Why I don’t really go to church anymore
Today is Sunday, Father’s Day. I attended Grandmama’s church service, and the start of it made me want to cry. I literally teared up.
There was a story about a dad pretending and laughing and playing with his daughter with a castle. It was about how fathers playing with their daughters are some magical thing, yet I only wanted to cry over it and hate myself because I’d never have that for myself. Sure, I can have kids, but I can never have that during my childhood for myself.
I watch my dad with Ruby and Ezra, and then I get sad that I’ll never be able to say, “Yeah, I had that growing up!” It’s not out of jealousy; I feel sadness for not having been able to grow up with that. I saw my dad sometimes, but when I was younger I didn’t actually get to spend a lot of time playing pretend with him — not like that dream childhood I have where I grow up in a loving household.
I’ll never get that, and it saddens me. I can never get that time of my life back, and I have to deal with it.
The pastor (or preacher?) went on to explain that children who grow up with their biological parents/a mother and a father tend to have a 12 percent better outcome than other children whose parents never married, are divorced, etc. who end up in juvenile hall, prison and/or repeating a grade. Really, what’s so bad about repeating a grade?
I don’t think that it matters about who you grow up with but how. I think one’s upbringing depends solely on their environment, whatever environment that may be. Environments are always changing, and they’ll never stop changing, and a lot of people don’t seem to realize that everywhere is its own environment.
I grew up being bounced around from relative to relative whilst my mom went out nightly to hang out with her husband, or friends before she remarried. I grew up babysitting my siblings from dusk to dawn and all hours in between. I grew up around a stepfather who took the truths he hated and referred to them as mere lies. I grew up in a household where it was frowned upon if I wanted to see my dad/his side of the family or even live with him.
And then, he made a comment about how God making “male and female” will be a topic discussed later, hinting that it had to do with living and parenting. A tiny voice in my head told me that was about same-sex marriage soon after a woman replied, “Oh, yes.”
I didn’t grow up surrounded by love. A lot of my family members tell me I did, but I don’t feel it. Deep down, I don’t really know how to love. I don’t. I have been close to falling in love, some ex-boyfriends have told me they love me, and I can somewhat write about it. However, I’m handicapped in that department the majority of the time. I’m too terrified to allow myself to do it, because I’ve seen how easily love can turn into evil if the right actions are dealt and played.
Also mentioned was something about how one has to have a fatherly figure before he can love God. My cousin grew up with his mom and loved God every day, and he still does.
Church frustrates me. I’ve not been going as much this year, because I’ve realized how closed-minded a lot of people are.
Sermons, defined by me, are simply interpretations of the Bible via the experience, wisdom, knowledge and point of view through the eyes of whomever preaches it. Those who agree are simply agreeing because 1) they genuinely agree and/or 2a) it’s a new way to look at something they did before but differently or 2b) it made sense and, because the preacher/pastor/etc. said it, it’s the “right” way.
I think that too many people treat preachers/pastors/etc. like they’re typically right with their views rather than remembering that they’re human. They’re just human; we shouldn’t have to treat them like they’re kings and always right.
I dislike going to church now. I dislike it, because I don’t want to feel obligated to clap for the person standing on the stage teaching a lesson when I could really be praising God instead — I don’t want to be told how to live according to someone else’s point of view, I want to actually live according to my point of view in the way that I believe Jesus/God would like for me to live.
I’d rather live a life full of love and forgiveness than one of ignorance and intolerance; I’d rather live life as a person who doesn’t spend time judging others in a way that I determine myself whether they will go to Heaven or Hell than live one that spends energy telling people they’re going to go to Hell because of whatever their actions and/or lifestyle. I’d rather try to love the way I imagine it’s supposed to be and hope for a husband who can provide that for me. That’s how I believe life should be lived.
Thus far, I’ve spent a lot less energy feeling upset and angered and frustrated over preachers’ sermons.