Religious Confessional

I've off and on mentioned my experiences with the church, specifically being raised in the church and DH's family being church-goers. The following is basically my story of how I went from devout believer to cynic and why I don't regret where my experiences have taken me this far.

I was in the church ever since I can remember, non-denominational, evangelical- baptist roots. I never knew of a time where I did not know of Jesus and for this I am both thankful and regretful. We didn't have a video camera growing up but we had a recorder and my sister and I would frequently put on shows and radio programs featuring us singing church-songs. It's all I knew. Seriously. Listening back to those tapes I must have only listed to that kind of music because that was all I ever sang.

I was indoctrinated at a young age and expected to 'feel' what I had been taught. I never did. I remember my mom sobbing because of what Jesus did for ME and how I wasn't emotional about it. How could I be? I was barely in grade-school. I walked the walk, I talked the talk. I took part in 'slut-shaming' because that's how I was raised, I wore boy clothes because women's shorts were too short. I felt scared and insecure about my body because it was merely a 'stumbling block' to others and not my own. There was an incredible detachment from self there- your body is God's temple- not your own to do with as you will. Instead of instilling respect in this way, this teaching only instilled fear. Shame. Regret. For what? For being human. For being a female. For having body parts that caused men to 'sin'. For being me.

My personal religion turned to cynicism during the times I was in contact with the NIL's. I saw how bad religious people could be, I saw how they treated victims of abuse and encouraged unhealthy levels of contact between the abused and the abuser. This was not something I believed in.

There are exceptions, I appreciate honest and true Christians who mean what they say and are- above all- there for people more vulnerable than themselves. Truly, they are rare.

I snort when I hear someone offer to pray for another hurting person, and then go on to forget. I believe in God, but don't believe in the power of prayer to do anything but put off decision making.

Another thing I've struggled with is retribution theology- the thought that good deeds are treated with good blessings and bad deeds are punished with hardships. Being poor, as in one-car, living paycheck to paycheck, not being in debt but not living above our means- has really opened my eyes to this belief. Rarely do I see churches meeting their communities need for food or clothes for children. Most often than not, these ministries come from Catholic or non-Christian organizations. I've missed meals while people tell me they are praying my husband finds a better job. Thanks but no thanks. Due to my efforts and not your prayers- my son goes on blissfully unaware because of the sacrifices I make for him.

I'm still trying to find out who God is. I believe in him. I don't know what to make of him. Falling hard on my butt due to the Christians in my life who abuse and neglect- I don't know where I will end up in the end. Betwixt and between.