Watch Me (Walk Away)
I called to have myself removed from the membership rolls of my former church yesterday. I haven't gone there in years and I obviously don't feel aligned with the church anymore so it was probably just as well to cut the tie. But, thing that sort of added a sense of urgency for me is that they had recently given an arguably anti-trans sermon and appear to be poised to have a homophobic seminar next weekend. The sermon said things that can clearly be seen as hurtful and they don't seem apologetic. It could have been worse. On a scale of 1 to Westboro Baptist Church, I'd give it a 6.5 or a 7. I suspect next weekend's talk will be considerably worse going by who the speaker is and seeing the way they've advertised it. So, I just don't want that association to them anymore.
On one hand, it wasn't a huge deal. I haven't set foot on the campus in probably 9 years. It's a church I was probably a little too quick to join in the first place. When I first moved to this town, I didn't know a soul. This church felt really similar to the church I had just left, so it was something that felt familiar at a point I was fairly lonely. Plus, I was almost afraid to not have a church for very long because of the depression I'd experienced in college (which at the time, I had partially attributed to having no church but I think it was more than that). I was afraid of doing anything that might send me back to that place I had just healed from. The good news is, it totally felt very similar to my old church. The bad news is, it totally felt very similar to my old church. It took very little time for me to start experiencing the same frustrations I'd had at the church I had just left and I wasn't invested in this church like I was the old one. Plus, it was my 3rd time at that rodeo and I was just fed up so I gave up very quickly and never looked back.
On the other hand, this is the first time since I was probably around 7 years old that I haven't been a member of a church. I can't remember exactly how old I was, but I know I had just started swimming lessons (where I had been learning to take a deep breath and blow bubbles underwater) because I remember the pastor laughing because I had taken a comically loud deep breath right before he dunked me under the water at my baptism.
To a non-Baptist it likely sounds a little nuts (and it kind of was). I didn't know how to write cursive yet and barely was starting to learn multiplication tables. But, I was making choices about my long term religious life. And I did this because at the same time I was learning to read and that yellow and blue make green, I was also being steadily told early and often that one day I would die (and it could be at any moment. Why it could be now. Or now! How bout now? Why don't we sit here and list out all of the many and varied ways we can think of you could be killed unexpectedly at any time?). This was further re-enforced by the fact that I'd had a sibling killed in an accident before I was born and I was regularly reminded by family members that I looked just like him and that he had died. I had to walk by his picture to leave my home every day. I remember leaving the house to go ride my bike and my visiting grandmother telling me to be careful because my brother had been killed (as if I had somehow forgotten). There were these two different sets of pictures of two families of four. The happy, innocent ones with him and the tired, slightly more stone faced ones with me. The poses and positions were the same except my older brother was a little taller in the ones with me. I was literally born into a grieving family, and my nursery was the room that had been my deceased brother's. I was never not well aware of my mortality. But, at any rate I was told that I could die at any time and if I hadn't joined the church by that time and really meant it, I would spend all of eternity being tortured in Hell. I was too young to watch a James Bond movie or Ferris Beuller's day off because I wasn't emotionally mature enough for that content. But, I was totally old enough to be constantly told I could going to die at any time.
Then the other fun part is the way Baptist churches get people to join (or at least small ones in the 1980's). You arrive at church for Sunday School at something like 9 or 9:30am. Then the main service started at 10:45. Then the sermon ends around noon. (so, by the end of the church service, you've been there all morning...sitting). At the end of the service, the pastor would stand down front and have everyone bow their heads. Then he would have the music pastor lead the congregation in singing some song (frequently "Just as I am") over and over and over until either someone joined, rededicated their lives to Jesus, or until the pastor decided we had suffered long enough. A younger pastor might call it in three or four "Just as I am"s. And older, crankier one might make you sit there through 5 or 6. But someone joining the church could end it in 1 or 2 "Just as I am"s. And nobody could go home and nobody could go eat lunch until one of those two things happened. My sister-in-law once told a story about how she and her friends had an agreement to take turns re-dedicating their lives to Jesus at a church camp so everyone else could go eat. Car salesmen have nothing on these people when it comes to high pressure sales. I mean, I went back and re-evaluated my relationship with God later in my teens and it was a more measured and genuine choice. But at 7, I wanted "fire insurance" and I wanted the church service to end. Don't tell my parents. haha. Speaking of my parents... To be fair to them, while I was well aware of my mortality, I would imagine they were as well. After losing my middle brother, they were going to be for darn sure that my older brother's souls were taken care of before we died which is why they put us through this. They believed they were doing what was best for us.
It's a little odd not being a member of a church. I mean, I haven't actually GONE to church much for large portions of my adult life, but I was always a member somewhere or other. At this moment in time, it's almost freeing and a relief. I don't have someone ostensibly speaking for me. I don't have a church covenant I have to follow or feel guilty about ignoring. My beliefs are my own.
I think it will likely be awhile before I join another one. Partially because I'm not incredibly eager to commit to another one given my past experiences. Partially because I enjoy the church I'm attending now and think the people are great. But, I don't actually believe large swaths of what they teach about Christianity itself. Plus, the idea of joining another church right now makes me incredibly uncomfortable. I hear members talk about having committee meetings on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and something else on Saturday in addition to Sunday and it makes me start to feel trapped and anxious. It makes them happy and it's what makes that church run and I think that's great. But, I just can't go back to that. It stresses me out just thinking about it.
I think eventually something may need to change. And eventually I may want or need to go to a church that swings a little more towards the middle maybe. (or maybe not...I don't want to jump back into the same problems and heartache I just left and my friends and therapist have spent all this time lovingly trying to help me recover from). So, I dunno. But for now, I feel like Huck Finn floating on his raft and it's kind of nice. I think I'll do this for awhile.
(song reference)
On one hand, it wasn't a huge deal. I haven't set foot on the campus in probably 9 years. It's a church I was probably a little too quick to join in the first place. When I first moved to this town, I didn't know a soul. This church felt really similar to the church I had just left, so it was something that felt familiar at a point I was fairly lonely. Plus, I was almost afraid to not have a church for very long because of the depression I'd experienced in college (which at the time, I had partially attributed to having no church but I think it was more than that). I was afraid of doing anything that might send me back to that place I had just healed from. The good news is, it totally felt very similar to my old church. The bad news is, it totally felt very similar to my old church. It took very little time for me to start experiencing the same frustrations I'd had at the church I had just left and I wasn't invested in this church like I was the old one. Plus, it was my 3rd time at that rodeo and I was just fed up so I gave up very quickly and never looked back.
On the other hand, this is the first time since I was probably around 7 years old that I haven't been a member of a church. I can't remember exactly how old I was, but I know I had just started swimming lessons (where I had been learning to take a deep breath and blow bubbles underwater) because I remember the pastor laughing because I had taken a comically loud deep breath right before he dunked me under the water at my baptism.
To a non-Baptist it likely sounds a little nuts (and it kind of was). I didn't know how to write cursive yet and barely was starting to learn multiplication tables. But, I was making choices about my long term religious life. And I did this because at the same time I was learning to read and that yellow and blue make green, I was also being steadily told early and often that one day I would die (and it could be at any moment. Why it could be now. Or now! How bout now? Why don't we sit here and list out all of the many and varied ways we can think of you could be killed unexpectedly at any time?). This was further re-enforced by the fact that I'd had a sibling killed in an accident before I was born and I was regularly reminded by family members that I looked just like him and that he had died. I had to walk by his picture to leave my home every day. I remember leaving the house to go ride my bike and my visiting grandmother telling me to be careful because my brother had been killed (as if I had somehow forgotten). There were these two different sets of pictures of two families of four. The happy, innocent ones with him and the tired, slightly more stone faced ones with me. The poses and positions were the same except my older brother was a little taller in the ones with me. I was literally born into a grieving family, and my nursery was the room that had been my deceased brother's. I was never not well aware of my mortality. But, at any rate I was told that I could die at any time and if I hadn't joined the church by that time and really meant it, I would spend all of eternity being tortured in Hell. I was too young to watch a James Bond movie or Ferris Beuller's day off because I wasn't emotionally mature enough for that content. But, I was totally old enough to be constantly told I could going to die at any time.
Then the other fun part is the way Baptist churches get people to join (or at least small ones in the 1980's). You arrive at church for Sunday School at something like 9 or 9:30am. Then the main service started at 10:45. Then the sermon ends around noon. (so, by the end of the church service, you've been there all morning...sitting). At the end of the service, the pastor would stand down front and have everyone bow their heads. Then he would have the music pastor lead the congregation in singing some song (frequently "Just as I am") over and over and over until either someone joined, rededicated their lives to Jesus, or until the pastor decided we had suffered long enough. A younger pastor might call it in three or four "Just as I am"s. And older, crankier one might make you sit there through 5 or 6. But someone joining the church could end it in 1 or 2 "Just as I am"s. And nobody could go home and nobody could go eat lunch until one of those two things happened. My sister-in-law once told a story about how she and her friends had an agreement to take turns re-dedicating their lives to Jesus at a church camp so everyone else could go eat. Car salesmen have nothing on these people when it comes to high pressure sales. I mean, I went back and re-evaluated my relationship with God later in my teens and it was a more measured and genuine choice. But at 7, I wanted "fire insurance" and I wanted the church service to end. Don't tell my parents. haha. Speaking of my parents... To be fair to them, while I was well aware of my mortality, I would imagine they were as well. After losing my middle brother, they were going to be for darn sure that my older brother's souls were taken care of before we died which is why they put us through this. They believed they were doing what was best for us.
It's a little odd not being a member of a church. I mean, I haven't actually GONE to church much for large portions of my adult life, but I was always a member somewhere or other. At this moment in time, it's almost freeing and a relief. I don't have someone ostensibly speaking for me. I don't have a church covenant I have to follow or feel guilty about ignoring. My beliefs are my own.
I think it will likely be awhile before I join another one. Partially because I'm not incredibly eager to commit to another one given my past experiences. Partially because I enjoy the church I'm attending now and think the people are great. But, I don't actually believe large swaths of what they teach about Christianity itself. Plus, the idea of joining another church right now makes me incredibly uncomfortable. I hear members talk about having committee meetings on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and something else on Saturday in addition to Sunday and it makes me start to feel trapped and anxious. It makes them happy and it's what makes that church run and I think that's great. But, I just can't go back to that. It stresses me out just thinking about it.
I think eventually something may need to change. And eventually I may want or need to go to a church that swings a little more towards the middle maybe. (or maybe not...I don't want to jump back into the same problems and heartache I just left and my friends and therapist have spent all this time lovingly trying to help me recover from). So, I dunno. But for now, I feel like Huck Finn floating on his raft and it's kind of nice. I think I'll do this for awhile.
(song reference)
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