Forgive me in advance...

...for the lengthy post.
But I’ve got things on my mind. Whoever reads this, forgive me.

I tend to shy away from talking about God in general. Whether or not he exists—-and if he does exist, what role he plays in our lives. I think that each person probably has their own version of God, and ultimately, that’s how He would want it. Each person seeking out their own meaning based on their unique spirit.

It came to me the other day though, that I think in the past several years, I have—-partly in revolt—-shied away from the God that I know. I haven’t entered a church in over three years, unless my mother makes me. I still pray, but in an irregular sort of way. I still believe, but in a non-committed, ‘hey—who really knows what’s out there’ kind of way. But lately. Lately I can hear Him calling for me. Not like, in a Morgan Freeman voice—-but in my soul—deep and quiet, explaining to me in that gentle way He has, that it’s time to come sit with him for awhile.

I haven’t always been so confused and irritated with religion. Growing up Catholic, I once stated that I would grow up and become a nun. There were those brief and wonderful years when I believed wholeheartedly that it was all true. Then I turned 16 and I started having thoughts. The biggest one? Religion is just some great idea some government somewhere created in order to keep people in line. I went with that. I was bored with the routine of church, antsy to get home and continue my weekend. I continued to go, of course—I wouldn’t dare tell my mother I would not be attending any longer.

In college, things did not improve. Tired of my Catholic ways, but too afraid to stop church all together, I tried different groups—non-denominational stuff that made zero sense to me. They were so sure of their faith—so sure of God’s love and devotion. I couldn’t fathom it, and so I immediately distrusted it. I wanted to be a part of it, but it was all so foreign, so, so….open.…I couldn’t quite handle it. Oh I had a few moments where I thought, “Now I get it,” but they were always fleeting, always lasting for a couple weeks, and then escaping out whatever window they had snuck in. So again, I walked away from it all, swearing that I didn’t need much more than my own two hands and the strength I had inside to get through life. A sentiment I still believe is at least partly true.

After college, I left home. Moved far away. I felt the intense desire to shrug everything off, to make my own way and do it by myself. You can see where I’m going with this. My intense desire for independence did not leave much room for faith in anything other than myself. God, to me, meant submission. And I would not be submissive to anything. I stuck to that. I thought (and sometimes still think) that to have faith in something other than myself, meant I was not holding myself accountable, wasn’t believing in my own strength. Some days I wondered if I was an atheist—though I could never go that far. I settled on agnosticism for awhile….but that didn’t stick either. I got to the point that when asked if I went to church or was of any religious persuasion, I would respond: “I grew up Catholic.” Simple. To the point. People hear “Catholic,” and they can wrap their mind around you. They know where you fall on their religion spectrum. They miss the past tense of the statement, and just move on.

But lately.

Lately, I’ve been thinking. And feeling. My soul is stirring. I can hear it whispering to me, telling me that it thinks I need something else. “What does it all mean, if it’s just this?” Soul asks. And I don’t have a response for the question. And maybe it’s Him I’m hearing. (I should say, I don’t know if God is a Him—I just use that because everyone always says God is a man. In order to avoid confusion, I will follow in suit) Maybe after all my years of asking why any God would want me (—or how I’m supposed to know any of it is true—or how it makes more sense that when we die we go to this divine place instead of just the ground—) I am getting to the point where I’m tired of avoiding the real issue**. Maybe I’d like to give my fidgety little soul, a good long rest in something that feels warm and full of love. Maybe I just want to sit in some church (or field) and listen to that beautiful music that makes me cry and desire more every time I hear it. Maybe my skeptical heart is ready to let go a little bit. maybe.

I won’t call it submission—I never will. I will call it…liberation. I will call it an awakening.

Because you see, for all my attempts to be strong and faithful to myself first, I have lost something. I am not as kind, not as giving—a sort of exterior has formed around my heart and instead of making me stronger, it has weakened me. The things I desire most from my life, the things my soul longs for, are the things I’ve locked away so tightly. Oh of course I still love—my family, my boyfriend, my dear, dear friends. But the point is, I think I could be better and there’s an ache inside me that longs to be filled up with the warmth I’ve lost by allowing spirituality and faith to drift out of my life.

I still think that everyone has their own version of God and I suppose the nuts and bolts of any religion will always leave me at least slightly anxious. I have trouble with the rigidity of church and any enforced doctrine. I don’t like the idea of exclusion. I think if a person can love, that person is a divine creature. I don’t like judgment, I don’t like politics, and I don’t like mistreatment. What I like, is love. And support, and kindness, and giving, and each person celebrating the unique individual they are. Is there a place like that??? I think I’m ready to find it.




**fear.