What do a t.v. show, the YMCA, an atheist, and a pastor have in common?
They have been saving me for the past few months.
I decided a few months ago I was tired of being absorbed in my own pitiful thoughts day and night. I had to do something to distract myself. I began watching “Friday Night Lights” on Netflix. I would sprawl across the couch and watch six or seven episodes per day. That’s a lot of television time, y’all, especially for someone who didn’t watch a whole lot of t.v. Little did I know how a show about small-town football life, dreams, and grace would have me in tears on more than a few occasions. It became such a part of me that I’d sit at basketball games while my daughter was cheering, and compare real-life people to the characters on the show. (Ahem…I might’ve been just a little obsessed.) I just finished up the series this past weekend, and I feel like a part of me is missing.
The show was a good distraction, and when I’d start to dwell on my dead dreams and failing faith, I’d escape to the downstairs t.v.
When Christmas was over and the new year rolled around, I knew I needed to get out of the house and be around people. I also needed to strengthen my legs so I wouldn’t further injure them while running. The gym seemed like a good solution, so I joined a couple of weeks ago. I’ve been working out three days a week at the Y. I love to people watch, and the gym is quite an entertaining place to do so. In addition, I feel better and have more energy each time I leave, and my run time is beginning to improve. By the time I leave the gym or finish running and get the rest of my day underway, I have little time left to throw myself a pity party.
The gym is proving to save my sanity and my health.
Last fall I came across a blog post written by an atheist. Upon perusing his blog, I quickly found that he had formerly been a Christian and very active in the Southern Baptist church. I was experiencing a lot of questions and doubts which he addressed in his blog. I followed him on Twitter, then we became Facebook friends. On a particularly trying day, I messaged him with some of my questions, and he was kind enough to answer them. Since then, he’s answered many of my questions about religion and atheism, and allowed me to vent my frustrations in a way many of my Christian friends can’t. I’ve learned from him (and a few others) that the stereotype I’d learned about atheists was wrong. And I’ve realized that some atheists used to be dedicated Christians. They can relate to my wavering faith, which some days includes unbelief, better than most Christians.
My atheist friend is saving my belief in humanity.
Last summer a friend introduced his pastor to my blog. This pastor began commenting on almost every post I publish. He’s been beyond gracious in sharing his thoughts about my failing faith, my questions, and my doubts. He’s said more than once that he sees faith even in my struggles with said faith. He never chastises me. He simply shares his thoughts on my writing subjects and encourages me. Almost every comment he leaves brings me to tears — the kind that trickle from the deep well of hope that must remain somewhere inside me.
This commenting pastor is saving my fragile hope in the church, in pastors, and in grace.
It’s a strange combination, I suppose. But all these combined have been saving me — when I believe, and when I don’t. I’m more accepting of my own questions and doubts. I’ve moved from constant hurt to mostly indifference, which I think is an important step in the process of letting go. I’ve welcomed the distractions and the activity. And I’m grateful for the equal amount of acceptance I’ve received from two people on polar ends of the religious spectrum.
