Skip to main content

choosing my religion



Several months ago, I shared about my walk away from religion (you can read that here). Looking back, I realize that the path away from organized religion had really started years before. Back when I was a teen questioning the black and white rules. Back when I was an idealistic new wife and mom questioning the patriarchy within the church. Back when I dared to voice my belief in a large gray area where grace resided and love covered all.

Every one of these thoughts, and more, was conceived inside of my heart before I ever gave birth to their words aloud.. As a (former) people pleaser, I didn't want to offend, to alienate. I didn't want to be different, the outsider. I wanted to belong. I wanted acceptance. I wanted love. And the price tag for that was the silence of my truths.

Can I just tell you how very damaging that silence was? How every time I swallowed down what my heart was telling me, another piece of me was buried? Another facet of  who I am  was layered under a mask of church-sanctioned appropriateness? That for every veil removed, another one slipped into place, going from one disguise to the next in a maddening dance of blindness? Until, exhausted, I ripped them all away, revealing the real and the raw and the naked truth of who I am, in both an angry display of boldness and a liberating exhibition of clarity.

Suddenly, with that 20/20 vision we all possess, I could see, really see, with a clearness that was blinding. It took my breath away like that first intake on a bitterly cold day. It stopped me in my tracks. What was I to do now? That which I had used as my security blanket was lying all about my feet, a garish array of misguided intentions. 

Losing my religion was not easy. It was a difficult and deliberate choice to step over everything that I had walked in for most of my life. I left beliefs, people, and a crumbling foundation in my wake, not in a 'I want to do this' fashion but in a 'my very spirit is screaming out for more' way.
 
And, I began again. Only this time, I am choosing my religion, so to speak. I am digging through my remnants, picking up what is mine and discarding the rest. I am starting anew, with a different but firm foundation. I am walking my path, my way, for the first time ever. and it is perfect.








'Cause I need freedom now and I need to know how
To live my life as it's meant to be...
And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again



So when your hope's on fire
But you know your desire
Don't hold a glass over the flame
Don't let your heart grow cold
 
 
And I won't give them up to you this time around
And so I'll be found
With my stake stuck in this ground 
Marking the territory of this newly impassioned soul



The Cave/Hopeless Wanderer/Roll Away Your Stone ~ Mumford & Sons



Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

and the honor goes to...part 1

This will be a series of posts in which I honor people who have made an impact in my life, both in my past and in my present. I am blessed to still have some of these people in my life; others have left this life for their next one; others are no longer a part of my close circle, yet still made a difference to me. I want to share them with you. I want to honor them. I want them to know how much I love and respect them. The first one is dedicated to my childhood babysitter, Pat B. Growing up, both of my parents worked. This meant that my sister and I went to a babysitter when we were younger. We had a few, but the one that we spent the most time with, and that I remember the most, lived right up the road from us. We were actually neighbors, but being in the country, that meant a cornfield separated us. I recall being there when I was in kindergarten until I was old enough to stay by myself, probably around 12 or 13. I love to reminisce about my time there. It was my home away from
5 comments
Read more

the day that never came

What am I going to do? I'm sitting in the office waiting for the results of the test. My mind is racing. My palms are sweating. Heck, I'm sweating all over. I'm scared. and nervous. and feel like throwing up. Or is that just a symptom? I'm making promises to god, which is pretty funny since I haven't talked to him in awhile. Not since the last time I needed help. What am I going to do? Time is dragging. Where is that nurse? Shouldn't she be back by now? Is that a good sign or a bad one? I need to know the answer. No wait, I don't want to know (yes, I do). I can't bury my head in the sand (or can I?). I can't pretend like this isn't happening (right?). I have to know one way or the other. Yes or no. Positive or negative. What am I going to do? This is crazy. How did I get here? I'm too young for this. I'm just a teen. This only happens to other people. This can't be happening to me (can it?). I did what I was supposed to do (or didn&
1 comment
Read more

no more hiding

I first published this in May of 2013. A lot has changed in that time. A lot has stayed the same. There are updates at the end of this post. One of my daughters is on a daily SSRI (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor) or, in layman's terms, an antidepressant. She was diagnosed with the main dish of Anxiety Disorder, with a side of depression. I can joke about it now - and she can too - but it hasn't always been that way. . We first encountered it years ago. At the time we sought church-based counseling but nothing else in the way of help for her. She was so young that I just couldn't imagine putting her on a medication. I had a hard time even accepting that she might have a mental disorder. We got through that time - barely - and went on without it rearing its head again. But when it resurfaced three years ago, it did so with a vengeance. This time, I was better equipped myself to deal with it. There was no hesitation. We immediately saw a doctor, got a prescrip
2 comments
Read more