Recently I have spent more time with medical professionals than I would care to and much more than I would care to admit. Something has gone wrong inside me and until now, I've desperately sought a cure. Perhaps this perception is less than accurate, perhaps I still seek a cure.
I was baptized Lutheran. I don't recall a time in my life when we went to church with any regularity. I cannot even remember consistently attending on holidays. My mother believes in God, but never discussed it much.
My parents used to tell me that when I was quite small, maybe around the age of two or three, we would go to church and I would turn to face the people behind me and snort like a pig. The pastor would stop his sermon to ask a nice black woman (the only black woman I knew, maybe one of 20 who lived in my hometown) who was somehow affiliated with the church to escort me downstairs and out of earshot. I always pictured the pastor doing this in a loving and comical way, but maybe he was annoyed. Perhaps it doesn't matter.
I treasured this story, of which I was the star of the show. I like to think its a natural talent to so captivate an audience. From this story I've subconsciously carried around 2 ideas that I held to be viciously true: A.) As a small child I was completely adorable and B.) Church was not the place for me.
I think middle school is a treacherous for anyone. I've always thought it was worse for me. Perhaps this is true or just a sign of my youth. I've yet to abandon my desire to be unique. I felt more unique that year than any other I've experienced. Strained relations with my peers crushed much of who I had been before then and are still blamed for who I have become.
I've always been a solutions oriented person. So in an effort to resolve the growing dissonance in my life at that time (as well as having heard that it was the scholarly thing to do) I started reading the Bible. My mother bought me my own study bible. It was covered in geometric symmetrical silver holograms with bubbly letters on the front and a purple border. It was all very Jesus Christ Superstar.
I wanted so desperately to believe. I might as well have highlighted the whole book because all that is left now is a few margins without notes. I memorized passages and created my own complex theory as to why the existence of God cannot be proven. My parents arranged for private confirmation classes with the same pastor whom I had interrupted as a wee piglet.
During one of my classes I asked a question about evolution and he explained to me that he believes the dinosaurs were killed in The Flood (you know the one). I countered with, "But I thought Noah was supposed to take 2 of everything?" He said, "The bible is not a factual history book, it is the story of God." We didn't meet again after that, though I don't recall why.
I found the God in the Bible to be wrathful and dis-compassionate. I decided that if this was the one true God, I wanted nothing to do with him. I was lacking the relief I was convinced I should have been feeling from faith in God. Furthermore, his followers seemed blind to reality. I knew many Christians who despite not reading the Bible, pledged their lives to this god. I became an avid atheist believing that religion was designed to control people and used as a tool of war. I thought myself quite clever and progressive.
When I came out I heard about a local church that was "open and affirming". Desperate to meet other gay people I dragged my mom to church. I fell head over heels for a girl that day. After months of pursuit she would be my first real kiss (I try not to think about the times I kissed men) only to tell me that she was sorry she'd mislead me and didn't mean for it to happen.
At any rate she was reason enough to continue attending church. The people were overwhelmingly welcoming and the pastor was very open and accessible for the kind of complex conversations I needed, of which we had many. The first time she said, "Jesus loves you" I abandoned ship.
When fall term started I heard that the local synagogue had a lesbian Rabbi. I could not believe that any religion was permitting "the gays" in their places of worship, let alone lead them. I decided to check it out for myself. I felt like I was going to vomit as I wanted for the service to start. I was afraid by entering such a temple God was more likely to notice I'd gone gay, even though I remained adamant that he did not exist.
She was breathtakingly beautiful and radiated confidence and inner peace. That was all the reason I needed to convert. I met with her privately to discuss this plan and figure out how to become a Jew. I expected her to be as excited as Christians were to increase their numbers. Instead she said:
I was baptized Lutheran. I don't recall a time in my life when we went to church with any regularity. I cannot even remember consistently attending on holidays. My mother believes in God, but never discussed it much.
My parents used to tell me that when I was quite small, maybe around the age of two or three, we would go to church and I would turn to face the people behind me and snort like a pig. The pastor would stop his sermon to ask a nice black woman (the only black woman I knew, maybe one of 20 who lived in my hometown) who was somehow affiliated with the church to escort me downstairs and out of earshot. I always pictured the pastor doing this in a loving and comical way, but maybe he was annoyed. Perhaps it doesn't matter.
I treasured this story, of which I was the star of the show. I like to think its a natural talent to so captivate an audience. From this story I've subconsciously carried around 2 ideas that I held to be viciously true: A.) As a small child I was completely adorable and B.) Church was not the place for me.
I think middle school is a treacherous for anyone. I've always thought it was worse for me. Perhaps this is true or just a sign of my youth. I've yet to abandon my desire to be unique. I felt more unique that year than any other I've experienced. Strained relations with my peers crushed much of who I had been before then and are still blamed for who I have become.
I've always been a solutions oriented person. So in an effort to resolve the growing dissonance in my life at that time (as well as having heard that it was the scholarly thing to do) I started reading the Bible. My mother bought me my own study bible. It was covered in geometric symmetrical silver holograms with bubbly letters on the front and a purple border. It was all very Jesus Christ Superstar.
I wanted so desperately to believe. I might as well have highlighted the whole book because all that is left now is a few margins without notes. I memorized passages and created my own complex theory as to why the existence of God cannot be proven. My parents arranged for private confirmation classes with the same pastor whom I had interrupted as a wee piglet.
During one of my classes I asked a question about evolution and he explained to me that he believes the dinosaurs were killed in The Flood (you know the one). I countered with, "But I thought Noah was supposed to take 2 of everything?" He said, "The bible is not a factual history book, it is the story of God." We didn't meet again after that, though I don't recall why.
I found the God in the Bible to be wrathful and dis-compassionate. I decided that if this was the one true God, I wanted nothing to do with him. I was lacking the relief I was convinced I should have been feeling from faith in God. Furthermore, his followers seemed blind to reality. I knew many Christians who despite not reading the Bible, pledged their lives to this god. I became an avid atheist believing that religion was designed to control people and used as a tool of war. I thought myself quite clever and progressive.
When I came out I heard about a local church that was "open and affirming". Desperate to meet other gay people I dragged my mom to church. I fell head over heels for a girl that day. After months of pursuit she would be my first real kiss (I try not to think about the times I kissed men) only to tell me that she was sorry she'd mislead me and didn't mean for it to happen.
At any rate she was reason enough to continue attending church. The people were overwhelmingly welcoming and the pastor was very open and accessible for the kind of complex conversations I needed, of which we had many. The first time she said, "Jesus loves you" I abandoned ship.
When fall term started I heard that the local synagogue had a lesbian Rabbi. I could not believe that any religion was permitting "the gays" in their places of worship, let alone lead them. I decided to check it out for myself. I felt like I was going to vomit as I wanted for the service to start. I was afraid by entering such a temple God was more likely to notice I'd gone gay, even though I remained adamant that he did not exist.
She was breathtakingly beautiful and radiated confidence and inner peace. That was all the reason I needed to convert. I met with her privately to discuss this plan and figure out how to become a Jew. I expected her to be as excited as Christians were to increase their numbers. Instead she said:
You are more than welcome to pursue this plan if this is what is in your heart. But let me say this, faith is a mountain in which there are many paths to the summit, the views differ from each path but none is greater than the other. I encourage you to take the path you were born into but support you if you choose to find your own way.
I was nineteen at the time. I spent the next few years being comforted by the knowledge that I had the freedom to choose my path. So soothing did I find this idea that soon I was so comfortable I stopped moving at all. Surrounded by so many trees I forgot the mountain beneath my feet even existed. As much as I cling to the idea that I am not in need of faith, the mountain remains.
Six years later, the sun is setting on the well worn grass I've been pacing. I've resided here so long that all the nourishment is depleted from the land. For awhile the familiarity and shelter of the trees has kept me here but the knowledge that staying will mean starvation is ever growing as is my need for thinner air.
The trouble with medical professionals, spiritual leaders and myself is that we are unavoidably human and consequently possess such a small glimpse of the knowledge the world contains and even less of its wisdom. I fear humanity alone is unable to cure me and so I seek higher ground currently in possession of only a faulty inner compass and misconceived life experiences.
Six years later, the sun is setting on the well worn grass I've been pacing. I've resided here so long that all the nourishment is depleted from the land. For awhile the familiarity and shelter of the trees has kept me here but the knowledge that staying will mean starvation is ever growing as is my need for thinner air.
The trouble with medical professionals, spiritual leaders and myself is that we are unavoidably human and consequently possess such a small glimpse of the knowledge the world contains and even less of its wisdom. I fear humanity alone is unable to cure me and so I seek higher ground currently in possession of only a faulty inner compass and misconceived life experiences.
