Monday, February 23, 2015

I believe in God (but it's not what you might think)

I woke up scared out of my mind.  I remember that feeling like it was only yesterday.  Lying in bed afraid to move.  I adjusted only my eyes and looked around the room for any movement -- any indication that there was something there to get me -- steal me away in the night, eat me, devour me, kill me and take me away from my parents for good. 
The trees moved slowly outside rhythmically with the wind and I could swear I saw a shadowy finger brushing up against the window.  I could hear the tapping the finger made against the glass pane and it went right to my spine and seemed to irritate everything in my small system.  Listening and watching I determined that the finger was a branch from a tree, tapping away as the wind moved the tree and everything outside back and then forward. 
It was either that or some cruel beast playing tricks with me -- messing with my head, making my tiny heart race and my insides ache in fear.  Establishing that the windows were devoid of beast or entity, I took the risk of slowly moving my head towards the closet door.  I wasn't sure if I had left the door opened or closed, but either way the menacing entryway and cubby posed a threat. 
Closed the door could easily conceal a monster that would burst out at any moment to cover me in its immense size and darkness.  Open and the monster could be waiting within the recesses of the darkness within, waiting for the right moment to pounce.  Waiting until my guard was down,

I was 5 years old at the time, and this was a typical night in my childhood home.  I had been waking up regularly for days to this unimaginable fear of harm - fear of something supernatural at best that would be there the next time I awoke in darkness, be there to hurt me.  I was determined for a few days to just not fall asleep.  I figured if I remained awake, nothing could sneak up on me while I slept and therefore nothing bad could happen to me,

This particular night I remember praying.   I did not exactly know to who I was praying to, or to what, but I do remember praying.  I asked (god if you will) whatever benevolent presence I felt at the time to please just make the nightmares stop.  I implored the good of the universe to overshadow the evil that I felt was there to harm me.

I called out to the darkness and the emptiness of the great unknown and begged for a moments rest as a small child in my room that night. And to my small imagination and eager little heart I got an answer.

It was subtle at first.  The response I got back from the great unknown was a physiological one.  My body just started to calm down, my breathing slowed, my heart relaxed a bit and the tension in my belly eased.  My mind was still racing, and my eyes continued to scan the room, but I felt the presence of something really good in there with me.  Something strong, clean, and parental.

I closed my eyes and slept like a 5 year old for the first time in days.  The next night I uttered the same words to the same benevolent presence and got the same results.

Now, one could argue that my parents taught me about prayer or that Sunday school had taught me as much.  That paired with a child's immense imagination could have caused me to conjure up these feelings and the peace I felt, just as I had conjured up the feelings of fear and anxiety before.  But to me, in that room for that period of time, "God" became real.

As I grew older I learned to attach labels and names and categories and structures to this god-being. When I was a teenager, someone told me a story about Jesus and I thought that maybe, this good thing that I knew from childhood fit into the context of who Jesus was.

I mean he loved children. he stood up for the marginalized and the minority, and he confronted evils of all sorts.  So, it was just a natural thing for me to accept Christianity as my religion because well I had already experienced the goodness of God to comfort me and to chase away the bad.

Now as an adult, I have tried desperately to shake off those old ideas.  I have learned that maybe my god does not necessarily always fit the molds of Christianity, nor does it fit into most contemporary religions or understandings of God.  Maybe my god is no god at all, but the combined feelings of all on the planet who wish to do us well.  Maybe this comforting presence is a ghost of a family member long since gone from the world who has chosen to watch over me.  Maybe, it really is a god defined as good by most earthly well-intentioned religions.

I tried to be an atheist a few months back and I am sad to say that it didn't work out for me.  See I have a huge amount of respect for atheists.  I think it is because deep down, when I am honest about myself I have troubles reconciling this good god with a world in trouble.   I take issue with the descriptions that religion has constructed for God -- the excuses they have made for god's seemingly uninvolved, unconcerned, or unavailable approach to human suffering.   I take issue with believers who look and sound more like the evil presence I felt in my room than the loving, concerned and caring presence I felt back then and still feel today.

It's embarrassing to say I am Christian at times, knowing full well that others who use that label use it to bash people over the head with their own interpretations of the Bible or their own opinions and judgement about what is right or wrong.  It's a little infuriating to be honest.  I tried to run away from all of it, live in denial, steer clear of hatred in all of it's ugly forms.

More on this later...

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