Posted on a friend’s wall, under my real name, in response to something she wrote about how so much of fundamentalism is simply not Christ. Writing this under my real name was slightly scary, but not so much anymore. Weariness sometimes drowns out my fear. Who knows? This may even go in a more public sphere under my real name. It’s not fear that keeps me from doing so, so much as it is the realization of how much I will lose and how much more weary I would become. It’s funny how the love of others for me is entirely contingent on how well they think that I love God and “obey” Him.
Please know that I do not wish to be convinced. Rather, I do wish to be convinced…but most likely it will not come from a person. I don’t know. Everything is blurry.
I think you know I am wavering very much between atheism and deism. Actually, I am often both in the same day. Today it seems that I am a deist (though I was an atheist for most of last week). But this makes me want to believe. I want so much to believe that God is not a monster.
“Real love feels safe.” Part of me reaches out ever so tentatively to that statement, to wrap my trembling fingers around it and try to bury it deep within my heart, scratching it on the walls of my mind and soul. But “perfect love casts out fear” is already scratched there - in harsh angles dripping with a slow-killing poison. So much scripture is carved on the walls of my soul and heart and mind in those same cruel strokes with that same seeping poison. Things that may have once been meant to comfort that have only tormented.
I do not believe I can find “real love” in the church. Right now, I’m not even convinced I can find it outside of Michael. Many days I’m not convinced I can find it in him, though I realize those days are often marred by my own fear and self-hatred choking the life out of me, blurring my sight and senses.
I don’t know whether God is blurry because I hurt, or because I only hope to see Him when He is in fact not there.