Still Here

The church basement is dark.  The nursery school teacher asks if there are any questions.  My three year old hand shoots up.  She calls on me.  I might be the only one with my hand up.  My question is sincere and simple.  Why are you round like a planet?  The teacher has no verbal response.  She leaves the room as her assistant takes the helm.  I know something’s wrong with my question.  Still I’m disappointed to not have an answer.

Give it all to Jesus is the sermon du jour.  I find Jesus a bit grabby.  I have a blue toy iron, a doll with one eye missing and a few worn out toys.  Jesus needs these things? I barely want them.

The duet this Sunday is a bit gory.

Eat His body.

Drink His blood.

And we'll sing a song of love.

Hallelu

Hallelu

Hallelu

Hallelujah!

Ick. The lilting happy melody doesn't match the macabre lyrics.

Movie night leaves me scarred and sleepless.  The Battle of Armageddon. Houses on fire next to a lake on fire and the world crumbling around us. I ask my mom over and over again through tears in the wee hours of the morning why God wanted to burn our house down. Even the water is on fire in the movie so that won't help me put the fire out if I use my plastic bucket which I will hang on to despite the "give it all to Jesus" pulpit plea.

There's no time to change your mind. The Son has come and you've been left behind. The threatening lyrics stay in my mind as fresh as a daisy. The church movie portrays a young girl just like me who doesn’t make the Rapture. She blows it. And if we blow it, we will face unspeakable horrors that are spoken of more than any hot topic.

Africa is always calling. Preachers tell us that maybe God wants us Africa bound as missionaries. Hey, young college bound girl! Guess what? God might send you to Africa with your new preacher, pastor husband to serve God and evangelize whether you like it or not. Stop studying for those SATs and start packing!

The list gets really long for teenagers. Don’t be unequally yoked. Only date church guys.  Save yourself for marriage. No dancing. No parties. No inappropriate movies. The big story on repeat is told ad nauseum about a teen who didn’t submit to God and on the way home from church, wraps his car around a telephone pole. Could that be the start of my intermittent fear of driving?

Meeting your mate on a pew is like meeting someone in an emergency room. Both venues attract desperate bodies and souls who are often in pain. If life gets hairy as your vices begin ruining your life, head to the nearest church or wait a little longer and you’ll find yourself in the emergency room. Unsuspecting christian girls sitting in pews are vulnerable. Maybe this is God's Will for your life. Maybe. Maybe not. Not!

Years go by and I am driving my forest green mini-van with two sleeping babies safely strapped into their car seats. I’m on the highway on a beautiful Spring morning and I find myself talking to God.  Is it a prayer? No.  Is it a moment of gratitude? No.  It is a jeer.  Unfathomable!! Deacon’s daughter, Thumb-Through-

The-Bible Champion. Life long church goer. 

“You can’t get me now”.

Who talks like that? And to God? You’re on the HIGHWAY!  What nerve!!

“You can’t get me now” was the phrase that changed my life. This is how I saw the God I was raised to trust. The God that was all knowing. The God that conquered death.  He was after me from day one. But why? What did I do?  Any goodness or faithfulness was never up to par. And the Rapture, Armageddon and God’s wrath were hunting me down.

So my two little babies were my protection. He wouldn’t hurt them. They’re babies. They might grow up to give it all, heed the call, head to Africa, yada yada yada.

Since they were safe from his wrath. by proxy, as the driver I was safe for the moment. Safe and living on a prayer that sounded more like a jeer.

The conversation continued.  In tears, drivable tears, I talked to God from parkway to bridge to connector to interstate.  I declared a truce.   I will reread and re-learn and unlearn until I see God in a new light.  I had nothing to lose. 

The woman at the well is the first place I start. I reread it with compassion, understanding and love. I no longer comprehend it as a “gotcha” story of judgment.

I bask in the beautiful, poetic scriptures that soothe, calm and point to a loving, kind, benevolent Heavenly Father. God becomes Godlike.  Love becomes lovely.

Tough love becomes adults bullying adults.  Please stop calling it love.  Call it controlling through fear, intimidation and ultimatums.  STOP being so mean in the name of God and Love. Please!!!  Love is a superior teacher. Love is more effective than fear.

Give it all to Jesus means something new.  I give back all the misconceptions, the harsh teachings, the fear tactics, the messages of unworthiness, the mistakes the teachers and the preachers make. They are only human. I forgive them for they know not what they do.

Mass on Sunday is solemn. No music. Nothing like the casual church I recall.  I’m here with a close friend who suffered a loss. She is like a sister to me. Robes are pristine. The faithful genuflect, kneel, recite and repent. I just sit and stand in stillness, fixated on the beautiful stained glass windows diffusing the light of the setting sun.  My ear bends to any straight from the scripture scripture. I also keep my heart and mind open to any sound, practical, love infused teachings.

I feel like an outsider since I did not go through the rites of passage for this body of believers. But I know the truth and it did as promised. The truth set me free.

I’m still here.  You’re still here. I am healing.  I hope you heal too.