The Only Thing Worse Than Hell (Is Thinking You Deserve It)

I remember, from the time I was in third grade to the time I was fifteen, being almost constantly afraid of going to hell. I remember praying, when I was smaller, that God would not let me die before I knew all of my sins, so I could repent of them all. I was afraid that I would die, not knowing that I had sinned, and so have unconfessed sin and go to hell.
When I was older, I was scared to death of losing my faith and therefore, going to hell. I had heard very bad things about teenagers, that they were frivolous and didn't care about God at all. And I was scared to be one. I was scared, as my thirteenth birthday approached, because I had heard that teens were bad. I didn't want to be a teenager, because teenagers went astray, lost their faith, and disrespected their parents--when they weren't doing drugs, having unprotected sex and getting pregnant, or becoming Satanists. What should have been a purely happy time, looking forward to my birthday and later just enjoying life, I dreaded immensely. After all, in a church play in which I was involved at age thirteen, I remember very vividly that literally ALL of the teenage characters in the play went to hell!
But through all of that, I realize now, I wasn't truly afraid of hell. There was a much deeper, more sinister fear, one I still struggle with today, in spite of not believing that hell is likely to exist. Underneath it all, I was truly afraid of being a bad person. Underneath my fear of eternal torment was the fear of being someone who deserves eternal torment. (And it didn't help that I was told I did, anyway, no matter if the speaker believed themselves to be just as bad!)

I still fear being a bad person, and it comes out in so many subtle ways. I nearly hate myself if something bad happens to one of my animals, even if it's not my fault. And even if it's small, like the cat being trapped in my car for a few hours at night, or my disabled chicken possibly getting thirsty.
I worry sometimes that I don't work hard enough if I don't have a traditional or full-time job. I feel compelled to help people as much as I can, even if I need to help myself, first.

This also comes out in my perfectionist tendencies. I failed my driver's license test five times, and each time, it was devastating. It was hard to ascribe that to being a bad person, but I felt like I was a failure, not my driving (even though I wasn't "supposed" to feel that way). That I simply couldn't measure up to what was expected of me--what I expected of myself. It didn't help that I didn't want to take my driving test, for years, that I had a real phobia, because...well, can you blame me? I was homeschooled, too, so failing so publicly, in front of a stranger, was especially humiliating.
I felt like I should "just do it," and I felt so weak for not being "tough" enough to punish myself like this.

I think a lot of what reinforced my fear of being a "failure" or "loser" was my snooty aunt. She seems to, even now, measure the success of her children by how much unlike me they are. I remember when my youngest cousin was fifteen, and showed no interest in getting his learner's permit, that she blurted out, "He's going to be just like AJ!" right in front of my mother. My mom has never thought of me as a failure, and she didn't care what her sister said. But I think that was so telling. My extended family is very close, so it's hard not to care what they think. To this day, I sometimes find myself measuring myself against what I think she will think, even though she is not involved in my day-to-day life. It's a hard habit to break.

I must have gotten the notion that hell is where people go who hate God, and so I thought that if I went to hell, it must mean that I was a selfish, hateful person. A bad person.
I saw how Christians did not believe people, when they said they didn't hate God. When they said that they did not simply want to sin. That they weren't selfish, or hypocrites, or too self-centered to give their lives to Jesus.
These people were not believed about their own moral state, about their very thoughts and feelings. They were assumed to be lying, or lying to themselves. And they were condemned in the name of "discernment." And of course, Christians expected to be believed, when they said they weren't judging or condemning, just "telling the truth in love." But it wasn't the truth. In order for Christians to be telling the truth, all unbelievers had to be evil, hateful, selfish liars--ironically, what Christians claimed to be before being saved. The Christians thought they could throw stones BECAUSE OF their sin, not in spite of it, or because they had none.
So I didn't even believe myself, or believe that I was good, in spite of doing bad things, or in spite of a part of me not wanting to pray or read my bible that day, etc. I assumed that I was lying to myself. I was not allowed to trust my own instincts, even in spite of what other people said.
So when my brain was tired of reading the bible--in King James for a while, no less--I automatically assumed that it was my bad "flesh" trying to get out of reading God's word. I assumed that the devil was tempting me, and I was being susceptible. And this is just one example. I had severe insomnia for years, because I was so vigilant about my mind and not having one un-Christian thought, that I could not simply relax and let myself go.

I didn't realize that sometimes, it's hard to know what the right thing is. Even with all of the rules of Christianity, where your "relationship" with God is defined not by spending time with God, or even just talking to God (as if he answers back), but by how you live your life, whether your clothes are modest enough (though my family and I thought ankle-length skirts were cult-ish), and whether you can witness and have perfectly Christian conversations all the time.
It's hard for Christians to see prayer, meditation, and bible study, so they judge whether someone is a "real" Christian by outward appearances, or by statistics about said prayer and bible study--how many pages read, how long one prayed or "listened to God" or choose-your-euphemism, how "great" was the spiritual experience described. No other "relationship" is measured in that way.
Or by how one party lives or their personality. No one says that I don't love my mother, if I cuss, even if my mother hates cussing (she doesn't). But they certainly say that I don't love God, if I cuss, because they think God doesn't like cussing.

My biggest fear, to this day, is being a bad person, or being a "failure," or not responsible enough. But my mother never thinks that I'm a bad person, or that I'm a "failure." And there are many others in my life whom I'm sure wouldn't think that, either--even if my uppity Christian aunt isn't one of them. So I try to see myself through the eyes of people who love me, and who accept me and like me just the way I am. If this was someone else's life, I would not be judging them, I would be happy for them! So I try to be easy on myself. And I'm getting much better at it, though I seem to keep finding little insecurities every day.

Sometimes I tell myself, over and over in my own mind, "I am good. I am good." And it feels like I am getting high off of those words. I was never taught to believe that, not by my mainstream, "normal" evangelical Christian school, anyway. It was even frowned upon. And I'm sure they would wonder why I had such low self-esteem for so many years, and why I was depressed.
I'm supposed to love myself because God loves me so much and made me, and blah, blah, blah. But I'm also supposed to know just how fundamentally bad and depraved and evil I am, at least on my own. I'm supposed to love myself and have joy because God makes no mistakes--but I'm also supposed to hate my "sinful flesh." I'm supposed to love myself, while believing myself to be fundamentally unlovable. I'm supposed to love myself, while also hating a part of myself that I can't just get rid or choose not to have. (LGBT people, does this sound familiar?)
But love cannot be mixed with hate. The hate is the part that will shine through. Especially if the person you both love and hate is yourself.
The fear of hell does not scare me much at all, now. It took years, and my faith being "broken," to get to this place, but I've finally arrived. But the fear of being a bad person, lingers, and it will probably take years to get rid of completely--if I even can get rid of it completely.
I wonder how many other people, from both religious and non-religious backgrounds, have this fear, as well. I know some Christians who take it for granted that they are good and moral, because Jesus makes them that way. And I know some atheists who try to help others, as much as they can. Perhaps part of that is really wanting to think of themselves as good people, or perhaps they simply like to help others, in whatever form that takes for them. Who knows?
In any case, I do believe that most people do not think of the question, "Am I afraid of being a bad person?" But I think they should. Because I believe more people struggle with this, and don't realize it, than people that do not--especially if they are or have been very religious.

When God Takes Away Toy Story: An Unhappy Christian Childhood

When I was about twelve or thirteen, my mother and I started watching shows on the Christian networks about demons and demonic items. And we started getting scared that maybe some of our stuff was demonic, and letting in bad influences. So we got rid of a bunch of stuff, especially Disney stuff, since there was so much witchcraft in Disney films. It hurt--but we thought that's what God wanted.
My mom didn't make me get rid of all this stuff. I bought into all of this just as much as she did, and I was very desperate to have the close, joyful relationship with God that I had always wanted--that was promised to me, if I got born again and REALLY meant it! (Though I get saved, many times--so many times that I eventually sensed a pattern, and stopped because I knew exactly what would happen and was tired of the pattern.)
So I got rid of a lot of things and movies that I had really enjoyed. It was hard to do, but I had to give up everything for God. This world would be hard, if one was a Christian, but it beat the fiery alternative. And I had to love God more than anything, or I was shallow and selfish and not a "real" Christian. I didn't want to be any of those things, either. And I really did want to feel close to God and to please him.
I also got rid of some things that I didn't think were demonic, but that were "idols," I thought, because I loved them and thought about them too much. I got rid of my most precious possessions, my Toy Story toys. I was absolutely miserable--but if this didn't work, then nothing would! I had to find a way to be close to God, or I would never be happy in my relationship with him, and I might even "fall away" and go to hell.
About a year or two later, my mother and I couldn't believe how desperate we had been. And we had not felt any closer to God, for all of our efforts.
"I can't believe I got rid of so many things I loved," I shook my head, in much regret.
 "Well, I hope you're not mad at me, but...I kept your Toy Story toys," she said.
I cannot begin to describe how relieved and thankful I was, then! I had them back! There were all of my old friends, who had been with me since I was very little. I even still have the Barney Bag that I have always stored them in!
I remember, before the madness of getting rid of them, that I had stayed up late literally every night, lying in my bed and thinking of new adventures for Woody and Buzz "in real life," where they were humans and not toys. They lived in the nineteenth century, and each had a family. Woody was the sheriff of the town, and they were neighbors. Woody also lived on a farm. He and Bo Peep were married, and he was always trying to catch Jesse James (not Jessie the cowgirl, who was his sister).
Toy Story was the first movie I went to see in the theaters, at five years old, and it literally had set the course for the rest of my life. I obsessed endlessly over two questions: When would Andy find out that his toys were alive? And when would they become real people?
Ninety percent of the time, my cousins and I played one of two games: Batman, and Toy Story. I always had to be Woody, even though I wasn't a boy. I invented such elaborate scenarios that I finally had to suggest that we play "non-stop," where we didn't stop to say something like "and pretend that Jessie James and Zurg were friends..." We never lasted more than one or two minutes like that, but it was fun.
Toy Story was what made me first start writing fiction, if only in my head. And writing fiction remains one of the great passions of my life, even now. It set the course for my entire life. I was still writing stories of Woody and Buzz in my head almost constantly, at twelve years old--and that's why I thought it was an idol and that God was surely displeased.
It's amazing to me now that something that brings me so much joy, could be considered a bad thing. If God is really worth knowing, wouldn't he want me to be happy? And if he doesn't want me to be so happy, is he really worth knowing?
I was taught to distrust my own gut and my own emotions, when they told me what I needed. I was afraid to trust myself and my own judgment, especially about right and wrong. But now I understand that I need to go back to the original source of my inspiration, if I'm going to be happy and fulfilled.
I have a theory on the Toy Story toys actually being haunted/reincarnated, which I published a week or two ago. There may be a flaw in that, because of the multiple Buzz Lightyears in the second movie, but in my opinion, the "second Buzz" had an entirely different personality from the "real" Buzz. So I'm still working on that one.
I also am writing a very long Toy Story fan fiction, about Woody and Buzz falling in love. There are no farms this time; it is set in the Buzz Lightyear of Star Command universe, and Woody is a wanted thief who kidnaps Buzz to sell him to his enemies--and he has made a lot of enemies, as a decorated Space Ranger!
 It will be finished soon, and I will publish the chapters on my Deviant Art page--I'll let everyone know here when it is up. I usually like to write an entire story before publishing it, unlike with my other romance story, about the Accelerated Christian Education characters, Pudge and Ronny (that story is on the "Gay Christian Fanfiction" page at the top of the blog, or on my Deviant Art Page). I will continue writing the ACE story soon, too, though I am focusing on Toy Story for now. (I also have another story on my Deviant Art page, about Captain America's sidekick, Bucky, and his sister, a transgender Mary Marvel.)
This fascination with Toy Story may seem silly to a lot of people--but now that I can, I have to listen to my own gut and emotions, when they tell me what's right and wrong, or what I need in my life. There's nothing wrong with loving something, as I've discovered--and love is love, as Woody and Buzz will discover. I plan to include a lot of the other characters from the Toy Story movies, as well. A sci-fi setting, with all of its alien races, is perfect for such things. :)
And I'm especially glad that I still have my absolute, all-time favorite toys, because I've made them reenact some of the scenes in my upcoming story for you here:

"Christian" Is Not A Choice--But Hurting Others Is

I recently made the point that, at least to an extent, one cannot choose their belief system. However, one can choose how to express it.
You do not have a "right" to own a business. If your personal beliefs do not let you serve everyone equally, then the decent and ethical thing to do would be to sell your business, so that others do not have to be discriminated against. Even if it's your dream, to own such a business--because it's our dream to be equal citizens, and not have to be told we're abominations when we're planning the happiest day of our lives. Sometimes people feel led to give up their dreams, for God; that's just the way it is. (Or should Rosa have simply gone to the back of the bus, and not "caused trouble"?)
You also do not have a right to demand that the government support "biblical" marriage. Marriage, at least in this sense, is a legal contract. If it was the government's business what "real" marriage was, then divorced people would not be allowed to remarry. You are a hypocrite, if you support one form of "unbiblical" marriage, and not another--especially if you are divorced yourself. (And if you really did repent, then you would try to get back together with your ex or one of your exes! At least Kim Davis did that much.)
Now matter how much I pity or sympathize with other people, I must fight them, as much as I can, if they are hurting others. And they don't get to decide whether they're hurting others or not; abusers mostly don't know that they're abusers! One can only really know how much they are being hurt, not how much they are hurting others. Abusers don't think of what they're doing as abuse, and rapists often don't think of what they did as rape, because it doesn't fit the cliches. You don't have to intend to hurt someone, or even to know you're hurting them, in order to hurt them.
It doesn't even matter how much or how little you "hate" other people; if you are hurting people, you are hurting people! The fact that you say you love us, does not make being second-class citizens hurt any less. (And what the heck do you call people who don't have equal rights? There's a name for these people: Second-class citizens!)
I'm not sure why people expect me to care whether they hate me or not. That has absolutely nothing to do with whether one is hurting others.

I couldn't shake my beliefs in hell, and a homophobic and sexist god, for a long time. And it was because of fear--because anything different seemed too good to be true. And I was taught to distrust any idea that I liked or actually wanted to believe, because my flesh was bad. But I'm glad that social media was not around when I was thirteen. I'm glad I couldn't hurt very many people with my inherently hurtful beliefs. I was a prisoner to these beliefs, but I still could have done a lot of damage.
Bothering other people, when they don't want to listen to your message, is not okay. Taking away legal rights is not okay. Discrimination, even in the name of God, is not okay. You have a choice: To ask if someone wants to hear your message, and then respect their "no," as Jesus said to in the bible. To understand that it is a legal contract, and that you cannot force your religion onto others. To sell your business, or choose not to do any weddings at all.
If people were being fired for marrying someone of the opposite sex, Christians would be outraged. If people were being denied the right to legally marry the opposite sex, they would be livid--even though they could always marry in their church, anyway. And if Muslims were refusing to do Christian weddings, people would not be talking about business owners' rights as if they were sacred.
Being Christian, or even conservative, is sometimes not a choice. But hurting others is. If you have a deeply held religious belief, you are the one who should make the sacrifices--not others. Apparently, a lot of Christians do not believe in a god that rewards their sacrifices made for him. Or they do not believe that the rewards will be worth it...Interesting...

Mr. Nazi McOrangeStabber: My Youth Group Horror Stories

So I came across this the other day:

And it reminded of my old youth pastor, who stabbed an orange with a screwdriver to show how emotionally devastating premarital sex was. He didn't gently use it.
Each time the theoretical person had sex, he covered the orange with another layer of aluminum foil, and stabbed it again. Eventually, the person got married, and their spouse had to peel away the layers of hurt to get to the person underneath. He never proved that people were actually like a screwdriver-stabbed orange covered with tinfoil, though.
A couple of boys in the youth group begged to be the ones to eat the orange, but he didn't let them. He had a sack full of other oranges to share.
"Technically, sex is when the boy's penis goes into the girl's vagina, but we're also talking about other sexual things, here," he said, making everyone in the mixed group uncomfortable.
He also liked arranged marriages, "courting," and said that Christians shouldn't date unless they want to be married right away. He said that one would get hurt, if they dated a non-believer. I pointed out that one could very well get hurt, dating a believer, because you just didn't know about people. He seemed forced to admit that, "Yes, you might get burned dating a believer, but you WILL get burned dating an unbeliever!" My mom later said that trying to avoid being hurt at all costs was no way to date, or to live.
This guy was actually the more fun, less serious youth pastor, too. His partner made fewer jokes and laughed less--though he wasn't angry, just serious.
In one "photo scavenger hunt" we did, one of the items the stabber put on the list was "Get your group 'goose-stepping' through the grocery store parking lot!" I was later glad I was on the other pastor's team, because, while the other guy misunderstood and had us waddle around like ducks, the orange-stabber actually meant that we should walk around like marching Nazis. In a public place. And then take a picture of that! While we were driving around in a van with a church emblem on it!
There was also a black girl in the youth group, and I think she was not on my team. She spoke fluent German, and I'm not sure if that makes it better, worse, or the same.
I only went to that youth group, in my teens, because I was homeschooled and wanted to socialize. I didn't go to the actual church, and my parents didn't, either. I was feeling very burnt out on church and Christianity. But I knew my bible backwards and forwards, I had some views that were a little more liberal and tolerant than the mainstream evangelical church, and I thought that the youth group was like a discussion group. Which caused a few problems because Mr. Nazi McOrangeStabber thought that it was a place where he taught the kids what to believe. Eventually, I could tell that he didn't like me.
I think part of it was that I was a girl, and was so outspoken, too. If it had been a boy, I think he would have reacted just a little bit differently. But he didn't like any kid (respectfully) questioning him, nonetheless.
I am so very glad to be rid of that group, that church, and those people. Evangelicalism is a joke. All of the plain, "normal," mainstream evangelical churches and schools I've gone to have been much worse than they seemed at first.
And most of all, they've been much worse than they thought they were. I'm glad Mr. Nazi McOrangeStabber is out of my life. If you're going to be in my life, and have those kinds of views, you had better share some of my DNA. And even then, we're not going to be close, and I will only see you when I have to. That's just the rules, because I have to protect myself, for I've been hurt many times by conservative evangelicalism. They've stabbed my orange so much that I'm still peeling back layers of foil. But I'm doing it on my own, no spouse needed. No church needed, either. And I like being without a church, or at least without their church.

"Gay" Is Not A Choice--And Neither Is "Christian"

 One of my Facebook friends posted recently about feeling very old, and a friend of his left this very interesting comment:

 I have 2 young men in their 20's and a gay son in his 50's. He introduced me to the boys and of course I am old enough to be their great grandfather both of these really intelligent young men find me fascinating both in and out of bed. I have not slept with my son bye the bye.

 I looked on this man's profile, and coincidentally, he lives only about an hour north of me (there's a small chance I might know either or both of his two lovers, and not be aware of it). He is sixty-nine and also a big marijuana enthusiast. He's an old-school, bearded, free-love hippie.
I had somewhat of a difficult time deciphering the story from that comment, but I believe that he and his son shared two younger lovers. And apparently, his son is okay with that. I thought that the funniest part was the last sentence, when he felt he had to say that he's never slept with his son. 

That was just a funny tidbit that I wanted to share. This same guy later shared a meme about gay Christianity, saying it was "proof beyond a shadow of a doubt" that "gay Christians suck." (Well, yeah, they do, but only the men!) The meme was a photo of two men hugging and laughing, over which were the words, "I am a proud, gay, Christian man. Yes, you read that right. Gay AND Christian. God loves me. Get over yourself."
I'm not sure how that proves, exactly, that anyone sucks. Except perhaps for the people who can't get over themselves.
But this reminded me of one of the Gay Christian Network's frequently asked questions, "Why identify as Christian when so many Christians are anti-gay?" 
And yet I've been asked by homophobic Christians (when arguing "as" a gay Christian--I have kind of a Christian "side," so I don't feel like I'm lying) why I call myself gay (I'm actually bisexual, but it's just easier than explaining that I see myself more with another woman). "Why not just call yourself a Christian?" one of them asked. 
These two questions both reveal a lot of ignorance and insensitivity. "Why call yourself gay?" and "Why call yourself a Christian?" can both be answered in the exact same way: Because it's something that you believe is accurate to describe yourself (why lie?), something that you feel you can't change, and something that you just identify with, for whatever reason.
If people have a personal problem with Christianity, or their own Christian past, I totally understand that (believe me--this blog's title was, and its address still is, "Atheist Journeys"--I've been there!). But religion is a lot like sexual orientation: It's something that you don't (can't) really "choose," and it's a part of people's identity. (But we still are obligated to do everything in our power to ensure that the religious do not harm or bother others--and we don't allow harmful people to decide how much they're harming others, either. One can only know how much they ARE harmed; not how much they harm others--no matter what they think God tells them!)

It took me so many years to escape the fear of hell, even when I considered myself an atheist, and after I had figured out years before that I couldn't be a devout Christian. Sometimes I still feel bothered by it, even though I was much more bothered as a born-again evangelical. 
Did I choose to believe in hell, or in God? No. And I can't make myself say, "I know God is real, I know Jesus was God," etc, even now, because I don't know for sure. I couldn't make myself not believe, and I can't myself believe, either. 
You believe what you believe, just like you love whom you love. (Again, your beliefs, and love for that matter, do NOT justify any kind of harm or discrimination whatsoever--and you don't have a right to own a business!)
Just because one gay person can leave religion behind, doesn't mean that they all can--or want to. And I don't believe Christians/theists--gay, straight, or anti-gay (which is just gay, in my opinion!)--should ever look down on non-believers, either. As long as one is not discriminating against or harming others (including their potentially gay kids, family, and friends), I don't think it matters what one believes, as far as God goes. 
LGBT people especially should be understanding and considerate of each other, whether they believe or not. We have too many people trying to tear us down. Let's not tear down each other, please. Thank you. :)

Trigger Warning: Christian Content

 This is a rather heavy subject, but I feel it needs to be addressed, because people are not talking about Christianity being a trigger for some.

My mother and I were at the county fair once, when I was in my late teens, and as we made our way to the parking lot to go home, a man in an expensive-looking suit, with the cheesiest, oiliest salesman's voice I have ever heard, approached us in the crowd.
"Hey ladies, would you care for some stimulus money? It's totally worthless, but there's a really cool gospel message on the underside," he said slickly.
"No, thank you," I said quietly, shaking my head and looking down at the ground.
"We're saved!" my mother laughed, before he could respond.
"Oh, thank God!" he exclaimed, instantly moving on the someone else.

Why had I been so quiet, looking down at the ground? Because the thought of even looking any more at that cartoon Obama made me want to cry. I couldn't even accept it from him and then throw it away, because it brought back too many painful memories. I was extremely lucky that though my mother struggled with such pain too, she was apparently strong enough to fake a certainty which we both no longer had.
I went to a conservative evangelical school as a child, and later was homeschooled with curriculum bought from that same school. The school taught me that JOY stood for "Jesus, Others, You," but judging by that standard, most of the teachers did not put Jesus first. It was not overly strict, but its constant emphasis on sin and hell made me pray often that God would not let me die if I had sins that I did not yet know about, and therefore couldn't repent from.
I did accept Christ as my Savior at an early age, and later realized that I was "supposed" to be assured of my salvation, since I know I had been sincere and Jesus paid the penalty. But I still felt like I was constantly disappointing God. I tried so hard to be a good Christian; to pray long hours; to study my bible every day; to witness to others; and to constantly talk to God in my head and never have a bad thought (that one was the most exhausting by far). And I obviously wasn't measuring up, because why else didn't I ever feel close to God?

All of this finally came to a head when I was going through an especially chaotic time in my life, around age fifteen. I begged God to show me that he was real, so that I could continue to believe in him. Or at least to show me that everything was going to be all right. Where was the "peace that passes all understanding"? What was I doing wrong, that I didn't have it? I had tried so hard over the years, and had gotten saved and rededicated my life to Christ so many times.
I'm sure you can guess what happened. For a long time I felt numb, and any mention of Christianity literally drove me to have a panic attack, or nearly so. If I saw a Christian book in a thrift shop, I had to leave the books section, quickly. If I bought a book that turned out to be Christian, by mistake, I threw it away from me as if it had burned me, and later had to throw it in the garbage or get it out of the house, quickly.
For all intents and purposes, I was much like a "demon." I had certainly been taught that an aversion to Christianity was an indication of evil. And that didn't help my self-image.
It was only years later that I could stand to even think about Christianity at all, much less write about it. It still makes me want to cry sometimes, to think deeply of my "failure" to be a Christian and the terrible way my religious upbringing made me feel about myself.

 Yes, I have been hurt by Christians, and certain forms of evangelical Christianity (which every evangelical Christian reader will probably, sadly, interpret as someone else's tradition). I try to be honest about that, wherever it leads me. And to some people, that will only "prove" that I'm whatever I am now (though sometimes I don't even know) because I hate God.
And yet the same people who say that we must forgive everybody (regardless of whether they repent or not), believe that hurt is always and automatically followed by hate.
And the same people who say that "it's not a religion, it's a relationship," believe that "God" is the same exact thing as "Christianity" or "religion." Or at least, they think that I have grown up in Christianity, and would still be stupid enough to conflate the two.
I don't blame God for what happened. But I've used up my last little bit of faith trying to believe, and be a good Christian, and I've learned the hard way that that is sometimes simply not enough. And that for whatever reason, God didn't or couldn't help me to believe. Whatever relationship I have with God, if such a being exists, is now up to God, not me.
And I don't necessarily think, especially now, that I am far away from God, if God exists. But it still hurts to be condemned for being hurt, and wanting that hurt out of my life--as I know some would do, if they knew this about me.

Christian And "Christian"

I mentioned recently that anti-gay Christians want me to deny Christ, when I argue as a gay Christian. They brag that they would never, ever, EVER deny Christ, under penalty of torture or death, then they try to get me to do just that, because I don't fit their exact definition of a Christian.
Whenever I come across these awful people, my first thought is, "I know I'm more 'Christian' than they are!" I use this word to mean two different things, in my own mind, but in this case, I believe that I am a kinder and less angry person than they are. And probably closer to what Jesus actually taught.
I think of the word "Christian" sometimes to mean devoutness, or certainty. I am not as devout in behavior as some of my gay Christian friends, or as certain as them about God's existence.
But I also think of the word "Christian," to refer to one's character, behavior towards others, or likely closeness to what I believe Jesus's message really was.
I don't read the bible, and I don't offer up formal prayers. My reasons are that doing those things only makes me feel as frustrated and inadequate as a Christian as I felt for years while doing those things. It's "triggering," emotionally tiring, and upsetting for me. So I'm less devout, apparently, than some of my gay and affirming Christian friends (and I don't have Christian friends who aren't one of those things; the only anti-gay Christians I see, share some DNA with me, and I only see them when I have to).
But someone said to be as good and all-knowing as God, would know that it's not because I hate him, or whatever people want to accuse me of. I hope that God is real, if God is as I suspect, but I'm not going to count on that. I've trusted God--and nothing else--to catch me before, and have fallen really hard and gotten hurt.
I don't tell the people I occasionally argue with on the internet all of this, because it would instantly destroy my credibility with them (not that it's in great shape, anyway!), as well as that of much more devout gay Christians than I. It also has nothing to do with my sexuality, and it's none of their business.
But as far as being "Christian" (close to God, like Christ) goes, I think it involves much more than just the works. Paul talked about doing good works (not even praying and reading the bible, but actual good works like feeding the poor), "but if I have not love, I am nothing."
And the thing about love is, if the person you love doesn't feel loved, then you might as well not love them. It benefits no one, if your loved one feels unloved.
The next world may exist, but this one does exist. Anti-gay Christians are hurting people in this world, in the hopes of helping them in the next one (at best). But there may not be a next one.
In my research, I have found only two instances in scripture where Jesus actually told people to stop sinning. In one, he had just healed a man of chronic illness. In the other, he had just saved a sinful woman's life. He earned the right to talk about other people's sin, even though scripture says he was sinless himself. How many LGBT people can say that an anti-gay Christian saved their life, or made their lives better in a very significant way?
Jesus even told a man (the one lowered in from the roof) that his sins were forgiven, before the man had even said anything about repenting. He told sinners that "your faith has saved you," and "your faith has made you well." He did not even say "your repentance has saved you."
Jesus was not as "hard on sin" (and by that, they always mean the sins of others, never their own!) as some Christians want to think. The "goats" were condemned for their unkindness, the virgins for their unreadiness, the Pharisees for their hypocrisy--but as far as I can recall, no one was condemned for their actual sin. Jesus also said that "prostitutes and sinners will enter the kingdom of heaven before you," to the religious leaders. He did not say "repentant prostitutes and sinners..."
And if he was talking constantly about other people's sins, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have gotten invited to parties with sinners, much less had a great following among them.
I don't think Jesus would be like the people who talk about other people's sins (though never their own), and that's why I can think of myself as more "Christian" than them. If I'm wrong, then at least I tried to love people, and not hurt them in this life--which is the only life we are really guaranteed.
Like I said, the next world may exist, but this one does exist. So we shouldn't be hurting each other in this one, just because of our fear of the next one.

The Lesbian Coworker

When I was about fourteen, my mother and I were both evangelicals (and had pretty much identical beliefs, because we talked endlessly about Christianity, hypocrisy, etc). She got a new job, right around the time that Massachusetts was in the headlines for issuing marriage licenses to gay couples. You can probably predict how we felt about that.
One of my mother's new coworkers was a lesbian. "She has a 'wife,'" my mother told me, saying "wife" in a slightly different way than the other words.
This coworker, whom I will call Connie, had a hard time of it, because most of the people in that office, including the boss and the boss's boss, were evangelical Christians. I remember being surprised to learn that fact, at the time, since this was an office of the local Native American tribe. Even then, it struck me as strange that those with heavily Native American bloodlines apparently did not embrace the spiritual traditions of their culture. But I had been taught that Christianity was always a good thing, so I didn't think much about that.
From what I heard, Connie's lesbianism came up relatively often. My mom told the story of the office receptionist (a Christian, of course) remarking in one such conversation, "Yeah, I like you, Connie, and you're the first one of those I've met."
"'One of those'?" I repeated, astonished. Even then, I knew that that was most definitely the wrong way to put it.
"Yeah, 'one of those'!" my mom laughed. Though remembering the story now, it makes me cringe, as it probably now would for my mom. Ugh.
My mom brought black licorice candy to work one day, offering it to her coworkers. All of them declined it, hated it, declaring their love for "red licorice." (One of my biggest pet peeves, as "red licorice" does not occur in nature--come on, people, we don't have to say "white vanilla" or talk about "brown vanilla" when we really mean chocolate; say strawberry, for goodness' sake, that's what you really like!).
"Is that black licorice?" Connie asked, walking by. "Can I have some? I love black licorice!" she explained, taking some.
"You like black licorice?" my mom asked. "Connie, you're my kind of woman!" she declared, throwing an arm around her and squeezing.
Another time, my mother and I were going somewhere, and I asked her why I had to move the passenger seat up in her car.
"Connie was sitting there, today. She's really tall. We were carpooling, since we both come from the same direction for work," she answered.
My mom recounted how Connie told her of their boss saying, "I don't approve of your lifestyle," and then, upon learning that Connie's wife was trying to get pregnant, "'she said she would pray for me, and I found that highly offensive!'"
"Yeah, I can see why it would be offensive," my mom had replied. "I hope you and Catherine do get pregnant."
I was a little surprised that my mom had said these things.
"I do hope they get pregnant," she explained, "because they have something missing in their lives, and they think a baby would help, but then when they get a baby, they'll still have something missing, you know what I mean?"
I knew what she meant. It amazes me, now, to think that we actually thought this way. We thought it would be best for her if she was dissatisfied in life.
A few months later, Connie was fired. Her position was supposedly cut.
"I hope she consults a lawyer," my mom said. "If she thinks it was because she was a lesbian, she could get compensated for that."
I thought it was because of that, and I still do. I didn't think it was fair, though I must admit that because I believed she was sinning, at the time, that I don't now think I had enough empathy.
We live in one of the relatively few states (Oregon) where employers are not allowed to discriminate based on sexual orientation. But how do you prove that it was because of that? The only practical effect of the law is that employers have to find an acceptable excuse, and can't mention sexual orientation.
And what to do when it's another government--a Native American tribe--and essentially another country? Is the fact that they receive federal funding sufficient grounds to make them not discriminate? Or are they truly sovereign? I have so many questions, but I'm afraid to bother the Lambda Legal people about something that happened ten years ago and doesn't affect me personally.
Connie didn't pursue legal action, as far as I know.
A lot has changed in ten years, with my mom and me, too. I am glad that we're both out of that desperate, evangelical Christian funk. My mom says she wished that she had saved her money and not sent me to Christian school in the early years. She has even said that if she could sue them and get her money back, she would do it!
Even though I knew that that school was full of unhappy hypocrites, the effects of five years at that "normal," mainstream, Protestant Christian school made me miserable for years afterward. I know I would have loved to embrace LGBTQ rights, if I wasn't so worried about getting close to God and not going to hell for agreeing with "sin." I was uneasy about a lot of things, in those days.
A lot has changed in ten years, with a small majority (about two-thirds) of Americans now being for marriage equality (from what I've read), so I know that my mother and I were not the only ones who have changed. I can only hope that this trend continues, because other than what's right, I know firsthand the fear that people who are against marriage equality (and other LGBTQ rights) feel--fear that God will be angry and forsake or punish America, fear that everything will change and they won't know how to react to it, fear that they will end up agreeing with LGBTQ people and then go to hell for it, etc.
I wish I could lighten people's burdens on this subject (for so many reasons!), but when people are fearing for their souls, they are not going to listen to even fellow believers, at least not at first. (I have to fight them any way I can, though, when I encounter them, because I don't want them to hurt other people.) For some people, the only thing that works, if anything actually will work, is time.
Or, well, um...death. Which I suppose is a side effect of time...

My Family

 This is an old post, that I forgot to publish. It was written right after the shooting at my school, Umpqua Community College. It's just some miscellaneous thoughts about my evangelical relatives.

At a family reunion recently, I sat on the floor, and my second cousin's two-year-old grandson started sharing his grapes with me--literally, the same grapes. He was biting grapes in half and putting the pieces directly into my mouth. It brought him such apparent joy to feed the hungry, that I figured I could take immune system supplements later. He kept saying, "apple, apple," while doing it. That's close enough, I guess.

My cousin, whom I call Blue-Butt, was there.
"Hey, Blue!" I almost said, excitedly, "You know your favorite teacher's getting married?! He just proposed to his boyfriend a few days ago--on the boyfriend's birthday!"
I almost said this, because I'm now friends with his favorite high school teacher on Facebook. But then I remembered that I was neck-deep in evangelicals sharing my DNA, so I decided not to say anything. At least not then.

I had a terrifying nightmare the other night, probably because of the recent shooting. I dreamed that my youngest cousin, Red-Butt, had cancer, and wasn't doing anything to get better or start treatments.
"Yeah, I smoke about eight or nine packs of cigarettes a day," he said casually, blowing out a stream of smoke.
I am not sure that that's even possible. Is it physically possible to smoke eight or nine packs of cigarettes a day? It's not like I want to try it.
I woke up terrified, even though Red has never smoked in his life, as far as I know. And the only thing he's done to purposefully harm himself, to my knowledge, was waxing his legs with duct tape and screaming like a little girl to get attention. Twice.
The closest thing he's done to smoking, that I know of, was buy a pack when he turned eighteen and give them to a homeless person. He specifically said that that was what he wanted to do: Buy a pack of cigarettes and give them to a homeless person.
I looked at him closely at the family reunion. He didn't appear to be in ill health. It must have been the shooting that gave me nightmares.

My Late Great Aunt's two daughters were here from another state (I call her my Late Great Aunt because she was really into the end times, and it wouldn't surprise me if she read or watched Hal Lindsey). They inevitably started talking about her literal "last days."
"She was doing that bible study, and they were doing Revelations next. She really wanted to do Revelations. And I was just saying, she doesn't need to do that, because now she's living it. She has all the answers now," one of them said.
Or she could just not know anything anymore, I thought. I hoped I was wrong, somehow, but I found it sad that so many people were counting on an afterlife that may not exist. I was silent, and my extended family does not know that I seriously doubt, at least sometimes, whether there is an afterlife or a god.
"I knew she wouldn't want us to resuscitate her. She had everything planned for her own funeral. She had picked out her favorite hymns, and we had a church service right there. We had an alter call, because that's what she would have wanted. Three people came to the Lord at that service. You should watch the DVD," my relative went on.
It felt weird, hearing about something that would have warmed my heart twelve years ago, but which I now found tragic. Why would anyone need to "come to the Lord" unless they were believed to be in danger of hell? My LGA had the sunniest disposition, and maybe the fewest reasons to have one, of anyone I had ever met.
I guess she never thought of the implications of her scary End Times/hellfire-and-brimstone beliefs. Either that, or the thought of other people perishing in hell just didn't drag her down. I guess you've always got to look on the positive side of things.
I feel rather snarky, when thinking about that, but I really do love her. She was so very nice. And I hope she's at peace, and living on, somehow. But sometimes, my family makes me sad, when they don't wish to fight for the one life they know they have. I guess that's what they've got me for, to nag them. That's something, I guess. 

The Other Question Homophobes Don't Want To Answer

A few weeks ago, I talked about homophobic Christians who wanted to sentence gay people to a lifetime of loneliness and celibacy, while they themselves wanted marriage and sex. I found out that they don't like it when I say, "If it bothers you that gay people do not commit to lifelong celibacy, then I invite you to lead by example."
They either try to ignore it and argue other points, in which case I force them to answer me, threatening to stop engaging with them if they don't--or the conversation ends right there! I have never had a homophobic person answer my challenge, unless I forced them to do it. Much less actually commit to lifelong celibacy. One guy threw a fit and left, and another guy in the same conversation quietly dropped out, not wanting what I was serving to his buddy.
But I have recently found yet another question, that is like Homophobe Repellent in a can. And it really surprised me. I thought for sure that it would be a very easy one to answer, even if they were saying, "Yes, of course! But I'm still right!"
But I've trotted it out a few times, and have never gotten a response to it. When I tried to force one guy to answer it, he left, and I haven't heard from him in almost a whole day--very unusual for him. He seems to have left the conversation.
This question is, "Are you open to God's leading, in case you are wrong on this issue?"
I thought this would be simple, a no-brainer. I always said, when arguing "as" a gay Christian (and yes, I know this blog's web address has the word "atheist" in the title, but it's complicated, and I don't feel like I'm lying), "I am open to God's leading, if I am wrong. Are YOU open to God's leading, in case you are wrong?"
And apparently, they are not.
Now, I honestly don't know what I would do, if I found out God was in fact anti-gay. But I think that would be morally wrong, no matter who did it. It is wrong to throw people in hell for something that harms no one and actually brings a lot of love and joy to millions of people--including the children who would not exist (surrogates) or not have a home otherwise (adoption).
 I know that the "right" thing would be to defy God, even if it meant hell. But I don't know what I'd actually do. But regardless of that conflict, I do want to know the truth, whatever it is.
And these people apparently don't. I get no answer at all, not even one in which they say yes, but then tell me how right they are.
I hope that this is a good sign. I hope that this means that I'm making them think. But I can't know for sure.
I like to say, "If you think you can't be wrong, then you might as well call yourself God and worship yourself." No one is perfect but God, after all. I've never gotten any response to this statement, either.

I'm going to try to figure out why they don't answer me. But how to do that? They may not give me an honest answer, or any answer. And I'm not sure I should press it, if I am making them think.
When I was trying so hard to get close to God, I prayed almost constantly, "God, just show me the truth, whatever it is." I always liked to ask, "What if God/the bible/Christianity/Jesus is actually like this...?" I always wondered what pastors or evangelicals got wrong, and if they were wrong on big and small issues. I thought it was terrible to not try to find out whatever was the truth, in spite of your own traditions and biases.
I guess that was rare. Of course I thought I could be sinning by asking too many questions, but I hoped God would understand that I was just trying to find the truth.
I'm still just trying to find the truth, and I will never stop searching, no matter how certain I feel that I've found it. Life is a constant learning process, and if you don't learn, you will stagnate. I think that's true of one's spiritual life as well, if one has a spiritual life.
And I trust that if God is real, and he or she is good, that they will know that I'm just trying to find the truth, and to love others and not hurt them. I trust God more than most conservative Christians I've encountered, in fact. :)

The Rapture: If LaHaye Reads The Scriptures Wrong, You're Screwed

My mom related a conversation she had had once with a cousin of hers, who had a church softball game the next day.
"What are you going to do if it's rained out?" my mom asked.
"I'm just believing that it's not going to be!" she answered determinedly.
"Oh, boy!" I responded, when told that story. "That's her contingency plan? She would so much fun at the end of the world!"
"I'm just believing it's not going to happen!" my mom mimicked.
So many Christians do this all the time, thinking that their faith is going to thwart an all-powerful God's plan. It's almost like witchcraft, trying to use God to influence things in your favor, without even asking her. And if they do this for the little things, why wouldn't they do this for the big things?
The thing is, with the End Times, some people believe that the Rapture will happen in the middle of the seven-year tribulation, and some people (like myself, IF there is an End Times, which is a whole other issue) believe that there is no Rapture, that scripture doesn't talk that clearly about a Rapture (after all, Jesus mentions dead bodies and vultures and stuff too).
So, if Tim LaHaye of the Left Behind series, or your other favorite prophecy person, is wrong, and you've made no contingency plans for a late Rapture or no Rapture, then you're screwed. You're also screwed, if one of their complicated "taking the bible literally" charts has a misprint. (Like the Mark Twain quote, that if you read self-help books you could die from a misprint.)
But, I guess you can simply "believe" that the End Times won't happen to you. I'm sure that will keep God's inevitable End Times plans, that he has literally had worked out since before the beginning of time...at bay. :)
And heck, if LaHaye, or whoever else you like, can't possibly be wrong, then why not just cut out the middleman? Just call LaHaye God and worship him. After all, you have to be perfect, in order to never be wrong, and most Christians believe that only God can be perfect.
But that's just my smarmy rant. Take it for what you will. :)

The Little Gay Girl In Christian School

I went to a very conservative Christian school when I was younger, then homeschooled through that same school, starting in fifth grade. This was the late 90s and early 2000s, and it surprises me how little I heard of LGBT issues back then. It also surprises me how very un-homophobic my conservative Christian (at the time) mother was. (My dad didn't really have an opinion, or didn't seem to.)
I remember knowing what "gay" was before I started first grade. I thought it was so silly that some boys liked other boys, and some girls liked other girls. I remember thinking that it caused a lot of problems, since you don't know who "dips" whom when the couple is dancing on a date.
Or who wears a dress when they are getting married. That was a problem, even though you could simply take turns dipping each other. I concluded that it must be that one boy decided he was okay with wearing the wedding dress. It's not a real wedding without a big fancy dress, after all. Maybe there were even boys who wanted to wear the dress. Maybe they both wore a dress. It would be such a very sad and pathetic wedding, after all, if there wasn't a big fancy dress to look at.
With girls, they must both wear a dress. Who wouldn't take the opportunity, after all? And it might be an even better wedding with TWO pretty dresses!
I finally concluded that they must talk about what they each want, and work something out for both of them.
"Do you want me to dip you?" I imagined one boy saying to another. "Or do you dip me?"
"I'll pay for the meal this time, and you pay for the meal next time."
"I know you wanted to wear the dress, but I want to wear a dress, too. We should have two dresses. Okay?"
I surmised at around age six that communication was very important to same-sex relationships. I didn't see the Disney princesses saying "Do you want me to kiss you?" or "Do you want to wear a dress when we get married?" but I'm beginning to think now that they most certainly should have! The modern princess should not be afraid to ask, "Do you want me to rescue you, or do you want to rescue me? Here's what I would prefer..."

I married my Barbies to each other, when I got bored of straight weddings. I wondered what Ken would look like in a dress, though most Barbie dresses I had didn't even fit him. It was a bummer. 

My mom must have explained what "gay" was to me, though I don't remember that. And she must not have said anything negative about gay people, because I never thought anything bad of it, except that it was "silly" ( though straight relationships seemed silly sometimes), and that it was problematic because one did not automatically know who did or wore what.
She must have simply said that some boys liked each other, and some girls liked each other--because that's what I knew of it. That's the most liberal and neutral was to phrase it, that I can think of. And she apparently thought it was a sin, at the time. But she was still tolerant, and still not condemning, even letting me draw my own conclusions at six years old. That's my mom.
My mom in later years said that a neighbor of ours remarked one time, "That stupid Anita Bryant! It's none of her business, how other people live their lives!" And my mom remembered thinking that that made a lot of sense.

I remember one time playing around and laughing in my parents' bed, while both of them were lying down. Everyone was laughing and joking, and at one point, I jokingly said that someone or some couple (I forget who) was gay. My mom smiled and said, "You better say, 'homosexual,' instead. That's a better word."
But I knew instantly that I could NOT say that word, because: 1) It was too big a word for me to possibly remember, and 2) It had the word "sex" in it, which was a very, very bad word!
My dad said, "No, it's okay to say 'gay.' That's not a bad word." Then they talked about it for a minute and agreed, and I was relieved. I didn't have to say the word "sex," and I didn't have to use a word I didn't even remember or know how to pronounce. And I had never thought that "gay" could be associated with "sex," either. That didn't really change my views on it, I don't think.
(The only time I ever got brave enough to say the word "sex" was when I saw Monica Lewinski on TV, and I remember I whispered, "Daddy, what's oral sex?" I've been told he said, "It means she kissed his peepee.")

Then I went to Christian school, starting in first grade when I was seven. I made a pact with my best friend at the time that, if we grew up to be like the boys who married boys, or the girls who married girls, that we would marry each other. Yes, it was my idea. I'm not entirely sure that she knew about those people, before I said something, though she did agree.
I remember telling at least one teacher there. She said something like, "Oh, okay." She must have been surprised, or speechless. I also told my mom. She said about the same thing, or maybe nothing, though she didn't care as much. The grownups around me didn't respond much, either positively or negatively.
(And surprise, surprise, I grew up to be bisexual!)

I never thought anything of gay marriage at the time (in 1998, when I started first grade at age seven). I never thought of marriage licenses or who could get them. And I never thought that God didn't like gay people or couples. No one ever even mentioned that possibility to me at the time, even in the Christian school.
If I was going to school in first grade, now, I think I would have a very different experience. Gay rights were not making headway then like they are now (and thank goodness they are now). Children of conservative parents grow up today in a totally different environment, and they probably would not be so free with accepting gay people and couples, or thinking that one day they might themselves be gay.
There is more pressure among conservatives nowadays, I believe, to be against homosexuality. I think that is sad, even for those who feel they have to be against it. (But I still have to fight even those I pity, so that they don't harm others!) Fortunately, more and more Christians are becoming accepting, slowly but surely.

A few years later, when I was about ten or eleven, I would know that being gay was considered bad. But I would also watch Will & Grace with my mom, and laugh along with her. It was a rather complicated situation, but eventually I learned that I could be affirming, even as a Christian.
 I was so happy when I learned that. I am convinced that being against something, that does not harm anyone and brings love and joy, really takes its toll on the happiness of the person who is against it.
When I was six years old, everything seemed so simple; everything made sense--just marry whomever you loved, even if it was "silly." Maybe someday the whole world, or at least most of it, can be so simple.

Jesus Was Bisexual (According To The Bi-ble)

"Jesus was bi, this I know
For the Bi-ble tells me so
'Tempted in every way, without sin,'
But straight guys don't like other men!"


I wrote an additional lyric to the famous "Jesus Loves Me" song. I was inspired to write that verse after remembering that the New Testament says that Jesus was "tempted in every way, like as we are, but without sin."   (And this is to say nothing of the young man wearing only a shirt, who appeared when Jesus was being arrested--or of the "disciple whom Jesus loved"!)
Normally, I really hate when people take one single verse out of context, but I have researched it, and I see absolutely nothing, in the context of the text, to contradict what was just said. Jesus was tempted in every way, like as we are. And the writer does not indicate that he is only addressing straight people. 
If one believes in sexual sin (which I don't, as long as it's between fully consenting adults and harms no one), then one cannot escape the conclusion that Jesus tempted in that way, too. And therefore, if gay sex is a sin (not my beliefs, but the belief of some people), then Jesus was tempted to do it. And the very definition of being straight, is that one is only attracted to the opposite sex. 

I have shared this with probably dozens of people over the past few months, since making this discovery, and so many people simply don't understand (or don't want to understand) what I'm talking about. 
They think I am saying that he had actual gay sex. They don't know the difference between sexual orientation, and sexual behavior, which are not necessarily the same thing. They think that one has to fuck their way into the gay club, to put it bluntly. 
One person even flat-out denied that Jesus was tempted in every way. He explained that Jesus was only tempted in the way that was strongest for him. In other words, he read the meaning, "tempted in ONE way," into the phrase, "tempted in EVERY way"!  
Now, the bible could very well be translated wrong (and it is, when it comes to the "gay-bashing" verses), but as far as I know, there is nothing to indicate that the phrase "every way" means anything but "every way." (If someone has found evidence for that, I would love to see it, please. Thank you.)

 I believe anti-gay Christians' reluctance to accept their gay Savior comes from two sources: 

1) They are simply uncomfortable with the idea of any Christian, much less Christ, being gay. 

2) They themselves have been tempted by the same sex, at one time or another, and they still want to think of themselves as 100% straight.  

The awful people refuse to accept the idea that one can be gay and a virgin, just as one can be straight and a virgin. Which forces me to conclude that they are not actually against certain sex acts, but against the people who are tempted to have such sex acts. (Or, that they would prefer LGBT people to lie, and say that they are straight, or lie by omission and let people assume that they are straight.)
And when I think about the fact that Jesus befriended prostitutes, tax collectors, and other sinners (and no doubt some of them were LGBTQ), Christians' discomfort with LGBTQ people makes them look nothing like the person they claim they want to emulate the most.
And it makes me wonder...what if Jesus himself told them that? What if they found out that, indeed, their Savior is not straight (or asexual) as they picture him? Would they then accept LGBT people--or would they turn their backs on them--and therefore, on him? 
I'm not sure I truly want to know the answer to that question. Luckily, more and more Christians and other religious people are accepting LGBT people. And some of most loving and joyful people I know are gay Christians--though normally, I have found such joy to be very rare among those who are the most devout and church-going. But the gay and affirming Christians I have seen most definitely have what is called the Fruit of the Spirit--love, joy, peace, self-control, and all of the rest, which the homophobes are very much lacking in. 
That is why I am convinced that being against LGBT people/love/relationships/etc, makes one very unhappy, whether they "want" to be against it, or not. I know I was very unhappy when I thought I "had" to be anti-gay. And I thank God, if there is a God, that I now know that I don't "have" to believe that way.
I know that I tried so very hard to be a good Christian, at one time. And I know that I was sincere. I didn't just "forget" to pray the sinner's prayer and mean it. So if there is a Savior, then I have a Savior. And if I have a Savior, then that Savior was (and maybe still is) bisexual--like me! :)

How To Deal With Bigots And Awful People, Without Feeling Awful

I have a very kind gay Christian friend, whose husband recently shared on Facebook that an old work colleague had recently contacted him to remember the good times she had had working with him (my mom says this was probably a ruse, since this woman had probably heard he was divorced and thought he was newly single and ready to Christian mingle). He told her all that was going on his life. Hours later, she contacted him again, saying that her Christian witness was damaged if she didn't "call you out on your lifestyle."
He went on:

With all the love and gentleness I could muster, I explained to her that being gay isn't a choice. That for many years I tried to pray away the gay. That I had lost my biological family because they can't condone my lifestyle either. And that what had damaged her witness with me was that she felt the need to change from loving me to feeling the need to call me out as a sinner.
The church in general, and evangelical Christians in particular, have no idea how much they hurt LGBT people!


 I don't know that I fully agree with him. I think for the most part, the church knows how much they hurt LGBT people. But they think their loving God makes them.
When I come across these people (though I try to avoid them, whenever possible), I find myself saying things like, "I don't need your permission to be a Christian or have a relationship with God." And, "If it bothers you that gay people do not commit to lifelong celibacy, then I invite you to lead by example."

But those things are only what I say to other people. What matters even more, is what I say to myself.
There are negative messages coming from these people, to me. So I have to counteract them with positive messages, from me. I have to be on my own side, even if the awful people are not.
Through gathering signatures for my atheist club at school (when I thought of myself as an atheist), and finding a way to combat nervousness, I learned how to say the same thing to myself, over and over again in my mind. This skill has come in handy, in more ways than one.
So I have a secret weapon, to build myself up, when the bullies and awful people wish to tear me down and make me doubt myself. And the best part is, these people don't even know that I'm using it. They don't even know that I have it--maybe they don't even know that it exists. If you yourself are in a bad situation, you can use this to combat the negative messages that you are receiving, and regain your confidence and love of yourself.
My secret weapon (or rather, my secret shield) is this: I say to myself, over and over again in my own mind, "I love you AJ, I love you AJ, I love you AJ," constantly, dozens of times, as many times as I need to, in order to feel better.
I did share what I did, with my friend quoted above, and I hope it helped. It certainly has helped me.
It puts a barrier between myself and others. It reminds me that I am on my own side, even if they aren't.
Sometimes when I'm lying in bed, especially--when I have no distractions--I use this technique. I don't just use the one phrase, either.

"God is glad, he made me gay," I remind myself.
"Everything will be all right."
"I did everything I could for him," when thinking about my late cat, and feeling guilty.
"It's a game," when thinking about work, and feeling unproductive.
And always, "I love you AJ, I love you AJ, I love you AJ," when I don't feel I am being treated with love, by others.
I'm sure you can think of other things, to use for yourself.

I do this when I'm not even being judged, too. Any time I need to feel better, I do this. And it's made me feel a lot better.
I try to avoid negative statements, such as "They don't matter," because I'm afraid my subconscious brain will only understand positive statements, and think that they do matter. But anything else that helps, I use that (because I think that if God is good, then he has no problem with LGBT people--and if he does have a problem, then he's not good--and not to be flippant, but in that case, I don't want to know him anyway). And in this one life I know I have, I want to love myself, and be completely at peace with myself. And if I have to believe something, then it's going to be that I am just fine the way I am.

"I'm just fine, the way I am. I'm just fine, the way I am. I'm just fine, the way I am..."

Christians Want Me To Deny Christ

I try to avoid arguments whenever possible, but when I stumble across awful people on the internet making awful statements, I feel compelled to respond, if I can, and at least try to help make the world a better place.
I try not to be nasty, but sometimes I am just as obnoxious as they are (even if they don't know they're being obnoxious). I most often argue with anti-gay Christians, as a gay Christian.
I don't even know what I am sometimes, other than just me, but I know that I'm more "Christian" than the arrogant, angry homophobes I come across once in a while. I know that if there is a God, then I'm much closer to  him or her than they are--or, if I'm wrong, that God is someone I don't want to be close to.
Some of them are "sad" that LGBT people don't want to give up their "sin." 
 "If you are so bothered by gay people not committing to lifelong celibacy," I often suggest, "then I invite you to lead by example."
So far, I've gotten no response from my polite suggestion, except for the first time I suggested it, when I was already talking to someone. That time, the person tried to ignore it, because he was a horny little coward, but I didn't let him.
I don't mean to sound obnoxious, but what they are saying--basically that God plays favorites, with more rules for LGBT people--is very obnoxious indeed. I hope to show them what a sacrifice they're asking other people to make.
But lately, most of the people I've come across are not even at that level of understanding when it comes to gay Christianity. So I have to teach them, first, that being gay is not a sin, just like being straight is not a sin.
And I've found a disturbing pattern, with these Side X (good Christian men love pussy/good Christian women want the dick) people. I recently got into a discussion (over now, thankfully) with several of them, and as I recall, all of them wanted me to do something, that they likely brag that they themselves would refuse to do under torture and penalty of death.
These good Christian people want me to deny Christ.
I call myself a gay Christian in arguments, because I believe I'm more "Christian" than them, at least. And I know that there are others who are LGBT and who try harder than me to get close to and please God, so I don't really feel bad or like I'm lying.
The people I argue with say that one can't be gay and a Christian. So my choice, according to them, is to either deny Christ, or to lie and say I'm straight (or lie by omission, and let people assume). They wouldn't put it that way--deny Christ or lie--but what they don't realize is that they're asking me to do just that.
One person asked me why I didn't just call myself a Christian, instead of a gay Christian. I replied that usually, I do just call myself a Christian (when I "feel" Christian, but that's not any of his business), but that we were talking about homosexuality, for crying out loud, and I wasn't going to lie and say (or let people assume) that I was straight.
 I read the Left Behind series when I was thirteen, about twelve years ago, and though I subscribed then almost wholly to LeHaye and Jenkins' views on the world and the end times, something in the books rang false to me even then. When the One World Church was established in these books, I remember that Christianity (plain, Protestant, non-Mormon, etc, Christianity) was left out. There was no representative from the Christian church, and so Christianity was not included under the Antichrist's One World umbrella.
"That's stupid!" I thought. "There will be some kind of Christian presence there, even if it's a false one!"
Now, all of the Real True Christians had been raptured to heaven at that point, but there would still be some kind of Christian presence there. At the time, I thought the false version would be the progressive, pro-choice, gay-affirming version of Christianity. But now, if there is to be any end times and any One World Church (a question to speculate on another day), I believe it would somehow include traditional evangelicalism, which is still very popular in the U.S.
This is the same system of belief that, when taken to one of its most extreme forms, says that gay people cannot be Christian (even if they're completely celibate and don't even lust), and must somehow change the unchangeable (unchangeable according to actual lived experiences of sincere gay Christians, not just speculation by straight Christians, or the rare "ex-gay" story that they think disproves thousands of other stories to the contrary). Not even LaHaye and Jenkins themselves subscribe to this idea, if their use of the phrase "practicing homosexual" in the novels is any indication.
It goes even further, too. One of Ted Cruz's favorite preachers calls for executing gay people, and all those who say that it's okay to be gay to possibly gay children. (I don't want to look up links for that upsetting news, please don't make me. But I know that it's probably not false, as it seems very genuine.) He's not the only one, too, not by a long shot.
So, if there ever is a nightmarish, apocalyptic scenario, like some people think the bible predicts, is it not too far-fetched to believe that Christians may be torturing other Christians, in order to get them to deny Christ?
People are already trying to get me to deny Christ, because of my bisexuality. They think it would be more "honest" of me to do so, so that's their justification for trying to goad me into it (though I tell them, "I don't need your permission to be a Christian, or have a relationship with God"; I often have to tell the same person many times!).
So, if you combine the idea that gays can't be Christians, with the idea that gays should be executed for being gay, and maybe throw in the belief that hell is even worse torture, and that man-made torture in this life could save someone from it...
Then that's how you get Christians to torture other Christians, in order to get them to deny Christ--with or without the other option of lying by "denouncing" one's innate sexuality. They would want LGBT Christians to deny what they believe God has done in their lives, by making them born again (and anti-gay Christians do want them/us to do that, even now).
And the worst part?
A lot of these Christians would be torturing other Christians out of love. Trying to get others to deny the Savior they themselves proudly claim...out of love and concern for the souls of "the lost."
Most anti-gay Christians would deny right now, when life is relatively easy, that they would do something like that. But when the Antichrist is also breathing down your neck, and you believe that other Christians are "lost," and any one of you could get killed at any time for claiming to be Christian (even if you believe that your LGBT friend or loved one is a false Christian), I believe that scared anti-gay Christians would do some things that are very drastic, and possibly very violent.
Assuming, of course, that it came to all of this. I don't believe Revelation was predicting what a lot people think it was, maybe even not predicting anything for modern readers at all. But that's a subject for another day.

Christians (And Atheists) Don't Trust Themselves

I've heard some atheists say before that, if they had a spiritual experience, they would assume that they were hallucinating or that they had lost their minds. This strikes me as strange, since I spent so much of my life suppressing my own instincts and gut feelings, because I was afraid of going to hell and being a bad person/Christian. When people get free of that, wouldn't they want to finally trust themselves?
Other people say that it's not logical to go with your own experiences, over what other people tell you is logical or correct. Just like fundamentalist Christians tell you that you can't trust your own instincts about right and wrong, over what the bible apparently says.
I have seen some people denigrate the spiritual experience of a nice gay universalist Christian friend of mine, who said that he had a vision of Christ on the cross and that that's when he became truly born again after being a "wet Baptist" all his life. I came to his defense, even though I considered myself an atheist at the time, because what else is he supposed to go on, than his own experiences? He says that everyone will eventually have some kind of experience like that, and be as certain as him--and so far, I am not as certain as him and have not had any spiritual experiences. He may very well be wrong--but that doesn't mean that he's wrong to trust his own instincts and experiences.
 Why would atheists not trust their own instincts? After all, I became an atheist to get away from this crap. I'm not saying it's wrong to think that a "spiritual experience" was not in fact spiritual, but automatically assuming, in spite of your own instincts, is.
I was so miserable, for so many years, because I thought I was bound to a "literal" interpretation of the bible, and that if I wanted to see women being pastors or gays getting married, that I would literally burn for it. I went against my own instincts about rightness and justice, and I hated it! I was betraying my own conscience, because of my fears.
I later found out that biblical scholars have a few theories for how God inspired the bible, and that some allowed for imperfect human or cultural influence. That was such a relief, when I read that, in a Christian school textbook of all places! I was free! I couldn't believe that I didn't have to hurt others because of whom they loved, or limit my own potential just because of my vagina. It was almost too good to be true, but I had been a prisoner to fundamentalism so long, that I jumped at the chance to be free from it. I could let God, or my God-given conscience, guide me directly, even about the bible. I can't stress enough how freeing it was to learn that I didn't have to hurt other people, or myself, for God.
What the atheists do, does not come with the terrifying threat of hell, but it is oppressive to me, nonetheless. Why rely on what other people tell you is most likely to be true? I never was much for anti-apologetics arguments, because I could just look at my own life, and know that I had not had the experience of feeling close to God, as I had been promised I would have, if I was born again (which is why I "got saved" so many times, until I sensed a pattern and got tired of the pattern).
I don't consider myself an atheist anymore, at least not very much of one. But atheists other nonbelievers have the potential for freedom, here, and throw it all away. They can be free to trust their own instincts, but some choose to trust what other people tell them is most logical or likely. Why would anyone do that to themselves?
I am so very relieved to get away from fundamentalism and evangelicalism. And sometimes I read articles by LGBT-affirming and universalist Christians, and I think that maybe I can have what I've always wanted. That is the sense of being close to God, and having a relationship with God that brings me joy, and not grief and anxiety about not being a good enough or "real" Christian.
But I don't try very hard to get close to God anymore, if there is someone there. I got free from trying to pray and read the bible even though I was absolutely sick of both activities--and other ways in which I shoved down my true feelings and gave in to the fear which was instilled in me by others all of my life. I don't try to believe or have faith at all, either, because that would not really be believing.
I got free from trying to placate others' versions of God, and I don't want to be a prisoner to other people's logic as well. If I ever do have an apparently spiritual experience, I think I will have a healthy skepticism--unless I believe that it actually is from God, or is likely to be.
I also tell people, sometimes, if they give me crap about not being a "real" Christian, that I don't need their permission to be a Christian, or have a relationship with God. If God has a problem with me, then that supposedly all-powerful being can think of a way to tell me (though if God is in fact unjust to women or LGBT people, for example, then that is a different matter entirely). Until then, I won't allow anyone to tell me anything about God. If I am made by God, then I would say that I am more than worthy of my own trust, because God doesn't make junk!
I just now gained the freedom to trust myself, relatively recently in my life. So I'm not giving that up for anything, whether for "God" or for "logic". I'm going to trust myself, no matter where that leads me. After all, I'm the only one that I know is truly on my side. Those other people are strangers, and are dubious at best. If I don't trust them to visit me at my house, after all, why would I trust them with something as important as God and God's nature?

Accelerated Christian Education--Now With Gay Couples!

The local Christian school in my town had a home-schooling division, and from late elementary school on that is where my parents bought my textbooks and got my grades back. For the first few years the school gave me Accelerated Christian Education, a curriculum that was rather hokey and heavily laden with cartoons of Christian kids demonstrating specific virtues. The other kids in the cartoons would often say something like, "Thank you for being so discreet." (Yeah, I thought that was funny, too! There was also, "Ace found her shirt" when describing the genders of nouns!) Even at that age, I knew people didn't really talk like that.
How they named the characters was even worse. Pudge was the overweight kid. The "dumber" kid, to whom everyone else explained everything, and whom I presume was meant to be mentally retarded, was Happy. Everyone had last names like "Peace," "Lovejoy" and even "McMercy."
In the cartoons, there was a "black school," a "white school," and an "Asian school." There were no mixing of races in the body of Christ; they appeared to be written even before desegregation (or maybe right after, when the conservatives were still suspicious of it); in one book they taught us how to use the library's card catalog. In another, a Christian scientist was looking for a way to make food and animal fodder from soybeans (I remember thinking that that had already been done).
My favorite character was Ronny Vain, the unsaved kid. He rode a motorcycle, and was rude to the preachy Christian kids, and they just had to take it. Even at eleven, I hated the Christian school/church "system" and loved stories of people rebelling from it, though of course they eventually had to "get saved" and discover Jesus. I actually thought that He could be separated from his own system at the time, and tried to separate Him without success.
Most fucked up, probably, was the series in seventh-grade science focusing on health, specifically the sex ed book.
As I remember it, they showed the internal organs of a deer, not a human. "The waste is expelled out of the vent, or anus."
Then Racer started talking about sexual purity and marriage, first to his parents, then his grandparents. In the most disturbing scene probably in that whole series, he sits at the table eating lunch, talking with his grandpa, and his grandma is nearby, nodding and smiling. He mentions that he has been learning about sexual purity and marriage at school.
His grandpa replied, "That's right, Racer. Every part of our marriage--even the sexual part--is intended to glorify God. It's a reflection of the relationship between Christ and the Church."
And here we learn that Racer's grandparents are still sexually active. I imagine that grandfather saying, "Come on, honey, let's fuck for Jesus. He's watching, you know."
I remember they also once tried to make a case, using Biblical root-words, that voting "right" was God's will and voting "left" was evil.
Though I was really trying to be a good Christian at the time, I hated being spoon-fed my religion. My mother had always tried to be "discerning," or find her own way in her "walk with God," and encouraged me to do the same. I was proud of reading the bible for myself and having my own opinions and beliefs. I once remarked to my mother, "They think we're stupid."
And remember that all of this looked ridiculous to me when I was a Christian. I remember all of this because of the extraordinary stupidity that was blatantly obvious even to someone desperately trying to be a good Christian. It was actually quite frustrating.
So now I'm trying to make it less stupid. I have what is, to my knowledge, the very first Accelerated Christian Education fanfiction on the internet. And Pudge and Ronny are a gay couple.
I plan to make their relationship a mixed one, with Pudge being a Christian and Ronny not being one. There are also a few side plots about interracial couples, disabled and older gay people, and masturbating housewives. I'm having a lot of fun with all of it, though Pronny is the main focus. I will also never say that it has "adult content," no matter how sexual it may get, since the kids trapped in the ACE schools and homeschooled with ACE materials deserve a bit of fun at ACE's expense.

Faith, When The Honeymoon Is Over?

What do you do when you get past that initial "high" of getting saved, of having great expectations of your life with God, and you wonder where it went? A lot of Christians get saved again and again, and that is what I did sometimes, though I eventually sensed a pattern.I have seen Christians twice my age (I am twenty-five) try stuff like "believing God" that something good would happen, and doubling down on their "ministry" in church. I honestly wonder how they can keep it up without getting exhausted, like I did. I presume having a church community gives them some kind of incentive.
I never want to have the kind of relationship I used to have with God: striving, always striving, struggling in spite of my many doubts. Sometimes I wonder if I will remain an atheist/"bad" Christian (or whatever I am) for the rest of my life, and I shudder when I think of the possibility of trying so hard again.
If God truly wants a relationship with me, He will have to reconcile himself to the fact that I am no longer going to try. I don't want to pray, knowing that I will get no discernible (to me) answer. I don't want to read the bible (or any other holy book, for that matter), trying to either ignore or justify the reprehensible parts, and pretend that it's not ancient and frankly, boring. I'm tired, and I'm done.
Being a Christian, and trying to please God, has mostly been exhausting and anxiety-producing for me. I was very relieved, actually, when my faith was broken.
"Oh, Lord, please let this work. Please be with him. Please help us. Please don't let my parents divorce. Please..."
It was constant noise, constant chattering, chattering, chattering, and then...
Silence. I couldn't pray anymore. I couldn't feel. I walked around in a fog, emotionally numb.
When I finally came out of that fog, I was different. I couldn't pray anymore, and didn't see the point in it.
I sat in church, and heard the preacher speak of things from fantasy (God answering prayer, feeling close to God, etc) as if they were real. And I knew now that it was all bullshit. How could I sit there, and hear adults twice or three times my age talk about utter nonsense? How could I pretend to believe, knowing what I now knew? I had seen the hard reality of life. I felt figuratively like a prostitute hearing virgins trying to teach me about sex.
I became cynical, and I still feel cynical sometimes.
 I didn't lose my faith, it was broken.
I was lucky in that my faith was "broken" when I was fifteen. My family was going through some very difficult times, on multiple levels. I feared not only that my parents would divorce, but that we would be financially destitute, and I also feared for my little brother's safety (because of outside circumstances, nothing within our home).
All of it together was simply too much. I kept trying, trying to be a good Christian, a good kid, pray and have faith. I constantly felt an internal pressure, like a little voice in my head (only it was my voice) constantly telling me what I "ought" to do, and it was never enough.
Then one day something snapped, and the pressure was gone. I didn't care anymore. God could kiss my ass. It was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

Around that time, I remember reading Fannie Flagg's book, "Standing In The Rainbow." One character in it tries to do everything for everyone, and she finally just can't do it any more. She just wakes up one day and does nothing for nobody, staying in bed all day long. Then one day she wakes up out of her breakdown, and goes back to work, but she is different. She is more assertive, and takes better care of herself, rather than everyone else but her. She later says, "All my life I've been on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and now that I've had one, I feel a lot better."
My "breakdown" was the beginning of the end for my faith. At first I would write blasphemous songs and tell God that I hated him, because that was all I could do at the time; it was all I had in my arsenal because I was still in the Christian mindset and trying to get out.
Over the years I have tried again to be a good Christian, a few times, but mostly with the underlying attitude of trying it on for size, of seeing if it fits me or is useful to me rather than trying desperately to fit in its mold. Or of giving it one more shot, before I knew I couldn't do it anymore. Something has fundamentally changed in me (maybe I've lost my soul?), and I think I can credit my "breakdown" for making my life much better today.
Looking back now, I probably needed therapy or medication for depression, though I wonder if they would have been better for me or simply gave me the strength to keep going in the same destructive religious pattern. It's impossible to tell, though I do hope others get the help they need.
I have changed significantly, and it breaks my heart to see others who have not gone through this change. I see adults twice my age and older in a constant pattern of trying to do more in church, be better Christians, have more "righteous indignation." All of the things I thought I had to do, before I got angry (or admitted I was angry) at God for asking too much.
They seem to be constantly under pressure, like they're on the verge of a religious breakdown, that never happens. They can somehow keep going and going for years or even decades at a time. I did not have such strength, and my "weakness" was the best thing for me. I fear that they are too strong for their own good.
I lost my faith partially because I can only take so much abuse.