Since I left the church and being a minister some 15 or 16 years ago now, I find that I still stalk the perimeters of it.
I walk around it. Try to make sense of its structure.
I look hard at individual bricks, some placed down centuries ago, some more modern and ill-fitting.
I will occasionally walk up and jiggle some door handle that I haven't tried before. Maybe this is what will help me back in.
But if it opens and I step inside, I see just the same hollow emptiness.
Broken promises litter the cracked foundation.
Inner-peace, an accepting community, unconditional love.
I still want those things. Who doesn't?
But where can one get them? Do they really even exist?
And I know that big flashy corporate American Jesus is not where those things can be found. I know that's not even where Jesus can be found.
But my childhood is inside that structure.
All my favorite music from when I was a teenager is in there.
My parents still exist within it. As pastors they are gatekeepers. Defenders of the building.
A lot of my friends still exist somewhere within it.
Our culture remains dominated by it, either by submission or rebellion. We can go through it or around it, but rarely can we ignore it completely.
And I keep going back.
In part to make sense of who I am now and how I got here. All in the hope of answering where to go from here.
In part because, damn it, I want the things. I remember fondly the feeling that everything was in control, that there was a plan, some divine purpose to every bit of pain.
And I want community. I no longer want to admit it, but I do.
I say all of this because, as it often happens, while I walk the perimeter of my past life I run into people who believe in the truth of it all.
That these promises still exist, but that it just must have been my fault for missing it. I just didn't see things right or do things properly.
Some of these people (not all, but some) have a confidence about them. They eye me like a big game hunter would a trophy kill.
I represent a challenge.
A challenge in the sense that I am hard to win over. I liked talking to people like me too, that is before I became like me. Oh, what a victory to win for Jesus an intelligent atheist soul. What a get.
But I am also a challenge because I am dangerous. How easily the hunter can become the trophy kill.
Like I said, I used to talk to people like me. And then I became that kind of person. It was in my attempts to win wayward souls for the Lord that I myself became a wayward soul.
And I am glad I did. I am glad I left. I am a better person now. I am a more moral person. More honest with myself.
But it is hard out here in the wild. A freedom from confining walls can also mean a freedom from shelter.
Which is why sometimes when the wind is especially cold, a friendly gesture from a firm believer lures me closer to the safety they are selling.
Such a conversation happened this morning. I don't know why I feel so invested in all these metaphors today. Maybe I just can't speak to it directly.
But this person, this Christian pastor, asked some probing questions. Nothing I haven't been asked before, but things I haven't considered in a while. Questions about belonging and human flourishing and just what it is that we "need" to be made whole.
And I have answers. But I also have a lot of unmet needs.
I am alone.
I am alone and I don't always want to be.
Wouldn't acceptance be amazing? To be fully known and fully loved.
I want it. I want to believe what this guy has to say.
But I have opened this door before. I know what awaits me inside.
So I keep my needs and my flaws and my loneliness and loss of belonging and lack of community. I choose them over false hope, broken promises, and non-reality.
Several years ago I wrote a poem about all of this. About my longing, about my conflict.
I ended with the line:
"How restlessly I sleep on cold hard facts."
Restless but free.
Alone but authentic.
I walk back into the wilderness of mystery. To the darkened unknown forest.
I will not shelter myself from the elements, from anything.
Believing that when the cold wind comes, I will eventually learn to unfold my wings and use it to take flight.
10:37 a.m. - 2021-02-08
Recent entries:
Soul Tornado (that sounds like a Christian book title, doesn't it?) - 2021-03-29
The Letters - 2021-03-13
The Last Time - 2021-03-04
The Lady of Louisiana (it's long, but hopefully readable) - 2021-02-17
Snow Week - 2021-02-15
My profile
Archives
Notes
Diaryland
Random
RSS
others:
warpednormal
similar
jim515
swordfern
poetinthesky
darkly-blue
loveherwell
holdensolo
lust-
bantenhut
i-am-jack
musicman575
comebacktome
aryssa90
i-lost-sarah
newschick
hexes
gonzoprophet
stardumb
cybers1ut
meffinmisfit
movingsands
the-grey-one
dangerspouse
unowhatilike
silverluna
elusive-you
tobehis
kenny-loo
brothasistas
my-rant
is-life
godsintimate
creme-egg
ruby--sky
reevo
dooki
dagkyo
buddyboy5
obijuan
u2october
nudeplatypus
baby--girl
mojo1915
krunkjazz
alwaysinhim
cindylou03
gr8legs
greenstar7
spittingame
dudemanflab