Deconstructing My Religion (Introduction)

Why I am fairly certain that I NOT a Christian

THE UNRAVELLING

Imagine that I stand before you, my arms crossed protectively across my chest as I try to hide a faded sweater, thin and worn with age. I’m embarrassed by the way it no longer covers me. Yet I do not discard the old thing because it is all I have. The pieces of it are familiar and comforting despite its inability to provide the protection I desire.

It is a garment I began unintentionally unraveling a lifetime ago. Pulling at the threads of yarn and watching them fray beneath my fingers has been a methodical dismantling of something familiar, the process both fascinating and alarming. For years, it was only the edges of this covering that were destroyed. I could hide the unraveling so that no one noticed. Then, in one, pivotal, horrifying day this allegorical “sweater” was ripped open right at the heart. It was then I understood that the garment could never be saved.

THE INCIDENT

I awoke with a start.

Terrified at the intensity of what I had just experienced in my dreams, I lay in bed listening to my heart pounding in my chest and praying to go back to sleep and dream differently. It was the most horrible dream I had ever experienced.

Around 2 am, as I was finally drifting back to sleep, the phone rang and I sprang from the bed to answer it. My ex-husband, called to tell me that our son had been shot in the head, was on life-support, and there was no hope for his survival.

What had awakened me before the call was not a dream, but a supernatural experience that transported me to my son’s side in the final moments of his life. Only later, as the details of his death emerged did I understand that I was there (in spirit) when it happened, a phenomenon I might not believe if I hadn’t experienced it.

MOVING FORWARD

I have decided to spread wide my arms and expose what lies beneath, both the blessing and the curse of my religious upbringing. This unraveling will leave me naked and exposed.

How does one share their hurt without projecting victimization or blaming those whose mistakes impacted one’s life so adversely? I’m not sure, but I hope to figure it out, for that is not my goal. I hope to share my story with a measure of grace not only for myself, but also for those whose lives have intersected with mine.

(Photo courtesy of Pixaby)