It's been a few years since I last posted. And since I no longer have my paid blog site, it's back to the free. Hopefully someone still follows, but whatever the case it's time for me to speak up.
All those carefully curated posts previously on this blog? Lies, showing a happy, godly family with all the answers and a whole ocean's worth of arrogance and pride.
In reality? It was a life full of darkness and despair, clawing at what I thought was righteousness and love and good. Never meeting those high standards. Never measuring up. Never good enough.
And yet, still too much. Too many questions. Too much compassion. Too much refusing to be happy with blind acceptance of whatever was taught from the pulpit.
I hungered for truth. I didn't find it there.
The first crack in the wall of brainwashing came when Pastor Darwin and his wife Eunice came to ostensibly bring comfort after I had suffered a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, and nearly lost my life in the process. Full of wonder, I shared with them that I was being wheeled to surgery (to have an abortion, no less) I felt no fear. Knowing I'd lost enough blood that I didn't have a readable blood pressure, and that meant I wasn't far from death's door. Knowing I might not be wheeled back alive. I had only the song running through my head "Face to face oh blissful moment! Face to face, to see and know. Face to face with my Redeemer." I found no fear, only a strong, steady comfort.
Eunice interupted, not even allowing me to finish sharing that moment. I don't recall the exact words anymore, but in my heart it felt like a hammer blow. How dare I be ok with dying! I had a husband and children to take care of. How dare I consider leaving them! She flounced up from her seat, and they soon left.
As I stared out into the stars that night, tears rolling down my cheeks, I considered. The Bible made it abundantly clear that to be with Christ was gain. It was not something to feared, nor sought out, but held gently, with peace and strength, for the right time. I hadn't been asking to die, or even wanting it in that moment. I'd been content to allow whatever was ordained for me to come to pass. The peace shocked me, and I wanted to share the moment of feeling, for once, I was where I was supposed to be.
If the leading couple of the church couldn't get something as obvious as the peaceful, even joyous, view of finally resting in the arms of Jesus correct, what else might they be misinterpreting? I began to question. To dig. To face up to the things I had never allowed myself to question in my quest for belonging and love. But truth meant more to me than being accepted. And that started a lengthy, rocky journey that is still in progress today.
That journey meant facing up to abuse rampant in religion. The way religion was used to control and coerce and harm the helpless, when power meant more to those in control than following their own scripture. It meant facing up to the glaring inconsistencies in the Bible.
And for me, personally? It meant divorcing my abuser. It meant leaving the church in order to be free to do as religion had taught me so well but failed to live up to... to be kind and compassionate and loving, to care for the weak and helpless and lift them up. In the coming days I will tell parts of my story. I will be naming names. I will be telling truths and asking questions that are uncomfortable. I ask you to sit with them. Take a deep breath. And see if there is any nugget of truth that speaks to your heart. I never ask to be taken at face value. Seek truth. Ask questions. But accept that my story is my own, and while I may have taken a different path it is the right one for me.
