A Story of Leaving, In Parts (This is Part One)

I've spent a lot of time thinking about this post. I've drafted many, many versions of this post. I've let them sit in a queue, untouched and unpublished, for about three years now.

For many who follow me on social media, the writing may have already been on the (proverbial Facebook) wall.

I find myself in a place where subtlety no longer has any value or benefit to my faith system, so here goes nothing.

About three years ago, I made the conscious decision to leave the church.
Or rather, I have wholeheartedly and unabashedly rejected the institution of the church.

And now for the tipping point that finds me here, now, writing this: I find myself backed into a corner by the systemic patriarchal oppression reinforced by this maddening institution, and I am...well, I'm fucking tired of it.

So--let's burn it all down, shall we?

I don't want anyone to get it twisted: I believe in God(dess). I believe in the universe. I believe in angels and guides. I believe in the Earth. I believe in Spirit. I believe in energy. I believe in intuition. I believe in crystals and tarot and meditation. I believe that Jesus was one cool-as-hell dude and had things to say that were important, radical, groundbreaking, and worth a listen.

But Christianity, with a capital C? Especially that of the evangelical variety? You can keep it, because I don't want it.

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Aside from my current predicament--which I will address in an additional post because the level of WTF requires it--the dominoes of deconstruction have been falling pretty hard and fast since 2016:

Shortly after the 2016 election, a member of my church sent me a private message on Facebook messenger in response to a post questioning how I'm supposed to explain to my daughter that a man who boasts about grabbing women by the pussy and had raped one of his wives was now the President of the United States: "Don't worry! At least Mike Pence is our Vice President. He'll stand for good Christian values. Trump probably won't even make it all four years and then Pence will be President" (this is a paraphrase, but the general idea intact--totes cool, v. Christian).

I was absolutely horrified at the lack of self-awareness that this woman was demonstrating by allowing the most un-Christian president ever a pass, simply because his number two was a devout conservative Christian.

It was, dear reader, not a good look.

Christian values can be bought for a price. Whatever it takes. Just look the other way. Hold your nose, it makes it easier to accept.

Jesus wept.

The constant barrage of thinly-veiled hate, oppression, fear-mongering, and downright misinformation I see being shared by Christian friends and family is mind-blowing. The outright dismissal of basic human rights, equality, decency, science, and reason because of selective interpretation of a book written thousands of years ago by fallible men? It knocks the wind out of me.

The blind allegiance to Donald Trump is akin to idolatry, and the hypocrisy makes my skin crawl. Donald Trump. This man. A racist, homophobic misogynist. In the people's house. And my conservative Christian acquaintances foam at the mouths with glee about everything they think he stands for. Except...he doesn't stand for them. He doesn't stand for America. He stands for himself, and himself alone.

He feeds off fear and hate.
The most powerful man in the world.
And they love him, worship him.

Jesus weeps.

And at the earliest stages of separation from my now ex-husband, after admitting to them that he had been emotionally and verbally abusive toward me, several members of the women's group I was a part of had this advice for me: pray for him. Pray for myself.

Take a critical look at MYSELF because perhaps there was something I was doing wrong. Perhaps I could find ways to be a better wife to my husband, and maybe he wouldn't do awful things like call me fat, lazy, or hack into one of my electronic devices and proceed to harass and threaten my friend and neighbor (I know you're thinking that is oddly specific, but yes--I watched him send Facebook messages from my account using my Kindle at home--watched from my phone, while I was at church).

You wanna know what I did?

I fasted. I prayed. I cried and sang worship music and begged and pleaded with God on my way to work every day for nearly a month. Was it me? Was I so broken that I would drive the person who exchanged wedding vows with me before God to treat me so badly?

You wanna know what my ex did? Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.

And at the end of it all, we got our divorce.

But on that day, I like to think Jesus smiled. And I celebrate that day, every day, as the first step in breaking so many different types of bondage and finding wholeness.

Except this wholeness didn't come from surrendering at all costs and shrugging my shoulders when things didn't go the way I wanted them to because, "It wasn't on God's timing."

This was wholeness that allowed me to see that I was not, in fact, broken.
This was wholeness that looked a lot like self-determined worth and value.
This was wholeness that was mine alone, grasped at and formed through my own agency.

Wholeness without crutches or caveats.
Wholeness without shame.
Beauty without the ashes.

Jesus smiles.

[Part two can be found-->here.]