Honesty

Jonathan Steingard – you were honest, and with your honesty I finally felt free to speak my truth.

I look back at entries I made in here as a teenager and young adult – oh my desperate plea with myself to believe in a God that I wasn’t sure was real. To follow the footsteps of my family and fulfill the expectations set upon me. It’s hard when from a young age you question what you’re being taught, and even harder when your whole family are ministers. What was wrong with me? Why didn’t I feel the way they did? Why didn’t it feel right? I so desperately wanted it to.

Regularly, there was pressure to accept Jesus into my heart. But what did that mean? These Bible stories all felt so dramatic and fictitious. Like there was truth hidden behind the drama. What was the real truth?  Cousin after cousin (and there are a lot of them), church friend after church friend, all making that walk down that aisle to stand in front of the congregation and declare their love for the Alpha and Omega. Except me. I hesitated, always. I wanted to, because I knew it would make my family happy, but I didn’t want to because it wouldn’t make me happy. It made me so uncomfortable thinking about declaring something I just wasn’t sure of.

Then came the ultimate guilt. The expulsion of my membership to my family. My parents were joining a new church, doing all the leadership things they do. They had integrated themselves in already and now it was time to do the walk down the aisle to declare their new committed membership to THIS church. (I mean, if that doesn’t raise flags I’m not sure what will.) I wasn’t allowed to come. Though still a child, this was their opportunity to make me feel like an outsider. They said because I didn’t have Jesus in my heart I couldn’t join the church and I would have to stay behind in the pew alone. What culture feels this is the right thing to say to a child? A shy, sensitive, quiet child who is fearful of being alone. So I chased after them and I made a declaration that I still wasn’t sure of. Now, a whole new level of expectation set upon my little shoulders. Now, I had to ACT like the believer they wanted me to be.

…and so I did. Very well, in fact. I got serious about it. I made this declaration, I was loved and praised for finally coming to their same conclusion, so I gave it all I had. I studied the Bible through and through, I joined all of the groups I could, I discussed with others in depth, I read read read so many books in support. There were only a couple of people in my world I was honest with. Trusted friends who also had questions. But even they didn’t really know the extent of it. We went through all the questions and bargaining tools: well it’s not God, it’s the church, it’s this denomination, it’s these types of Christians, on and on. But it wasn’t entirely any of those things, it was God. Who is He really?

Then I grew up. Moved out. Stood on my own two feet and got to choose who I surrounded myself with. I found my own church, away from my family, to continue to go to while I worked out how I really felt. What I really believed. The more time and distance away, the more and more I just couldn’t do it. It was my life. My choices. I didn’t want to pretend forever that I was something, and believed something, I just didn’t.

Honesty didn’t come with my new feelings of freedom, though. I stopped going to church, I stopped reading the Bible, and doing all the things, but I held conversation with my family like I was still completely on the same page. With them, I was who they wanted, with the people who knew the real me, I was free. Over  the years I’ve made my feelings a little more apparent but have never blatantly expressed my disbelief in God as they know him. I’m sure they assume, considering my husband and I don’t attend a church or take our child. I’ve only had a couple of open honest conversation with two cousins over the years, and one of them was only because I commented on John Steingard’s public declaration denouncing his belief in God. Every single word that came out of his mouth in his explanation was also my truth. Never had there been a moment when I felt more seen on this topic. So of course I commented. Yes! Thank you! I feel justified in my feelings and beliefs now. But of course I should have known, since he was the lead singer of a Christian Rock band, that of course many of my cousins loved, that someone in my family would see it. We had a brief conversation, she expressed she understood where I was coming from and loved me no matter our differences. Maybe that’s true, maybe it’s not, either way it was freeing. (The other cousin and I are on the same page, we are very close and have leaned on each other many times when facing hard conversations with our family.)

Over the years, as I’ve digested my upbringing and the belief system that was instilled in me, I’ve struggled in other ways. I find myself having second nature reactions to things because that’s how I was supposed to handle it growing up. I’ve also found myself often identifying with people who have come out of religious cults. The really intense ones in the middle of nowhere that usually end up a documentary. Though my upbringing was (is) considered far more traditional in the Christian community, and would not end up on a documentary by any means, I still view it just as that: a cult. Some things I’ve shared with my spouse and close friends over the years has raised flags for them as well. Revivals in my adolescence hold a lot of discomfort for me. I’m at peace with my decision. I’ll never say there isn’t some form of higher power, I strongly believe in a spiritual world, but as far as the God in the Bible that I read growing up? Probably not anything like that.

And if I’m wrong, I accept those consequences, whatever they may be. I am free.