turning the other cheek

I read this older post at Slacktivist today. He references an article about Katy Perry where she speaks about her conservative Christian past. I already knew that she had grown up in a home much like my own (although with a mother who was a pastor as well as her father I thought it couldn't have been quite as conservative!) and that she was an apostate who showed the failure of her parents to protect her from worldly influences. Basically, she was a warning - a look-what-can-happen story. She was everything bad that could happen to a devoted Christ-follower. Fame, fortune, scandalous clothes and a song about kissing a girl - and LIKING it.

She got a lot of flack for saying anything about her upbringing and/or criticizing it. Here's what Fred Clark had to say about that: "All of which is to say that Perry doesn’t “slam” her strict, evangelical/fundamentalist upbringing nearly as much as she could or maybe should have.

It slammed her for 18 years and she walked away. That’s not retaliation, that’s turning the other cheek."

Ugh. That was like a punch to the gut. That's exactly how I feel right now - like my religion slammed me for 26 years. the first half of that is true of me - I was "slammed" by the christianity I was with and I slammed others in turn. The second half - the walking away - I can't seem to get. 

Hence the sick feeling in my stomach. Katy Perry - an apostate reviled by my peers and pastors alike - is a better person than I. For some sad reason I can not seem to move past wanting retaliation. Maybe it's because I can't seem to forgive myself for all the evils I in which I was actively participating or silently complicit. Maybe it's truly because I want to raise awareness. Maybe it's because I want to prove to the world at large that I am no longer *that* person.

Turning the other cheek in the form of walking away is something I sense I desperately need to do. I can see the value in progressive christianity, I can mentally assent to the truth that there are good people who are christians and bad people who are christian and being a christian is no guarantee of either. But I can not seem to get rid of this tightness in my chest when I hear the word christian - and on the other side I can not rid myself of the lingering fear of burning in hell for all eternity. I'm in a very strange purgatory where theology is still a fascinating interest to me and also the thing that gives me mental and emotional hives (and very real panic attacks) at every turn.

In the past week I also read the answers of Rachel Held Evan's Ask Jennifer Knapp. At one point Jennifer Knapp gives this insightful answer: "Retrospectively, one thing I’d say is that while it is possible to learn from the experience of being ‘in the spotlight’; it is not the most fertile soil for significant growth. The spotlight is where we celebrate and commune with what we’ve learned. The growth, the creation, self-exploration and processing, I just can’t see how we can possibly do that effectively with an audience. It’s too exposed. Being observed inherently shapes the outcome. We usually talk differently when we are being observed. We perform."

She is speaking specifically here of the spotlight that came on here while she was on tour, under a spotlight on stage, writing music, etc. But I couldn't help but find it to be true for me in a broader sense. I have never had a moment where I was not performing. I have always had to perform for parents, for grandparents, for aunts and uncles. I had to perform for people at church, at youth camp, at CYIA. Strangely enough I performed the least while at Bible college (while still a performance based atmosphere, I got by because I wasn't one of the "bad" kids) and then at seminary it was performance all the freaking time. All. The. Time. 

The word from the seminary now is that if you have social media (eg facebook) the seminarians and their wives are required to friend faculty - so the seminary can keep an eye on you. And social media is just another aspect of how public scrutiny, the spotlight, has intensified. In the past five years or so for me specifically.

This blog is a prime example of how, despite all experiences and evidence to the contrary, I seem to think that being honest in public, being open in public, being transparent through the process is a good or useful thing.

Maybe I perform, and maybe that is hindering my growth, or hindering my ability to just walk away. Maybe not. Maybe I am just delusional, thinking that honesty during the confusing times is helpful for someone - if not me, someone else - and that it won't be a hindrance to whatever I need to learn. I really have no answers.

All I know is that everyone should read all the things that were written by Jennifer Knapp. 

"The spotlight or the communal exhibitions of our human experience are necessary. It allows us to connect with others, build and reaffirm community. It can be a healing process or practical act of human expression in being ‘known.’ It’s a point of celebration of our achievements and passions. But it must be put into perspective. These are but moments-glimpses; a poem, a song, a photographic still frame in what is the long and rich story of our lives. To aspire to only that moment is to miss out on all the extravagance of life. It’s what we do into the lead up and aftermath to those moments that says more about us than fifteen minutes of fame ever will."

listening

My last blog post was a tad self-serving and whiny.

"C'mon guys, it's just SO TOUGH to learn these new languages and to be on the outside of, like, y'know, evvverrryyyythinnnnnggggg!"

And yeah. It is.  And yeah. Sometimes I suck at it. And yeah. I still don't have a clue what I'm talking about.

Maybe I should be waiting to blog until I am on more certain ground, until many of the questions I have run their course and until I have a clearer picture of what life will look like going forward. But to be honest, I think that the value (if there is any) in what I write is public self-examination, public transformation, public change. I don't want to make mistakes, or to get on my soapbox only to have it collapse under the weight of my ego.

So I'm going to just leave that post up and start talking about the important component that I ignored before.

Listening.

(Ya'll, this was inspired by a beautiful woman, whom I love very much.)

Feminism and inclusive language of all kinds are not my first language. I also had been taught a very specific way to misinterpret the words that I heard. When a feminist says "patriarchy" they mean "men are all evil and suck!" When a feminist says "down with the patriarchy!" they mean they want a matriarchy. When feminists say "women need men like fish need a bicycle!" they really mean we should ditch heterosexuality and all 'become' lesbians!

I was taught a specific way to interpret language about race ("they are just whining about old wounds!") and poverty ("they need to pull themselves up by their bootstraps!") and other denominations ("catholics worship mary! heathens!") and religions ("all Muslims are militant!") and just about any other group that was not a part of my family or social circle - or even those who were.

A few years ago when I was finally open to learning from others, that learning took the form of listening. Not listening with the goal of debunking their opinions. Not listening while inside forming my rebuttal. Not listening just so I could say that I had. Listening while trusting their opinions had merit. Listening and believing them when they said "I don't hate men" and "I can't pull myself out of this." Listening to the words they were using and asking them what those words meant, instead of deciding for myself that I had the right alternate interpretation.

I was not speaking my original language. I was learning not only new concepts but new ways of speaking about those concepts.

In my last post I forgot one very important thing. I don't speak their language because I am not done listening and learning. In all honesty I hope (and know) I will never be done learning and listening. It's not the fault of anyone but myself that I have taken so long to realize that I even NEED to learn other languages, that there even are other valid languages. And it will also be my fault if I ever think I can be done listening.

Part of the thing I miss about my uber-christian life is how I could speak with authority. I knew my subject, I knew my language, I knew my audience, I knew how to tailor my words and actions to be acceptable and laudable. I could bring others around to my point of view and just be seen as "godly."

The humility of needing to listen - of learning how little I truly know, how few languages I can truly speak - is a very good thing. I may feel slightly cut off from community right now, but part of that is because of my tendency to be the one speaking with authority. The one with answers. The one who has ingested all the researched and pooped out a perfectly formed truth. That kind of certainty accomplishes alienation, no matter what community you're in.

That's not me. Not anymore. Inside, anyway. Old habits, though, die hard.

I just hope I can continue to listen, continue to learn and continue asking the questions.

And I hope those in all communities and who are fluent in other languages will forgive me as I stumble along.

hymns

As a nanny I cared for the most beautiful, sweet, perfect child. He had neuromuscular problems, he couldn't move his legs and at a year he had the mental capacity of a three month old. I cared for him for a year, my first year away from Bible college, my first year as a married woman, my first year on my own. In that year I fell in love with him, his older sister and his younger brother.

I gave him baths pretty much every day, and for some reason I found myself singing to him.

he leadeth me, o blessed thought
o words with heavn'ly comfort fraught
what e'er i do, where e'er i be
still tis god's hand that leadeth me

sometimes mid scenes of darkest gloom
sometimes where eden's bowers bloom
by waters still, o'er troubled sea
still tis his hand that leadeth me

We were that christian family - the one who had the hymnal memorized, who sang together while washing dishes, whose love of music was based on The Concordia Hymnal.

When this little boy I loved with my whole heart left this world, I held to that hymn I had sung him hundred of times.

and when my task on earth is done
when by thy grace the victory's won
e'en death's cold wave i will not flee
since god through jordan leadeth me

I still cry, reading those words.

Today I was driving my own three precious children and listening to the ever-popular Mumford and Sons. The song was Below My Feet.

keep the earth below my feet
for all my sweat, my blood runs weak
let me learn from where i've been
keep my eyes to learn my hands to serve
keep my eyes to learn my hands to serve

I was singing along, quietly, and suddenly I heard the tone, the heart - it was a hymn. I was overwhelmed by how easily these words became a prayer of sorts, a hymn for me. I had no thought in my head that I was praying for some other One to keep the earth below my feet, or to keep my hands and eyes - just that these were things I desired. To learn from where I've been, to learn, to serve.

[Mumford and Sons, for the record, have stated that their music is not Christian and Marcus Mumford eschews the label, but if you look up the meaning for these lyrics person after person interjects Jesus and God and salvation and death and more.]

Guys. It felt so natural. Hymns.

Also this weekend I found myself attempting to talk about things I am learning about and things I absolutely care about. Inclusiveness, feminism, psychology and more. And I floundered. I totally floundered. Inclusive language, sensitivity to others, not acting like an asshole - I kind of flailed about.

In this blog post (which just exploded my mind with ZOMG that's ME!) the phrase "identity suicide" comes up and can I tell you that ZOMG that's ME.

I kind of can't find my footing right now. I imagine that feeling will persist for years. My identity was wrapped up in the Church, was defined by the Church and my future was written and determined by the Church. (Or God, or Jesus, if you prefer.)

I speak about fifteen varieties of Christian-ese. The uber-conservative one, the homeschooling one, the evangelical one, the slightly liberal one, the liberal one and more denominational and theological tongues than I care to think about. I speak these, for the most part, fluently and with a fairly comprehensive knowledge. I can converse with jesus-hippie-libs and dogmatic doctrine-over-person christians. I have the words!

That's important to me. To have the words.

But those languages, those words, are useless to me. Identity suicide somehow involves learning how to speak all over again.

So I find myself pouring over feminist literature, trying out new words. I am learning what kind of inclusive language my GLBTQIA (or QUILTBAG) friends would prefer. I even have to relearn what kind of language that I used to employ is implicitly (or explicitly) racist, sexist, ageist, ableist, etc.

Guys. I'm flailing here.

Twenty-five years of indoctrination and feeling that any other way of viewing things would cause God to be displeased with me? That conditioning is not easily overcome. But I'm working on it, I'm learning, I'm getting better.  Not fast enough, though, because one more hurtful word, one more racist or sexist statement is one too many.

And here I am, working at this like mad, and then hymns.

Maybe I need to do that most difficult thing and give myself time, forgive myself and give me a little space and grace. I do not know how to balance, to remember and enjoy the good parts of my history, my "culture of origin" and the faith that has defined my life for so long, with the new and good things I am learning now. How much can I or should I hold onto and how much should I leave behind?

Even in this, I find myself remembering one of the hundreds of verses I memorized -

"It is good to grasp the one and not let go of the other. Whoever fears God will avoid all extremes." (ecclesiastes 7:18)

I'm not, according to my faith-culture, one who fears God. And, as I said, I have no idea if there are good things I should be holding onto as I reach for something better.

But perhaps, someday, I will find a new place that honors both the truth-seeker and the mystic in myself.

"After I deconverted and felt like I was losing all of my identity (since I had always shaped and understood every part of it around Christianity), in picking up the pieces I began to think that what must really have been core about me all along were my commitments to truth and to loving other people. Those were the real constants, the things that proved more important than the faith—enough that I had the strength to actually leave it even. And they have proved the most enduring parts of me too, as they remain core parts of who I am over thirteen years later."
( go here. read. )

she was a woman. that was bad.

The lovely Sarah Bessy asked, via twitter, for others to tell her the feminist stereotypes they heard coming from the church. I'm sure she will post about this, and I'm sure it will be beyond fantastic, as is all of her writing. And I won't spoil the fun of discovering the many disturbing tweets when she writes about them, or when you find them yourself on her twitter. I will say that I had heard all of those stereotypes before, and all from church leadership. Reinforced by family and homeschool leadership and basically anyone and everyone I knew. Including everyone I knew and discussed this with in college. And everyone I knew and discussed this with through my husband's seminary years.

Feminists: Destroying the Family Since The Feminine Mystique.

In 1992 I was six-and-a-half and precocious. I climbed trees and kicked boys in the shin when they looked up my skirt - although sometimes one of my withering looks was enough to scare them away forever. I read at least one chapter book a day and I had the vocabulary of a high schooler. And I absorbed everything. I remembered more than my parents comfort level could take.

There was, that year, a bit of political uproar in my house. My parents, my grandparents - I remember them despairing over the state of the world.

"His wife kept her maiden name. Hillary RODHAM Clinton. I guess we all know who wears the pants in that house!"

"I want to elect a man to the White House, not vote for his name and get the wife instead!"

We walked to the Post Office so my stay-at-home-homeschooling mother could mail her work-from-home crafts. She was etsy before there was etsy, selling her creativity all over the US.

Someone had hung a flier for Clinton.

My mother chatted with the Postal worker and mailed her packages and I read the flier. Six year old me, curious beyond belief about these people I had heard of and never seen. These people who were the ones bringing down the world.

I stared. I stared. I stared. There was a normal man and a normal woman. They had their pictures in our Post Office. He was trying to be President - but she was going to RULE.

"Hillary RODHAM Clinton. Hillary RODHAM Clinton."

I whispered those words to myself, rolled them around in my mouth. I knew there was something really awful about them - some horrific meaning to the word Rodham that I just could not comprehend.

She wore "the pants." That was bad.

She would give him advice, or tell him what to do. That was bad.

She was a woman who would give advice to the President. That was bad.

She was a woman. That was bad.


There are people in my life who believe I don't remember things the way they actually happened. Unfortunately these memories are as clear as day. I can tell you the bike I tried to ride to the Post Office. I remember the packages piled on my sister's lap in some kind of wagon. I can see the flier, and I can still taste the rancid word Rodham on my tongue.

That was the first anti-feminist (truly, anti-woman) beliefs and language that I can recall.

And I absolutely internalized this language in the way I detailed above. There was something wrong with women having power. There was something wrong with being a woman.

After all, if there was nothing wrong with being a woman, there would be nothing wrong with a strong, influential woman, who chose to name herself whatever she pleased.

missing community

Good Friday marked the passing of the Dean of Sam's Seminary. And for all the hurt I have from that place, for all the bad memories and the anger and pain, I still mourned.

I cried for his family, I cried for my old community and I cried for us. My heart broke a little for everyone he had cared for and especially for his six children and twenty-seven grandchildren.

He had been a kind man, a man who loved people, the best he knew how.

When I spoke with him and a few others (during Sam's exit from Seminary) and told my story so far, he accepted what I said with grace, and told me "what is important now is for you to heal" and at that time I desperately needed to hear those words. That is how I will remember him.

In many ways now it would be easy for me to say "I have had my time, I'm healed! I'm coming back to the fold!" and I can not deny that the passing of the Dean created this kind of guilt, the kind of guilt I haven't felt in a while. The kind of responsibility to my tradition, my community, my faith.

The funeral was beautiful and moving, and his son said that his father would be pleased if even one person came to know Jesus as a result of the funeral. I knew that, in his care and love for his students, he would be even more pleased if that one person was me.

I don't think I can convey how much I want it to be me.

I miss my community. I miss my status. I miss feeling like I am doing something worthwhile in the world. I miss fitting in, I miss having answers. I miss being good, really good, at something.

Now I don't seem to fit anywhere. I love progressive Christians, and I speak their language. But their enthusiasm for the church and energy to reform and love it has come and gone for me. I love feminists, but I am still such a new feminist, with so much misogynistic baggage, and I can't seem to truly speak with them or state my new-found feminist intersectionality without making some egregious blunder. I love the LGBT community, but I present as an obviously straight, cis-gendered woman and I can not relate to their pain in a way that makes me part of that community.  I'm an ally, not truly a member.  I love social work and progressive politics, but working through my tea party roots is just exhausting.  I love those who are working together to better the earth through all kinds of Green initiatives and yet I do not have the energy to work with them, to make their community my community. I don't speak any language except fundamentalist evangelicalism, and it shows. I haven't yet developed a varied community or another language.

I'm community-less.

And yes, still strangely happier and more content than I was while living under scrutiny and hoping the umbrella of lies and half-truths I had created would hold up to the prying eyes.

I would love to be back. I would love to be the lost sheep, returning. But I can't do it.

That wouldn't be honest.

I can not be the fundamentalist I once was, who is constantly reevaluating Scripture through Scripture and attempting to make it all fit together in a cohesive, literal bundle.

And yet I can not be the one cherry-picking the good and leaving out the bad, just so I can have my faith, just so I can feel like my soul is secure from eternal damnation.

I do not know where that leaves me, except alone with my questions.


"Non-fundamentalist religion, by definition, depends upon cherry-picking the given religion’s doctrines, discarding the uncongenial teachings and reinterpreting the others to make them more comfortable to live with. Think, for example, of the fact that the majority of Roman Catholics use contraception. The word that accurately and simply describes cherry-picking – choosing manageable commitments and ignoring inconvenient ones – is not a comfortable word; it is ‘hypocrisy’. But it is done with a blitheness, and often with a lack of self-awareness, that religion in some of its forms deliberately seems to promote, preferring half a loaf of adherence to no bread."

Grayling, A.C. (2013-03-26). The God Argument (pp. 6-7). Bloomsbury Publishing Plc. Kindle Edition. 

my barbarous ancestors

On March 14th I received this email:
[non-essential portions removed for brevity]

_________________________________________________________________________________

[Denomination] President's Alert - Please Act !

Please read this important message. Please act!

Yesterday a group of 12 Lutheran pastors met to discuss and determine what we could possibly do in regard to a bill that is right now being presented and discussed in our Minnesota state legislature which will legalize gay marriage .  The way things are right now it is very likely that those in favor of this bill have enough votes to pass the bill.  The bill was approved in both the house and senate committees on Tuesday and it will radically redefine marriage for all Minnesotans.  If this bill is passed the state will impose this redefinition of marriage upon our people by force of law.

What is needed?  

First of all we band together in prayer, calling on our Lord to move and change hearts and minds of those that are voting on this important matter in our behalf.  

Secondly, we as a people must stand up and speak up for what we believe God has to say in His Word about this. 

Our state representatives and senators need to immediately hear from us that we stand in opposition to such this bill and encourage them to speak and vote against the bill. Use as many means of communication as you can to get your message to them.  Phone calls, e-mails and snail mails should all be utilized. If possible, talk to your legislators face to face in love.

_________________________________________________________________________________

I could talk about the fear just wafting off this letter. I could talk about how they made a mockery of their founding motto: Free and Living Congregations. I could rant about their language of "must" and "please act!" and generalizing every member of their denomination in the state of MN as believing what "God has to say in His Word about this." (about what, exactly? Gay marriage? Or legislating your religion?) Or I could talk about how they were either deliberately ignorant or deliberately LYING with the wording of "If this bill is passed the state will impose this redefinition of marriage upon our people by force of law."  WHEN the bill in question has language that strengthens and supports religious exemption, including exemption of goods and facilities. I mean, the gays can't even use your CHURCH BUILDING if you don't want that to happen. And "our people"???!! How much more tribal and exclusive can you get?

Personally, I believe in legislating against liars.* If Pastors lie to congregations, I think we should take away their right to speech. I mean, liars speaking is dangerous, right? And lying is a sin. And no sin is worse than another, so we need to legislate them all. And lying, well, that impacts everyone around you. It impacts the decisions of others and, in this case, impacts the legal rights of others. So why not? If we are legislating our version of morality now, why the f*ck not?

I'll tell you (my version of) why not.

I fell in love when I was 19. I married when I was 20. I was an ignorant, ridiculous child. And I married the love of my life and I never once had to wish for a marriage that would not happen because other people thought it was bad or wrong. I knew that my financial life and my future would be easier. I knew that I could visit my man in the hospital. I knew I could make legal decisions for him if he was incapacitated and he for me, without parental or other interference. I knew I could choose any place I wanted to get married and anyone who was willing could marry us. I knew that he got health care through work and that I would qualify for that as well. I knew that I would benefit from his pension, his social security, his estate, etc.

Never once did I doubt that it would happen, or it even cross my mind that anyone would be able to prevent it. No one could, really. I was an adult. I could decide if, when and whom I would marry.

I had this thing called FREEDOM. And like most people who have had freedom, along with privilege, their entire life, I never gave it a second thought. I had freedom to be stupid enough to marry at 20, and no one could stop me.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out the next part. 

In our "free" and democratic society, some people are NOT free. Why? Because a segment of a religious group deems that their choices are sinful, harmful, or not valid.

When it comes to marriage, they have no freedom. 

That, my friends, is a problem. 

It is especially a problem when you fight for and believe that your religion and religious preferences should have unlimited freedoms that are under no oversight. Despite centuries of documented abuses of all kinds.

(It is even more especially a problem when you are a church body with Free and Living Congregations as your motto.)

Freedom for you, yourself and those who sin like you, isn't actually freedom.

"For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that respects and enhances the freedom of others." - Nelson Mandela

“I am not an advocate for frequent changes in laws and Constitutions. But laws and institutions must go hand in hand with the progress of the human mind. As that becomes more developed, more enlightened, as new discoveries are made, new truths discovered and manners and opinions change, with the change of circumstances, institutions must advance also to keep pace with the times. We might as well require a man to wear still the coat which fitted him when a boy as civilized society to remain ever under the regimen of their barbarous ancestors.” - Thomas Jefferson

"An individual has not started living until he can rise above the narrow confines of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity." Martin Luther King Jr.

*shockingly, I don't actually believe in legislating against liars.

SAAW :: i freaking love my husband.

Spiritual Abuse Awareness Week - The Last and Final Blog

Uhm, don’t take that as meaning this is the last and final blog I will ever write about spiritual abuse forever and ever. Amen. I think that might be impossible. I blogged my way through high school (proud former Xanga community member!) and blogged on the now defunct threeinonemakesfive blog as I was reliving my childhood and discovering you can be a Christian and pretty much hate dislike John Piper. I have hidden blogs and topical blogs and a website for my photos (at www.rachelserine.com) and no matter how many times I regret blogging and opening my big mouth and putting something down on paper (figuratively) I always come back.

Sorry. Tangent.

So. I took the first two of these SAAW blogs pretty seriously. Sometimes I take myself a little too seriously. So I want to lighten the mood just a tad here and let some other people do a bit of the talking.

First of all: moving forward.

Things I want to say about that begin with this: If you are not me, please reserve your opinion on whether I am moving forward, have moved forward, am moving forward fast enough. Also, a great list of what not to say to someone who has left the church. If you stop reading what I have to say and just read this, I won't be offended. I will be happy. It's important.

Thank you.

Second, when someone has been through religious groups that undermine your very self and existence, working through that can sure make a dent in your faith. Especially when you come from an “all or nothing” religious tradition. In the traditions that give ultimatums like “if creation was ever proven false, then we can not trust anything in the Bible” or “Every word is inspired and infallible” or “atheists are unhappy and depressed” the result of actually meeting atheists or talking to evolutionists is this thing called cognitive dissonance.

And if you’ve been taught it’s all or nothing and you run up against a huge, gigantic, crappy load of cognitive dissonance? Welllllllll... you have to pick. All? Or nothing?

Fundie parents. Be careful what you teach your kids about faith.  They just might BELIEVE you. 

I have dealt with that, for the most part. I get it now. I get that there doesn’t have to be all or nothing in faith and I’ve realized that there are all kinds of beliefs in the wider Christian faith community. But it was hellish trying to figure that out, and it was horrible being slammed and having my faith questioned because I was finally giving place to others and acknowledging they had faith too.

But I'm very grateful the variety exists. 

So while my religious experiences sure did open the door for me to realize the general harm that Christianity does every single day and give me cause to take seriously the words of atheists and agnostics, that is not the only reason I claim hopeful agnostic as my own. There are really, really good reasons to leave Christianity. Logical reasons. Sensible reasons. Irritatingly good reasons. I WANT to stay in the faith community. Because, well, community. But... good reasons itch at my mind. 

(And, seriously guys, it's really insulting and NOT helpful to say things like "Christians will disappoint you but God never will" and to comment and insinuate that your only problems with the Church are jerks-for-Jesus. Um. NO. Or, if you must, feel free to say it. Just know it's demeaning, and I will probably not give you the time of day.)

Spend a few hours watching this guy on youtube and you’ll have a general idea of my issues.

So I'm a heathen. And yet my husband will tell me that I am Christ-like. Or loving. Or inclusive. Or caring. And have a Christ-like heart.

Of course, he is a little biased.

But what I want to emphasize here is that if we’re going by “fruit of the spirit” measuring sticks, I am MUCH more a Christian than I was when I had the “right” doctrine. If we are taking right doctrine as the measure (and after years of study, hello - what IS that anyway??!!) then I am hopelessly lost.

But ya’ll. Understand this. Do not take that to mean you should try to bring me back. There is no words about Christianity you can say, no arguments you can make, no Bible verses you can throw at me right now that will cause me to become more interested in Christianity right now. Not. One. Thing.

And I know some people who read this blog probably want to do that very thing. 

(There's a good chance I have already heard what you have to say, already used it on someone else. Queen of apologetics, here. And what I have not heard, I am reading up on. I'm still learning - I just don't want to be other people's project. Enough with making people "projects" already.)

Even as a Christian, one of my pet peeves about us was we just couldn't leave people ALONE. Or let our faith actions do the talking. We thought we could good-reasons-hell-scare-theology-talk people into faith. Or that we had some right to ignore personal and societal boundaries because SALVATION, obvs! And if we were called on it? Then persecution! Obvs. :)

I have to say that if my Seminary-trained-husband can refrain, so can you.

Which brings me to my next little piece of moving forward.

Working out what it means to be a hopeful agnostic married to a still-fairly-conservative-lutheran. Who still wants to attend a church that gives exegetical sermons and doesn’t want to give UU congregations a chance. Who held me and challenged me through two rounds of spiritual abuse.

When I told him I was going to be writing about this, he had a good laugh. “What are you going to say? That our marriage is awesome? That it works? What is there to say? We love each other?” 

I have to admit that when I look back and think about the hours of warnings I heard about how difficult it is to be unequally yoked in a marriage, I have all the lols.

Not that I want to diminish the friction that can happen in a marriage where one person has faith/another does not, or one person loses their faith and the other keeps it. There is plenty of friction possible there! Especially when you are in the fundie mindset and freaking-the-heck out about how your spouse is letting sin into the house and what do you do if they don’t want to go to CHURCH and how can I convince them that Jesus is REAL and Christians are Right About Everything??!! Because without Jesus there is only sin and pain and injustice and darkness and HELL! (actual quote)

But it is not that way for us. Not. One. Bit. Somehow we missed the marriage-killing-condescension.

No coercion. No distress. Except when I have a moment of guilt over what he has given up for me.

Our relationship is better. It is better now. We have had a better year this past year than we have since our first year of marriage. Actually, better than our first year. Way better. The fights are better. And fewer. And the fights we have are not related to faith. Life is more fun. We are more honest. The sex is way better - and it was great before. Our marriage has, somehow, thrived. 

I could probably write pages and pages on why I think that is. But I’ll try to take a short stab at the foundation.

Respect. Contrary to Eggerichs’ stereotypes, I need respect as much or more than I need love. And he needs respect too. He thinks I’m smarter. I know he is wiser. We get that both of us have very good reasons for our separate beliefs. We don’t worry about whether we are going to convert the other to our point of view. We know we will take the kids to church, of some kind, because Husband wants them to share his joy and I want them to have a religious education. We won’t lie about our separate beliefs, or worry about where our children will fall on the spectrum of faith/non-faith.

Husband has never been that Christian who is scared of sin (in himself or others) or ever been swayed from the basics of “Jesus loves me this I know” and that is all. That is all he knows for certain, and he is humble enough to give others their space.

I’m learning a lot from him. (understatement of the decade!)

And he is the reason I do not hate Christians. I find fundamentalist evangelical christian faith to be prone to abuse, coverups, thought reform, tribalism, infighting and worse.

But I live with (even if it’s only 2 days a week right now) a wonderful person who happens to be a Christian. And he is the reason I still have “hopeful” attached to the agnostic.

I’m hopeful for Christians, and the Christian faith. I’m hopeful that more relationships between Christians and agnostics (and protestants and catholics and conservatives and liberals) can be as non-adversarial as ours. I’m hopeful that, as understanding of faith traditions grow, there may be answers to some of the unanswerable things that keep me from fully committing to the faith my husband holds.

Most of all I am hopeful for my little family. I’m hopeful that my children will see I love them unconditionally, and that their worth is not tied to their (emotional or actual) virginity. I am hopeful that husband and I can create a safe space together, and build a new and beautiful life. I am hopeful that we will discover new and really cool things about each other, now that we live without the pressure of conforming to preconceived and unilaterally enforced notions of good and evil. And I am hopeful that we will meet and learn from all kinds of people who we would never have known in our previous life.

I’m also hopeful that someday, when the wounds have healed, husband will be back in faith ministry of some sort. Because the more people like him there are in the faith community, the better it will be.