYMPTOMS OF A FAITH LOST - PART 8

Calling it "Quits"...again

I finally came to the realization that spending my nights in this dudes bed was not doing me any favors. If this “GOD” was real, he wouldn’t be pleased with it and spending my time wrapped up in his sheets was keeping me from the things I really wanted…a true love…a guy who would really see me and care for me, in a way that this other “guy” never could. I decided to stop seeing him. I was very confident in my position to leave him alone, and that very next day a friend of mine asked me to go to chapel…she said that I...“needed to be there.”

Normally a simple request wouldn’t have influenced me to go to chapel, especially considering the way I had been feeling lately, but this time was different. I felt certain that if I didn’t go, I would miss out on something…and so I went.

Here is an excerpt from my journal about what happened:

Something happened in chapel….I think something broke. That’s what it felt like anyways. All through worship, even though I wasn’t singing and wasn’t standing, I felt somehow different and I began to cry. It wasn’t much more than a tear here and there. I felt such strong emotion yet didn’t quite know why. At the end of the message, the speaker did an alter call reaching out to the people "who had fallen away and were doing things they were not supposed to be doing". This certainly could have been applied to me but I was still in one of my stubborn “I don’t believe” “this is a bunch of bullshit” attitudes and there was no way I was going up to the alter. I wasn’t ready to leave yet either for some reason. I continued to sit there and all of a sudden I was down on my knees with my head down. I don’t know exactly why I did it but it felt like a physical representation of a sort of surrender of my spirit or will or something. A friend came over to pray for me and in that moment something came over me because I just started to really cry my eyes out (tears falling to the ground, body shaking uncontrollably and snot dripping down my face) and I couldn’t stop it or hold it back. I’m not fully sure what to make of it right now but it seemed like a sort of breakthrough. I thought it felt like God was pursuing me – perhaps illustrating to me why I should definitely leave “that guy” alone. It was like he was showing me what it felt like to be truly, sincerely, and honorable pursued. It made me feel, for the first time in a long time, like I was worthy of that sort of pursuit.

SYMPTOMS OF A FAITH LOST - PART 7

A moment of weakness...

Although me and “this guy” worked together, I pretty thoroughly ignored him for the next three months. Shortly after I broke it off with him I found out from a mutual acquaintance that he did indeed have a baby on the way…in fact, he probably had 2 babies on the way. I found out just how pregnant the second girl was...did the math…and realized that this guy had definitely slept with this other girl while we were together. That damn asshole cheated on me. I was more angry than I had ever been in my entire life and it kind of took me by surprise a little bit. I didn’t know where to put all the anger. I avoided him because I had no idea what might actually come out of my mouth if I ever spoke to him. Although I was as close to hating him as I thought I could get, I still hoped for some sort of peace or reconciliation…sometime in the future and didn’t want to mess up my chances of that.

I worked on trying to get rid of the hate and the anger. And coincidentally, it was right around the time that I was feeling like I was ready to let it all go that I hear from a friend that “this guy” is talking about how he must have really hurt me and he wants to make it all better and make it up to me  somehow. He confronts me at work and we have our first conversation since I broke it off with him. I confront him with what I’ve heard and he admits to most of it. Surprisingly this does not make me more angry, it has the opposite effect and actually softens me towards him a little…not enough for me to go running back in his arms though. I tell him that I can’t remember the good times, that I can’t trust anything I thought we had together…because he lied. He fights to get back in my good graces…to no avail…for awhile. I finally agree to meet him for dinner a couple times and we continue to talk things out and address the past. I feel a little bit of that reconciliation that I was hoping for…and then it happens.

It’s over winter break and I’m feeling really lonely…feeling really sad…feeling like I just wish somebody would hold me. In a moment of weakness (and idiocy) I call this dude and ask him if I can come over. Of course he says yes and I make my way over there, telling him I want him to “just hold me” - so, naturally we decide that the best thing to do is lay in bed watching a scary movie. All through the movie I jump and scream and he squeezes me tight. It’s pretty late once the movie is done and although we had agreed that we weren’t going to do anything else he starts to make his move and I’m too tired to put up a fight. I end up spending the night…lying to my mom about where I am (for the first time in my entire life) and thinking that I’m probably going to regret it in the morning…only I DON’T regret it at all. I actually feel a little liberated…which was probably due to the fact that my conscience had now officially left the building. In lieu of my loss of faith, pretty much anything was acceptable and I didn’t feel guilty  at all about spending the night with my ex-boyfriend…a guy who had cheated on me…a guy who never really knew how to treat me right…a guy who I knew wasn’t a good guy and certainly did not deserve my time, my energy, or my affection. At the time, all I cared about was the fact that he knew my body and I knew his. He knew how to hold me right and make me feel good. Things with him were comfortable and at a time when I felt like I needed to be held, it wasn't scary at all to ask him to hold me. I convinced myself that my heart was not involved in these late night rendezvous and therefore nobody (especially not me) would get hurt...