Up until August of 2013, I spent my life in church, only missing occasionally. I’ve heard thousands of messages, sung hundreds of “Christian” songs, worked through dozens of Bible studies, and checked all the boxes. I know theology that would bore you to sleep. I can sing hymns in my sleep. I know all the Sunday-school answers. Somehow, after all that, I still suck at being a Christian.
It’s supposed to be as simple as loving God and loving others, right? Maybe it is. But when your image of God is all convoluted with the experiences of your father, the man who condescendingly told you there’s something wrong with you, it’s hard to love Him. And when you believe there’s something wrong with you, when those words play over and over and over in your head, it’s hard to love yourself, and in turn, love others.
I weigh every decision on the scale of right and wrong, trying desperately to figure out the right thing, i.e., the “Christian” thing to do, and it has become absolutely exhausting. I’m always listening for that still, small voice to guide me, but mostly, I stay paralyzed. And the times I actually do make decisions, I end up second-guessing myself. I am weary of it.
It seems life would be more peaceful and enjoyable if I could believe there is no God, if I could just live without the constant tension of Christianity. But even my damn fundamental roots won’t let me believe there’s no God. So I stick with the process of recovering from all the spiritual abuse and manipulation.
I’ve clung to God through brokenness. I’ve hoped to gain peace through submission. I’ve persevered, and I’ve given up — because both are part of being a Christian, right? But this paradox of the Christian life has had me walking a tightrope for most of my 38 years. I want to jump off . . . to be free, but fear keeps me putting one foot in front of the other, trying so desperately to love myself, love God, love others, and live without regret.
Note: I always love getting comments. However, if you feel inclined to leave a comment on this post in an attempt to “fix” me with Christian methods or suggestions, please don’t.
I can so identify with this, Rebekah. Thank you so much for your honesty. My dad once told me as a young girl that I never was much of a daughter to him, and it has affected my whole life. I never seem to measure up. It’s so hard to think of God as a loving Daddy who takes me on His lap and comforts me with His love and always watches out for me. I was spiritually, sexually, and emotionally abused by a pastor of the church we grew up in, so that also messes with my mind since he used Scripture to back up his actions. I’ve come a long way, but it can sometimes still be difficult to believe truly in my heart that God only has honorable intentions towards me. May we keep finding our identity in Christ Jesus!
Love your honesty, Rebekah. I’ve often pictured God as mother, who sings over me (Isa 66:13; Zech 3:17)–evangelicals gripped in patriarchalism typically don’t linger on the feminine metaphors for God. Thank you, sister, for reminding this flawed pastor that commitment to a Christian System has no real substance. Perhaps its time for all of us to suck at being Christian. Perhaps then, we could begin to participate in God’s transformative grace. Shalom, my poetic sister.
I have come to know your heart as you have come to know mine. You’ve put some things into words of which I was not eloquently able. Perhaps the only thing worse than being a preacher’s daughter is being a preacher’s wife. Once I realized that being a Christian wasn’t tied to being a part of corporate worship, much less being Southern Baptist, I began to feel some of God’s love again. Though I still struggle and hypocrisy has ruined church for me.