(Cont’d from previous post)
My cheeks burn and my heart pounds with rage. I seriously just spent the last 15 minutes screaming, “F*** YOU God!! F*** YOU!!” Words I never, ever thought I would say.
He didn’t hear me. There isn’t a he or a she or an it that exists to have heard me. But I heard myself. The me that believed for so many years. The me that was emotionally and psychologically abused and scarred by god, by Christianity’s idea of god. And those are the only ears that matter. My hot cheeks, the only witness to my hot tears. The nerves in my hands the only witness to my pounding fists against the carpet. But the anger was there, deeply rotting for years in whatever chemicals of a soul I have, and it had to speak.
Not at all coincidentally, the only other time I felt this way was when I had a clear head about what happened to me in my teens. A leader in my church abused me. Abuse. That word had clicked in my mind years ago causing a cascade of anger and hatred to erupt into physical manifestations.
And here we are again.
For those of you who are Christian and think I must be delusional (because cognitive dissonance has to give you a reason to think I must be wrong), I want you to read the following as if it were written by an older, divorced man who started dating a younger woman. Would we ever, ever in our right minds think that this is okay? That this is healthy? For anyone?
God to us:
“You’re not enough. You should be dead. You should burn. You are a horrible person. There is so much evil in you. You are evil. Don’t trust yourself. Don’t trust your emotions. Don’t trust your judgement. It isn’t good enough, it could be evil and most likely is. You will ruin yourself. And everyone and everything around you.
“But don’t worry, just be in relationship with me. Then it’ll get better. You’ll get better. Then you can say you’re sorry as often as you want! And as long as you do so often enough and really actually be sorry, then I’ll let you be close to me. Basically, you should just be in a constant state of sorry. Because everything you do is covered by your stench of evil sin, so I have to go back over it and smear my son’s blood all over it to cover up the horrible smell that is you.
“But don’t worry, as long as you stay close to me, you will have total access to that blood. You can cover yourself with it. All the time. Actually, you just should cover yourself with it constantly so that I don’t see you, so that I can just see my son. See, my son I love. And you should try to be just like him. Because he’s the only thing that matters. You don’t really matter. I mean, you matter enough to be a prop for my son. You make a great prop! Sometimes. As long as you don’t stop propping and start being yourself. The best way to be a prop is to just empty yourself of everything that makes you you, and fill it up with my son. Be him. He’s better at everything. You only bring destruction, he brings life.
“But omg, YOU killed my son?? How could you?? You horrible, horrible person!! You were among the crowd that killed him!! He was the most pure thing EVER. And you killed him?!?! Be sorry! Be sorry for that!!
“Lucky for you, not even death could hold him down. He defeated your killing of him so now both his death and his life can cover your despicable life that should be death.
“But if you just keep being sorry all the time, and tell everyone else they should be sorry all the time, and tell everyone else to come closer to me so I can smear the blood of my son all over them too, then you can live forever with me when you die! Yay! Now, go thank me for this. Thank me a lot. Make it all about me, not about you. At all. Just keep thanking me over and over again. Be sorry. To me. Be thankful. To me. Then you should be good.. or, not you, never you, but you could maybe have enough of my son’s blood that you are kind of good enough now.
“Remember, less of you. More of me. Forever and ever.”
This is exactly what Christianity teaches is followers. Almost verbatim. At least every church, school, service, denomination, conversation, etc. etc. that I have ever been a part of. This is atonement. This is abuse.
Instead of praising ourselves (or worse, God), that our 3 year olds are praying for forgiveness, we should be shuddering and doing everything in our power to keep this nasty, horribly abusive doctrine from spreading. Keep Christianity out of my home. Out of my schools. Out of society. Keep this disease as far away from us as possible. It is, ironically, the death of us.