So today I went to a funeral of someone I'd never met before, it was the obligatory kind of thing, the kind you go to because your boss's father has died and you show up for it or the news in the office the next day will be that so-and-so wasn't at the president's father's service.

It was years since I'd set foot in a church, let alone heard a pastor speak. I pretty consistently berrate myself for my attitude towards Christianity in general...though ironically I've never truly felt the scorn of it in any direct way, nor can I claim the abuse of any of its followers, since I wasn't raised in that or any faith. And yet the bitterness is still there, despite the lack of experience to claim. I can't justify it, and yet I can't fully dismiss it, either. I can only try to keep an open mind, and attempt to understand.

The pastor possibly spoke for five minutes about the deceased...and the rest of the time about Christ, and God, and how we need to let them into our hearts. Their was a moment in time where the pastor asked all present who hadn't turned their lives over to Jesus to take a moment and pray with him. I simply sat there...looking at mostly everyone else with their eyes closed...waiting for something dramatic to happen, either some profound, divinely inspiration to come upon me and "save" me, or a sharp thunderbolt to come down and strike me dead for my heathen ways. Nothing happened. And sitting there, listening to the pastor going on and on about all of this, I honestly felt like he was trying to sell me a car, or something of the like.

"Father" this, and "Father" that. "Father will save you." "Father is there for you." "Father loves you." And I found myself thinking...if there is a heavenly father in Christianity, and what a lovely idea that is, why, for logic's sake, is there no heavenly mother? Don't fathers and mothers go together? Isn't that the "natural" order of things, and why so many Christians condemn homosexuals? Or has God, like so many people these days, been a single parent all along? I can't quite wrap my head around this, myself.

I don't see any balance here. And none of it honestly "clicks" for me. I believe what I believe not because I have "faith," and I've had to "overcome sin" or I've had to "give my heart to Jesus," but simply because I've experienced it firsthand. And even though I believe what I've seen, I ironically spend a lot of time avoiding it. I avoid the outdoors because of the memories it triggers, I avoid the sound of wind because of the words it evokes...I avoid corn around this time of year because of the bloodlust that runs over me, it being harvest time and all...I avoid it, because I know that it is true, and this truth, the purest, most base kind of truth...it burns, it truly burns inside of me, and I'm not sure If I'm not ready entirely for that yet, but that doesn't mean that I deny it.

My beliefs are simply what the world has shown itself to be to me, and I have no book in front of me. It changes everyday. I didn't choose to "give my heart" over to anything...it was honestly there the entire time, and my every footstep has been a progression on my path, with me kicking and screaming the entire time that I've walked it, and probably will be for quite a while. It's not just what I believe, it simply is what is, at least in the world that I inhabit, through my own personal looking glass.

Do I think that Christians are wrong? No, I can't say that. I've read scripture and have been moved, I've been inside ancient cathedrals before and have felt presences that in many ways have yet to have anything else rival them since. I think that there is a spirit within any faith that gives it substance, and gives it at least some validity, or it wouldn't exist at all---but ultimately--the words are simply words, the stories are simply stories, and everything between spoken and written word is essentially hollow outside of the bounds of personal, firsthand experience. If you haven't walked it yourself---I frankly would be very leary to take it for gospel. And if anyone tries to sell you a car to get there--I'd turn them down. Walking upon your own path, instead of jumping on the popular bandwagon, I find is much more...real. Personally, I like the feeling of dirt between my toes...it reminds me that I am alive, of where I love, and where I breathe, and of where..I am, and of simply, what is.

 

I'm going to be taking a long break from covenspace. If you need to get a hold of me, my email is jshedaker@gmail.com.