This is a writing a did a few years ago about my personal struggle to find god in spite of religion. I say in spite of religion, because I have had a hard time in comprehending the concepts of religion and those many variations of the rules that God supposedly put within them. please do bear with me.
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When I was a young child, I had no doubt there was a God. The only problem was, the "god" that I had known was what I had to trudge through Sunday school with and listen to dry, boring sermons on how we were all going to burn in hell (from my understanding) because we are all human and at one point or another are going to commit sin. The preacher never wasted an opportunity to tell us how God hates sin and sinners. So by this, I took it to mean every single person, unless a saint, was going to burn in hell.
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When I got a little bit older, I began to wonder exactly what was sin according to God? Did God really say there was such a thing as sin? If so, then why was sin different for everyone, and had so many variations on it? So, I started a very in-depth study of Christianity, to start with.
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Now, in the bible, as most of you know, there are many stories of things that happened to people who displeased God. Anything from beatings to death and everything in between. I still could not get clear answers to my questions. They seemed so muddled, and not as clear cut as the ten commandments would have one think.
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And then I started learning of Joan of Arc. I had seen an old black and white movie about her and was truly inspired by her bravery, devotion and love for God, as well as the lengths of the suffrage she went through for him. But, then I began to question that too. Why would God (supposedly merciful) allow one so loving and devoted to him to suffer at such lengths? Why would God have allowed her to even wage war in the name of politics? What great sin was committed by her if he chose her to be the Savior of Christianity? Again, sin came into question.
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When I was a young child, I had no doubt there was a God. The only problem was, the "god" that I had known was what I had to trudge through Sunday school with and listen to dry, boring sermons on how we were all going to burn in hell (from my understanding) because we are all human and at one point or another are going to commit sin. The preacher never wasted an opportunity to tell us how God hates sin and sinners. So by this, I took it to mean every single person, unless a saint, was going to burn in hell.
.
When I got a little bit older, I began to wonder exactly what was sin according to God? Did God really say there was such a thing as sin? If so, then why was sin different for everyone, and had so many variations on it? So, I started a very in-depth study of Christianity, to start with.
.
Now, in the bible, as most of you know, there are many stories of things that happened to people who displeased God. Anything from beatings to death and everything in between. I still could not get clear answers to my questions. They seemed so muddled, and not as clear cut as the ten commandments would have one think.
.
And then I started learning of Joan of Arc. I had seen an old black and white movie about her and was truly inspired by her bravery, devotion and love for God, as well as the lengths of the suffrage she went through for him. But, then I began to question that too. Why would God (supposedly merciful) allow one so loving and devoted to him to suffer at such lengths? Why would God have allowed her to even wage war in the name of politics? What great sin was committed by her if he chose her to be the Savior of Christianity? Again, sin came into question.
Through all this time I had been living with my birth mother. We had moved many times a year, and I had gone to many churches, by myself. I had noticed that each one had a different indoctrination, different ideals, different prayers, even different hymns. Even the atmospheres of each were different. The one thing that was constant, was the preacher/priest telling the congregation how we were God's children, how much he loved us, and that we were sinners and would burn in hell. There was very little variation on this, and that only through Christ would we be saved. Where we would be judged for our actions in life and then it would be decided whether or not we would be admitted through the pearly gates with the streets of gold, where we would not want for anything, a Utopia.
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Then my Grandfather died. He was the one person in the world I knew I could depend on for anything. He was my best friend, he was my everything at nine years old. I couldn't understand how a God that was supposed to be so loving to his children could allow this to happen. How could he let such a good man die? How could he take him from me? I had asked the priest after the funeral these questions. His reply was "He was a sinner, child. God takes the sinners so that we may find Him". I was devastated. How How could this man of the cloth tell me my grandfather was a sinner? So, I asked my grandmother how grandpa was a sinner, so bad that God had to take him to save us? She said because he drank sometimes, he smoked cigars, he taught me how to play poker and chess, and these were tools of Satan. Again, sin.
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I had a very hard time from then on. I did everything I possibly could to not be a sinner, it would kill my maternal Grandmother (who was now caring for me) if I died, which was becoming my only desire. I buried myself in the bible, the supposed word of God. I went to church everyday and prayed all the time. Very seldom was I not praying. I thought, if I prayed enough, God would forgive me of the sins I had committed in my 9 years and not take me, because by this time I was also punishing myself and began cutting, not only as a way to ease the emotional and mental pain, but also to punish myself for my own sin...my wanting to die. Every day my thoughts would be on how I would do it. Usually to blow my brains out all over the music room walls, shag carpet and stone fireplace.
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Then my Grandfather died. He was the one person in the world I knew I could depend on for anything. He was my best friend, he was my everything at nine years old. I couldn't understand how a God that was supposed to be so loving to his children could allow this to happen. How could he let such a good man die? How could he take him from me? I had asked the priest after the funeral these questions. His reply was "He was a sinner, child. God takes the sinners so that we may find Him". I was devastated. How How could this man of the cloth tell me my grandfather was a sinner? So, I asked my grandmother how grandpa was a sinner, so bad that God had to take him to save us? She said because he drank sometimes, he smoked cigars, he taught me how to play poker and chess, and these were tools of Satan. Again, sin.
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I had a very hard time from then on. I did everything I possibly could to not be a sinner, it would kill my maternal Grandmother (who was now caring for me) if I died, which was becoming my only desire. I buried myself in the bible, the supposed word of God. I went to church everyday and prayed all the time. Very seldom was I not praying. I thought, if I prayed enough, God would forgive me of the sins I had committed in my 9 years and not take me, because by this time I was also punishing myself and began cutting, not only as a way to ease the emotional and mental pain, but also to punish myself for my own sin...my wanting to die. Every day my thoughts would be on how I would do it. Usually to blow my brains out all over the music room walls, shag carpet and stone fireplace.
To me, what I had found out was sin was anything that brought pleasure, joy and happiness, outside of prayer and glorifying God, not only what was written in the ten commandments.
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When I reached 13, a good friend of mine from school had come up missing. His body was founds in the quarry, half naked, beaten, tortured and sodomized to death. My cousin had run the local funeral parlor and I had lied to my grandma and told her I was going to see a girlfriend, but went to see my murdered friend at the funeral parlor. I sneaked down to The room. I saw his body laying there. I just wanted to tell him good bye. I saw what was done to him and I screamed, tears streaming and dripping on is poor, frail and mutilated body, at the pain he must have gone through. I cursed at God. How could he let this happen to an innocent little boy? What kind of God was he? What kind of love would allow this to happen? Needless to say, I went into a deep depression for months.
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From that second, I hated God. I could not bear to even hear God mentioned. I would fly into a rage and run if I heard a hymn or prayer. I would leave the room if anyone prayed, cursing god under my breath. Yet I was still forced to go to church. No one consoled me, even once. My eyes were dead and pleading for help, for understanding, as I would shake the preacher's hand on the way out after service. He never even noticed, wouldn't even look at me. I was shunned from everything I ever knew. Everyone looked at me as if what happened to Kevin was my fault. I hated God even more for this.
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When I reached 13, a good friend of mine from school had come up missing. His body was founds in the quarry, half naked, beaten, tortured and sodomized to death. My cousin had run the local funeral parlor and I had lied to my grandma and told her I was going to see a girlfriend, but went to see my murdered friend at the funeral parlor. I sneaked down to The room. I saw his body laying there. I just wanted to tell him good bye. I saw what was done to him and I screamed, tears streaming and dripping on is poor, frail and mutilated body, at the pain he must have gone through. I cursed at God. How could he let this happen to an innocent little boy? What kind of God was he? What kind of love would allow this to happen? Needless to say, I went into a deep depression for months.
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From that second, I hated God. I could not bear to even hear God mentioned. I would fly into a rage and run if I heard a hymn or prayer. I would leave the room if anyone prayed, cursing god under my breath. Yet I was still forced to go to church. No one consoled me, even once. My eyes were dead and pleading for help, for understanding, as I would shake the preacher's hand on the way out after service. He never even noticed, wouldn't even look at me. I was shunned from everything I ever knew. Everyone looked at me as if what happened to Kevin was my fault. I hated God even more for this.
Many years passed, though my hatred for God never did. I went on living life, was married and kept busy with my duties. After After five years of marriage, I had finally been told I was pregnant. I was so happy, but still hated God. Then, when my first born son was put into my arms, I cried. He was perfect. I broke down crying, sobbing, really. I had felt like such a fool. How could I hate a God who gave me this precious life? This perfect little me?
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I climbed off my bed, handed my son to my step-mother (mom),and ran to the window. The full moon was out. It was the most beautiful moon I had ever seen. It was as if God was smiling down on me, sending me his rays of love through her. I begged his forgiveness and vowed to never doubt him again.
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It was shortly after this, that it seemed that all the questions I had had all my life, didn't really matter. Sin didn't matter, doctrines didn't matter, religion didn't matter. All that mattered was my love for god, my love for my son, and my love, finally, for myself. I began to realize, that it wasn't religion where God was, or the church, but within me, all around me, in every single thing that he created. It was like the world suddenly developed color. No more hues of grey, actual colors. Beautiful colors, the scent of the flowers, the grass, even the dirt and stones. I was finally able to recognize and absorb all of the universe's energies flowing all around me and through me. I was alive, and it was by God's grace that I was. I wish everyone to feel god's love as I have come to.
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I haven't doubted God since, and I never will.
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I climbed off my bed, handed my son to my step-mother (mom),and ran to the window. The full moon was out. It was the most beautiful moon I had ever seen. It was as if God was smiling down on me, sending me his rays of love through her. I begged his forgiveness and vowed to never doubt him again.
.
It was shortly after this, that it seemed that all the questions I had had all my life, didn't really matter. Sin didn't matter, doctrines didn't matter, religion didn't matter. All that mattered was my love for god, my love for my son, and my love, finally, for myself. I began to realize, that it wasn't religion where God was, or the church, but within me, all around me, in every single thing that he created. It was like the world suddenly developed color. No more hues of grey, actual colors. Beautiful colors, the scent of the flowers, the grass, even the dirt and stones. I was finally able to recognize and absorb all of the universe's energies flowing all around me and through me. I was alive, and it was by God's grace that I was. I wish everyone to feel god's love as I have come to.
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I haven't doubted God since, and I never will.
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