The Empty Pew and That Pesky "R" word

Think about this question:

"What's your religion?"

Have you ever been asked that? More than likely you have. And it seems like such a simple question, as if you could answer it with one term and that would be it. All done. 

I'm Christian. I'm Muslim. I'm Buddhist. I'm Atheist. 

But it doesn't truly answer anything. Maybe it tells the person asking the absolute basic beliefs that you have, but it doesn't tell them anything about your relationship with God and our universe. It doesn't give them any kind of glimpse into your heart and mind. 

And that's why you get people who say "I'm not religious, I'm spiritual." And I understand what they are getting at. Some people despise religion, and honestly I'm not that fond of it myself. Spirituality speaks to a divine connection. Religion outlines a set of rules and regulations. 

I'm not often asked about my religion, though. Most people in my life at this point know me well enough that they believe they already know the answer. I usually get this question instead: Are you still going to church?

It's a check-in. Are you still doing what we all believe we must be doing in order to stay on the straight and narrow? 

And I often feel I have to skirt around that question. I feel I need to answer that question with a list of excuses and justifications. 

But the short answer is no. No I'm not still going to church. And no, I don't plan on joining one any time soon. And no, I don't feel guilty about it, even though (if you're the one asking), you probably think I should. 

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This morning I came across an article posted by a friend on my Facebook feed. She captioned it "Here's the dumbest thing you'll read today." So, of course, I had to check it out. And I found myself becoming angry as I read it. Not because I'm extremely passionate about the heroins mentioned in this article. Not even because I'm fired up about women being referred to repeatedly as "the weaker sex". But because of the author's apparent religious overtones and his firm belief in belittling an entire gender in the name of God. 

"Look at all these times that the Bible equates failing epically to being just like a woman", the article (pretty much) says. 

And while I know that many believe that a woman is to be submissive (and others take this way too seriously), I also know that this man is one of millions of people and his opinion isn't exactly fact. 

But I just kept thinking enough is enough.

Degrading others, being judgmental, being selfish and greedy, being dismissive, being angry, being hateful--all in the name of religion. It's enough. 

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My 6 year old has become obsessed with natural disasters. A couple years ago our home flooded and it was very traumatic for him. A couple of months ago, tornadoes touched down near our home and we've had several tornado warnings and watches in the last few months. His terror of them has turned into a deep curiosity and I love that about him. Knowledge is power and he wants to know all he can. 

He wants to know all he can about everything. And just the other day, he says to me, "Mom, why were tornadoes made?" 

I gave him the simple run down of how a tornado is formed but that wasn't enough for him. So, I prepared myself for a scientific lecture and before I was a sentence or two in he said "No, I mean..why does God make things that kill people? God made everything right? So why would he make tornadoes and hurricanes?" 

Well, to be honest, kiddo...I really don't know. And that's just what I told him. I can explain the science behind the weather all he wants but I can't answer that question because I don't have the answers myself. Why does God allow tragedies to happen? We believe it's all part of a grand plan but how do you explain to a 1st grader that God thinks it's for the greater good for these 100 innocent people to die this one day? I wasn't ready to travel down that rabbit hole so I just told him I really wasn't sure. 

Just days before, he struck up another conversation about God that I wasn't prepared for. I told you this kid was super curious. I'm not even sure what got us on the subject but he says to me "I want to find out as much as I can about Heaven and about Hell so I can decide which one I want to go to. I guess Heaven because Hell sounds really scary. And the Devil lives there and he's mean."

I was completely taken off guard. Where did he even learn about the devil and Hell? He sure as hell didn't hear about it from me or his dad (pun intended). He told me people were talking about it at school. 

My little curious, inquisitive boy is also very sensitive. And before the conversation was over he was asking me what he could do to make sure he didn't go to Hell. He was crying. He was afraid, And I was angry. Not with him, not at all. But with the reality that I was going to have to enter into this conversation with him, unprepared, and unwilling to say or do something that was going to upset his little heart. 

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I grew up in church. All my family and friends were Christian or Catholic. Mostly Christian. We lived in a very small town and attended the same very small Baptist church that my grandfather was a deacon at before he died. I loved my church family. I have a lot of good memories surrounding that church, and some bad, but that's for another day. 

I learned all about Jesus from the day I was born. I loved God. I was happy. But I was also very aware that I was stained. At 5 years old, I made the decision to "be saved". What was I needing saved from? A life destined to end in the fiery pits of Hell. Without praying for Jesus to take up residence in my heart, I would be lost. No child wants to be lost. And, I really wanted to be able to have grape juice and crackers with everyone else so I went for it. 

I never felt like I was pressured into that decision. Neither of my parents were even present when I announced that I wanted to say that prayer. Most people at that church genuinely cared about me and were filled with joy that I would be so moved to seek God at such a young age. 

And there's nothing wrong with developing a relationship with God so young. There's nothing wrong with loving him and being grateful. It's a very endearing thing. 

But I remember very clearly that love and gratefulness wasn't all I felt. I also felt guilt. And fear. And it drove me to do or not do a lot of things. The guilt and the fear was what motivated most of my choices, not the love. Of course I loved all my friends and family..I would have with or without a relationship with God. But I knew about Hell. And I knew that sin was what brought it on. And I also knew that it was nearly impossible not to sin. 

Every time I got sick, I thought I was being punished. I remember vividly sitting on the toilet with a stomach bug crying out to God--not to heal me, but to forgive me. Forgive me for whatever it is I did that made You punish me this way. I was taught in Sunday school that God wouldn't hear my prayers if I was sinful. Sin was like a ceiling over me that blocked me from God. So each night when I prayed, I would first say "forgive me for all my sins", so I could open those doors of communication. I knew that I had probably done so many sinful things that I couldn't even list them all. I lied to my mom. I didn't do my homework on time. I stayed up late and watched The Golden Girls when I was supposed to be in bed. I fought with my brother. I ate two pieces of candy instead of the one I was told I could have. I was doomed. 

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Throughout my childhood and teenage years, I stopped going to church. I still considered myself a Christian, I still believed in God and Jesus' sacrifice. I just didn't do the whole Sunday/Wednesday thing. And I was fine with that. But in my adulthood I discovered a church and a group of people that made me question where I was at in my faith. I believed I wasn't good enough. I started trying to take the Bible very seriously, word for word. Although my church was very vocal about it not being about rules but about your faith, I felt in order to establish faith you had to follow the rules. I went to church a few times a week. I read my Bible and journaled daily. I prayed all the time. I stopped using the occasional cuss word. I stopped laughing at or making crude jokes. I tried to tell myself I felt a certain way or that even though I didn't feel it, I should do/be it because that's what would get me closer to God. I was going through one of the hardest times in my life and I was desperately seeking Him. I just knew if I did everything He called me to do in the Bible that I'd feel the connection, I'd have the intimate relationship and it'd all be worth it. But I felt more alone than ever. Not only did I not have some miraculous, comforting feeling of truly knowing God, but I barely knew myself. I'd argue points with people that I didn't even truly believe...maybe I was trying to convince them, maybe I was trying to convince myself. 

After some time, I just stopped. It wasn't a specific choice but I just allowed myself to not feel like I needed to jump through every hoop and follow blindly and go go go and do do do in order to truly call myself a Christian. 

I moved away from where that church was and when I no longer had people to ask me where I was on Sunday, I stopped worrying about it. If God was gonna show up for me, it was going to have to be in my own house. I was tired. And I was disappointed. Never had I tried so hard to pull myself close to Him and I just didn't feel it. I wanted to, with all my heart. But I didn't.  

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Ever since I threw myself completely into "being a good Christian", and the subsequent fallout, I've just kind of been floating around in a confused space in the middle. I believe in God. I take most of what the Bible says or what we have translated/interpreted it to say over the years with a grain of salt. I believe that above all else, we're called to love one another. What else is there? If we do those two things, doesn't most of everything else kind of fall into place? I love singing certain hymns. I am in awe over beautiful sunsets and my children's smiles and I believe He created them.  I'm not big on rules and regulations. I don't believe that God insists on me (or any of us) denying ourselves happiness to establish some kind of merit. I think he wants us to love one another. If the thing that makes you happy hurts someone else, then don't do it. If it hurts no one, then by all means, go for it. I try to see God looking at me as I look at my children. I love when they are sweet to each other, forgiving, helpful. It frustrates me to see them fight. It pains me to see them hurt each other. But it's never going to bring me to the point of shutting them out--it wouldn't matter if they did it one time or a million times.

I don't want them to be motivated by guilt and fear. You might think "You can't teach Heaven and not teach Hell." But oh, I will. When they are older, they will discover all they need to know to form their own opinion. But right now? I do not want them to be pressured by those three Rs: rules, regulations, and religion. 

I want them to be motivated by love. I want them to know one thing of God: that He gives love and he inspires love. I want them to be kind because it makes their hearts smile, not because they fear something unkind happening to them. I want them to give because their hearts yearn to share, not because they fear that they will lose everything. 

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Right now, the pew where I once sat is empty but my mind and heart are full. I am trying to learn to love God again. I am trying to learn who God really is. Not some cloud-faced genie in the sky, not some authoritative boss whose approval I will never earn--something in between. Something more genuine, something simpler.  I'm trying to find out who He is and who I am at the same time. It's a journey that has taken me a lifetime so far and it may take me the rest of my life. I am ditching the guidelines. In the pit of ceaseless effort and hopeless effect, I'm no longer grasping in the dark for a rope to pull me out. I'm using love as my lantern and digging my own way.


**********Edited to add a note of clarification***********
As I was thinking about this an hour after I published it, I thought "I hope no one takes this the wrong way."
I want to clarify that no one who has been a part of my journey is responsible for my journey. I am quite fond of the way I was raised. My mother is a great woman of faith and I admire her for that, and for teaching me to be humble and to love freely. My family honors their faith by being supportive and loving through all times. My church family as a kid and as an adult was filled with people who were there for me. Especially in my adult years, those people offered great friendship and comfort. My beliefs and my questions are not a reflection of anyone or anything that has been done "wrong", but simply a part of the path I am walking as an individual. I love you all. 

That time my marriage fell apart...

I'm not sure how to start this post. I know that it's going to be raw, it's going to be intimate, it's going to be difficult to read at times. But I also hope that it's going to be helpful. I hope that it's going to be encouraging. I hope that it's going to be the right amount of honesty and transparency, so that it becomes relatable and impactful.

I'd like to say I could jump right into the purpose of this post (and its sister post, yet to come) without any background, but I can't. As much as this is about the present and the future, it is very much about the past. Our history. My husband and I started dating when we were 17. The weekend after high school graduation, we moved in together. Within the next year, we bought a house together. Shortly thereafter, we were engaged to be married and my husband joined the Navy. Within months we were married and he was gone--off to become a sailor. A few short months later, we were back together and within days we were expecting our first son. Over the course of the next few years, we moved several times, faced three deployments, suffered a miscarriage, and had another son. We piled so much triumph and so much heartbreak into a very short span of time. It would have been impossible to go through all that without it having some effect on our relationship. Over time, the strain of normal marital conflicts became heightened by the somewhat abnormal situation we were in. For years at a time, he was either gone or we were preparing for him to leave. Neither one of us really had time to adjust to being parents, that is, not as a team. We were young, we were naive, we were struggling to keep our heads above water. He'd leave for awhile and when he came back there would be a period of confusion as we settled in. On some level it was like reliving the honeymoon phase over and over. On another level, it was like having an intruder come into your life and rearrange it, just when you thought you had it under control. Just as things began to even out, he'd be gone again and the process would start over. Issues arose between us--I want to say they were your typical issues that you deal with in becoming adults, parents, and learning to live in a life-long partnership. But those issues were never addressed. It seemed wrong to spend any time fighting when he was home, yet without addressing the issues, the distance between us grew and grew until even when he was home, we were miles apart.

In late 2013, he returned from his third and longest deployment. It was a whirlwind for us--we changed duty stations shortly thereafter. We were under a great deal of stress but we were trying to find our new normal. We were both trying to adjust--him to being back to the daily grind, to having two little boys constantly needing him and watching his every move, to being face-to-face with a wife that was overwhelmed and anxious--me to being hundreds of miles away from the family and friends I had at our last duty station, to trying to enjoy having my husband back but feeling terribly alone at the same time.
2014 was by far the most difficult year in our marriage. It seemed like everything that had been building up finally came to a head. He was angry. I was hurt. We were both confused. How had everything gotten so tangled up?
We had made up our minds--the other person was the enemy. We fought daily--big blow up fights. Screaming, someone was always storming out and driving off. I look back and I think about our sweet boys, what we put them through in those moments and I feel a knot in my stomach. We welcomed their daddy home and ushered them into a world of constant chaos. We both had our minds set on retribution. We knew that we weren't innocent, but the other person was definitely more responsible for the pain and discord in our marriage. We waited for each other to "come around" and while we waited, we drifted further and further apart.
I remember one day, I walked into the bathroom to put away a stack of towels and instead of placing them on the shelf, I stuck my face in them and sobbed. I felt, in that moment, that it was no longer a matter of "if", it was a matter of "when". I truly believed my marriage was over.
We'd talked it out a hundred times. I'd prayed. I'd called my mom crying at all hours of the day. I'd sought advice from friends. We even went to marriage counseling. What else could we do? It seemed damaged beyond repair.

One weekend in early November, my mom had taken the boys to give us some time to spend alone. Our date night ended with a huge argument, he left the house and I went to bed crying. The next day we didn't say a word to each other until late in the afternoon. I approached him and said we needed to talk. After talking a short period of time, we both came to the same conclusion: It was time to call it quits. We sat down and began to discuss a plan for the boys and for our finances. Most of that conversation is a blur to me, but I know at one point he said "Well, this is what we both want."
God, those words sounded so foreign. They felt numb and empty and at the same time they cut like a knife. I looked at my husband and said "Is this what you want? Not having you, not being together as a family..that's the last thing I want."
I don't know what it was about that moment but our relationship that had been so murky and muddy for months suddenly seemed crystal clear. We sat and cried together, we hugged, we put on our song and danced and cried some more.
Somewhere along the way we had forgotten that we were working toward the same goal. Somewhere we had forgotten that we were not competitors, but teammates. We were both so concerned with our own hurt feelings that our focus became on fixing the past rather than securing the future. We vowed in that moment that we weren't going to be those people anymore--we were going to hold on to what we had, we were going to fight like hell, and we were going to love more fiercely than we hurt.

We continued counseling and truly put all our efforts into it. We realized that until we were real with ourselves, we could never be real with each other. I'm not going to say it was easy but it was such worthy work. Within a matter of weeks, things were different. Now, some 9 months later, things are worlds apart from what they were last year. Our relationship is stronger and yet more tender than it has ever been. Our love for one another is easier and yet more intentional than it has been in years. I could not be happier and I'm actually thankful for the difficult times we faced. After being in a valley, the mountaintop seems that much more rewarding. I believe I know my husband better than I did before our hard times. I see more of him..I understand him better..I love him to the deepest depths of my heart.

I want to share with you all a bit of insight into how we turned our marriage around--some things I wish I would have known all along but am so very thankful to understand now. But, as you know, I can be long-winded and this is probably enough for one post. Lol.

Here you've seen the history and in my next post you will see the future. To be continued, my friends... :)

And the word of the year is....

Content.

The new year is upon us. 2015--it's hard to believe. I've decided that this year, instead of making resolutions that I'm unlikely to follow through with, I'm going to give the year a theme and build on it. My theme for 2015 is to be content.

2014 was a very trying, exhausting, saddening year for me. I won't go into details but I will say I fought my own demons, faced trials in my marriage and family, and was met with some very big changes. I found myself feeling more hopeless and worthless than I had in a very long time. My anxiety and depression reached an all-time high and it seemed that trouble awaited around every corner. 2014 was just a culmination of so many years of things working their way into my life and my heart--negativity, frustration, disappointment.
I looked back on my life, namely on my adulthood, and realized that two emotions were prevalent: fear and guilt.
I have allowed these two emotions to control so much of my life and it's time that I regain control.

Despite the trials we faced this year, my little family came out of it with our heads above water and we're working to make ourselves even stronger than before.

I want this next year to be filled with love, laughter, and progress. I want this year to be filled with contentment.
Some people confuse contentment with complacency. That's not the case. You can be content with the goals you have set for yourself but achieving them still takes work. It's not always going to be a "sit back, relax, and take it all in" type of feeling. But, one thing that I know for sure--I want it to be a happy feeling.

I have so many things in my life to be happy about. So many. And yet, I've realized that I've not been experiencing all the happiness I can. I haven't allowed myself to. Some of that has been due to my anxiety and depression--which I'm working on--but some of it comes from insecurity and those two pesky emotions I talked about before: fear and guilt.

Fear of being rejected.
Fear of being abandoned.
Fear of not being worthy.
Fear of others' perceptions of me.
Guilt about not "adding up".
Guilt surrounding not being the best wife, the best mother, the best daughter, the best friend.
Guilt about wanting something for myself that others may not approve of.
Guilt about doing things differently; being myself.

I've spent many years of my life so worried about what other people think, what society says I should be doing, and what I might be messing up, that I've not allowed myself to truly enjoy the blessings I have in my life. And for that, I'm sorry. Because those of you who have been a blessing in my life deserve to be truly, fully appreciated.
How often do we let others dictate how we feel, what we do? How often do we follow through with something, knowing it will bring us no joy, simply because we feel constrained, obligated, or forced?
I'm not saying we should be totally selfish. We shouldn't ignore the needs of others. We shouldn't be so self-absorbed that we don't notice when someone could benefit from our time, our words, and our presence. But, we shouldn't be forced to tolerate negativity because we feel it's "just the way life goes."

I'm talking about allowing others opinions to influence your choice of career, how many kids you have, when you make big life decisions, who you marry, or what religion you practice. I'm talking about "going through the motions" every day because you feel you owe it to your family or your peers. I'm talking about beating yourself up with each mistake. I'm talking about setting unrealistic expectations for yourself and others and being torn apart when they aren't met. I'm talking about the constant feeling of competition--someone is always prettier, always a better mom, always smarter, always more advanced in their field, always richer. I'm talking about drudging through life doing everything you feel you have to do without stopping to think about what you want to do.

In 2015, I want to rid myself of all of that. If nothing more, I want to begin to make a more positive impact in my own life.

I just recently graduated college and you know the first thing I thought? "Well, now I have to go get a job in my field, I guess."
No true, genuine excitement. Now that it's here, and it's real, I wonder if this is even what I want to do with my life. I've always been smart. I had big dreams of double majors in psychology and poli sci. I wanted to run for Congress some day. I went straight into college, because that's what you do. But then, I got married and I had kids. And I realized life is much more than checking boxes off of some giant "must-do" list. My loved ones are my passion. Singing makes me happy. Writing fulfills me. And I honestly don't even really care for politics anymore. I realized that shortly into my college career, so I went with Psychology and then back to school for Substance Abuse Counseling. Substance abuse hits close to home for me and I love helping people so I could see this being something I enjoyed doing. But is it my passion? No. And now here I am...several years later. I've put what truly makes me happy on the back-burner to do something more tangible, something that will make me some money, a "real" career. I've got two college degrees, a whole lot of debt, and a commitment to something I'm not sure will ever make me feel fulfilled.
Why have I not tried to make anything of my writing? Fear. There it is again. Fear that I'd fail. Fear that I'd waste my time and then when I realized I couldn't make it, I'd have to scramble to find a "real career". Fear that people would look down on me. "Oh you're just a mom and an aspiring author?" I can just hear the contempt.

2015 is about being content. Content in my choices. Content in my abilities. Content in my discernment. Content in my love, in my relationships, in my own worth.
2015 is about not letting anything get in the way of my self-confidence. It's about being an awesome wife and an awesome mom and an awesome family member and friend---not based on certain accomplishments or comparisons but just because I am awesome. At least, my husband and kids and family and friends think so. And I'm going to stop trying to convince them otherwise.

2015 is not about fear, it's not about guilt, and it's not about proving something to everyone. There aren't resolutions to lose X pounds, to get a job paying X salary, to do X amount of new things. Sure, all those things would be wonderful. All those things can be goals. But if I set them, I want to be the dictator of what those mean for me. I'm freeing myself from doing things based solely on the idea of negative repercussions if I don't do them,

2015 is my year. I can feel it. I won't stand for it being anything other than mine. I have amazing people in my life, big dreams, talents, and a heart full of love. I won't squander those things anymore based on guilt and fear. I will be myself, I will own it. I will be content. 
And I invite you to do the same.

Happy New Year!