In the beginning, attending church was good for us. It was good for me. I needed something stable and consistent in my life. I needed community. Fast forward several years and the magic for life was fizzling out and the stress of knocking on enough doors to make God happy was overwhelming me. Feeling inadequate for not getting enough people to confess Jesus as Lord or get enough people into the baptismal waters was a terrible existence. Being told I would have blood on my hands if I didn’t warn people of their impending doom left me with nightmares as I pillowed my head at night. The competitive virus that infected me as I saw other women proudly strut down the aisle with their latest convert, made me green with envy. They were making God more proud of them than he was with me. Is this all my Christian life was meant to be like? One would only be called godly if she could convert many souls to Christ and seal them in baptism. This ungodly truth must be told.
The ungodly, no godly person could be seen in fellowship with the ungodly.
We had a ministry, outside the church, where we ministered to those in need of recovery from their addiction. We would invite those sober for 6 months over to our home on Sunday afternoons for a time of food and fellowship.
Church folk didn’t want to come over on those days.
We spent “too much time with ungodly people“.
There’s no way my kids would ever ‘be allowed to have friends come over on Sundays‘…or ever again if we kept that up.
When would the judgment stop?
When would the compassion begin?
Is this really an accurate portrayal of God and Jesus in the church today?
Intuitively, we felt our path was right on target. Though, confused any time we set foot in church. Would that church even recognize Jesus if he walked in on a Sunday morning?
They say the devil appears as an angel of light and I’m pretty sure I saw him in church on a regular basis. Though they would like to say the devil appears as the goth teenager wearing black leather. They would say the devil appears as that young woman wear a pentacle. Lets not forget the environmentalists who hug trees, geez they’re the worst ‘devil worshipers there are‘.
The comparing of ourselves to people ‘as sinful as that’ if we happened to ‘disobey’ (err um, disagree) with the preacher… yep, we were so ‘guilty’. Especially if we happened to be women. Rebellion against the preacher meant we were guilty of witchcraft!
I could never be good enough, godly enough, feminine enough, covered up enough, plain enough, silent enough, submissive enough. I could never please God.
Fifteen years of the negative rat race that never had a finish line. Jumping through hoops that kept coming into my path, darting through arrows of condemnation hoping to not get hit and branded with the mark of the beast. “Run your race with patience“, they’d say. But did God really intend that our life in Christ was going to be so exhausting? What ever happened to the rest we were promised?
The heaven life I thought came with Jesus turned into a nightmare hell with the devil.
Leaving it all behind left me with years of post traumatic stress.
“Just keep reading your bible“, I was told. Christian bloggers would try to encourage me, “stay faithful to the Lord“.
What did that even mean?
The Jesus I was handed was abusive, narcissistic, judgmental, and downright high maintenance.
I lived in fear that he would toss my loved ones into the fire and I had to race against the ‘end times’ to make sure they would be pardoned and raptured out of the coming destruction.
Guilt, shame, stress, racing thoughts, images of people burning in the pit. This is what I faced every day and every night as I lay wide awake til three in the morning when I’d finally pass out.
I eventually would cry out for him to come back so it could all be over with.
Mornings weren’t any easier.
Could there be a 12-step program to de-program me?
Program? Forget it. I’ve had enough programming for one life time.
I needed rest.
I needed heaven, like yesterday!
I hated it. I grew to resent keeping house. Everything I did reminded me of the shame, guilt, and never ending rat race.
If the house wasn’t immaculate, like the preacher’s house was, then I was most certainly not ‘fit for the kingdom‘.
I heard women making their remarks, “how can God bless a woman’s soul-winning time if her house is a mess?“
Is that why I didn’t have enough converts or baptisms? Because my baseboards were dusty and my carpet was old?
If I took a soul-winning day off to clean house I was in sin for missing out on soul-winning.
And if we weren’t as fit as the preacher and his wife were, then we were lazy gluttons who surely would not be blessed.
Reality away from the brainwashing was no better than the reality if I stayed.
I felt like I couldn’t escape.
So as anyone might do in abusive situations, I found an escape. I decided I would visualize a new reality for myself.
“Fake it until you make it“, they’d say.
Only now as I type that do I realize how stupid that sounds.
I don’t want a fake life anymore. I want authentic.
Did you know when you begin to be authentic people like them start making accusations against you?
“You’re on the slippery slope, stop walking the fence, you’re in rebellion!” they’d clamor.
“You used to be such a godly woman.” they’d pity.
As if that wasn’t enough, “You may not have ever been a Christian to begin with. You’re so lost.“
Yep, I was headed for hell all over again.
I could never make them happy, I could never be godly enough.
Might as well go out with a BANG.
I determined to create my OWN reality, my own magic, my own life.
Authenticity isn’t really what they want, they can’t handle it.
“Be hot or cold, or I’ll spew you out of my mouth” maybe God didn’t say that. Maybe man kind said it; they sure do manifest it whenever you step out of their comfort zone.
They accuse others of witchcraft, yet they practice a very evil sort of ‘magic’ in their own churches. It comes from their pulpits every Sunday. The most powerful pulpits are the ones that practice it Sunday Morning, Sunday Evening, and Wednesday Evening. Don’t forget all the extra meetings and ‘revivals’ too.
I saw what many Christians do when they come in contact with witches. It’s messy and disturbing. Right out of the pit of hell.
I’m not talking about Hollywood style witches. If you don’t want Hollywood being the representative of Christianity then don’t take their renditions of witches as ‘truth’ either.
Of all the witches I’ve spoken to and through all the sites I’ve read about real witches, it’s really nothing like what so many Christians teach.
Pat Robertson likes to say women who embrace their female power are anti-men, anti-babies, and pro-evil. Being authentic about our femininity should never be demonized.
People scoff about closets and vehemently wish people would stay in them. I wonder how many people wish Christians would stay in their prayer closets instead of coming out and proudly displaying their beliefs on the city corners with picket signs and bull horns?
This sounds like I’m anti-Christianity or anti-Christians, but honestly, I’m just pro freedom, pro love, and pro spirituality. I’m pro individuality. I honestly don’t mind if you come out of a closet or not. That’s your choice. But living in a closet is no fun at all, just ask Harry Potter.
A closet is a part of the bedroom where you store your clothing and keep your shoes in order. It’s the things that you wear in public every day.
Coming out of a closet doesn’t mean we bring all our shoes out at once and parade them down the street while shouting “Nike rules!” or “women must wear heels, I do!” Just wear what fits you best on each day. Wear your Nike tennies when you jog, wear heels at the club or office, wear your rain coat when it’s raining. That sort of thing.
Most people have enough to worry about in their own closets and don’t need to organize someone else’s closets.
If you have a broom closet, use your broom as needed. No need to wave it around at the crowds and force them to take notice.
If you have a prayer closet, use it wisely and privately. That’s what Christ wants. No need to announce to the world what’s going on in there.
It’s not about keeping secrets, its about having your own personal path that is unique to you.
If you want to wear a cross necklace or a pentacle, do so for your own personal reasons and don’t take offense if people snub you over it. That’s their problem not yours.
This is freedom and I needed to find my own freedom away from the brainwashing.
No matter which path I’m on, it’s MY choice to walk my own path and I can do so as creatively, contemplatively, or as magically as I want.
I know this, I’m never going to allow any one or any group to force me into any kind of rat race ever again.
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