I woke up spontaneously this morning at around 4:30 or so.
On my mind were some people that I have not heard from or given much thought to in some time.
I think maybe I had a dream about them. I don't know why they popped into my head like that. My former self would have considered this a divine omen. That it was the Holy Spirit that impressed these individuals on me and that I was woken up to pray for them.
That kind of stuff used to happen all the time. I would pray frantically for whomever I woke up thinking about. Sometimes it would be people I actually knew. Other times it would be whole nations or celebrities or people that I had heard of but never met. I would usually speak in tongues while praying.
I suppose it's ironic that I thought of the people that I thought of in the way that I just did. As these people are the ones who completely abandoned me when I start really struggling with my faith.
Pastor Tim, who I lived with for several years while in bible school, accused me of being homosexual and then stopped responding to my emails. This was probably 11 years ago or so. I sent him a message on Facebook about six months ago, but he never responded to that. Maybe he thinks I want to debate him or something. Maybe he thinks I want to fuck him. I don't know.
Really though, I was just wanting to reconnect with him. The man was like a father to me for a long period of time. And much like my actual father, he was kind of emotionally abusive now that I look back on it. But still, I loved the man and would love to now how he is. You know, just as a person.
But he won't talk to me. Nor will the vast majority of people who went to that church, who was with me in bible school. None of those people want anything to do with me.
Since they give no reason why they don't talk to me, I am forced to speculate. My speculation is that they want nothing at all to do with apostates and backsliders. That makes me sad if it is true.
It also makes me so grateful that here in my quiet apartment in downtown Denver, I have escaped their version of Christianity. The kind that is cloistered and claustrophobic and paranoid of the outside world. The kind that is afraid of Muslims and gay people and R rated movies. The kind of Christianity that knows no joy but only fear and anger.
Not to say that I am anything or know anything or have found the real capital T truth. Not at all. But at least I know that what I left back in that Pentecostal church in Texas was not my salvation. What I left behind was nothing but a mixture of shame and certainty that did no good for anyone.
I don't know why I thought about these people. Especially not at 4:30 in the morning. But I offer up a prayer for them nonetheless:
May they find grace.
May they find peace.
May they be the embodiment of love and compassion.
May we all find Truth and live it with joy.
May none of us ever turn our backs on someone in need.
Amen.
6:28 a.m. - 2016-01-11
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