Tears

I was born and christened a Catholic. My mom, however was Protestant, but the two got along. They'd teach us as kids how to pray, and about Jesus and God and the Devil. We were never strongly religious, though, only going to church every once in a while. However, I had a God who loved me, who COULD answer prayers (occasionally), and who watched over me and was forgiving.

We’d go to church, Catholic or other sometimes, and every time I went I didn’t feel bored, but spiritual. So I’d lived within this nominal Christianity for most of my life, never doubting or uncomfortable with it. If I wanted an A on the test, I’d pray to God for strength or whatever, I prayed for people to get well, etc.

Suddenly, around the age of 17 or 18, I began to become more deeply spiritual. I searched for it in many sources- Zen Buddhism, meditation, Catholicism, even a little Jewish Kabbalah. The pinnacle of the experience, which brought me to tears of joy, was the togetherness that the Pope seemed to bring when he visited St. Louis, near where I live. I watched the coverage all day. My conclusion was that God loved humanity; Jesus, Buddha, the pope, Muhammad (believe it or not!), Mother Teresa, and their kind were sent by Him to better us, to teach us to love, etc. That’s when I stumbled upon Pentecostalism.

Soon I was “saved”. I had a hunger for God like never before. I loved the openness, the apparent love, the joy and ecstasy of the services, and I began to read the Bible every day. And it goes on and on....

The summer of 2000 really was the turning point, though. My New Year’s resolution was to get closer to God, and it seemed to happen. I looked at that summer as being “In the Lord’s schoolhouse”. I continued my praying, my Bible reading, and all of that. I began attending other nearby churches to find a true “spirit-filled church”. I looked at opinions all over the world-wide web on God, from very staunch, conservative, Bible-thumping sites to Universalistic Unitarian ones (guess which church I considered “false, and of the devil”.) Also I began denouncing everything, calling it all evil, and I’d often fight with myself about things like whether I should tell Dad that he was in a false, Satanic, idolatrous, evil Catholic religion. Yet I felt that I had a purpose, and God was preparing me for something big. I didn’t know how right I was until...

August 22. That night, I’d been reading the Bible, when I stumbled across a verse near the end of the New Testament, something that basically said I wasn’t really saved and I was going to Hell. It didn’t affect me at first, but I found myself sleepless and on the Net looking for an explanation. I went to my first day of my sophomore year in college shaking, only able to think about that horrible verse and hell and all that.

I could not concentrate on anything at all! But the instant I got home, I found myself screaming and crying, “I don’t WANT to go to Hell!!!” I was wailing like a wounded puppy! Trying to release it all. I cried to Jesus, “Save me Jesus!!! SAAAAAVEE MEEEE!!!” But to no avail. I couldn’t enjoy ANYTHING anymore. Survivor was on, and I’d scream at Richard on the TV, “SODOMITE!!! PERVERT!!!” Crying again, I went up to my room. “WHY??!!!!” Tears poured down my face like on the day I thought I was “saved”, only NOT in joy, but in fear. I called Christian friends up; I went to ministers for counseling, but to no avail. Temporary relief only. Maybe the Devil was trying to hit me with all he had, maybe God was, as one guy put it, “giving me a spiritual kick in the butt”. But the fear and pain would not go away.

For over a week it continued. But I couldn’t let it go on. Near the end of the horror, I tried one approach: surrender to God. I believed that the lack of hunger and libido and will to live was me truly being “saved”, once and for all, and I decided from then on, only to serve others and love God. I was a stone’s throw from getting rid of my CD’s and I took down my Sports Illustrated swimsuit calendar- that horrible, raunchy thing!!! Yet the tears and pain continued to escalate.

It was finally time for Phase 2: atheism. I took down my Christian memorabilia, put up the calendar, and looked at porn like crazy. I looked up atheist websites; by the way, former Christian Dan Barker was an amazing help. Loud music boomed through the walls of my room, and for the first time, I was eating again, I was happy.

It was by no means instant, however. I had to get my atheist “shot in the arm”every once in a while, books and websites by people who denounced the idea of a biblical, fundy God, contradictions in the Bible, the effect that the “will of God” had on history, lives, etc- witch hunts, slavery, KKK, the Inquisition, Muslims vs. Jews in Palestine today, and the list continues.

Within a week I was “cured”. I felt better, no longer crying, actually working on my schoolwork, and trying again to enjoy life. In sculpture class, I designed a piece that illustrated my sheer spiritual joy and ecstasy that was experienced in the Pentecostal church, which helped me somehow deal with it. There were still side effects, like the fear of death, a month of hypochondria (I was fully convinced I had cancer or MS, and some of those frustrated tears came back). That soon went away.

At this point, I’m not sure I’m even an atheist. I actually don’t really care! But I do believe that there may be something behind it all, a spirituality embraced by all religions in some respect. Maybe I’ll try meditation again. Maybe I’ll pray again. Maybe I’ll become a Bible-thumping fundy or a Muslim. Or perhaps, I’ll just exist as I am. I don’t believe the struggle is over yet, and it may just come back to me in spades. I’ll get over it.

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