I am about to discuss a topic that is very touchy. Some of you may be offended. For that, I am heartily sorry. You have a right to your opinion, and I have a right to mine. I am merely expressing that opinion. I will never force my opinion on you, and I hope you will afford me the same courtesy.
My 11 yo and I were driving along today and I commented that there were four very different churches within a mile of each other. This prompted her to tell me that one of her classmates had expressed the opinion (there's that word again) that Bill Nigh was going to Hell because he believes in the Big Bang Theory.
This led to several questions, but one of the things she said really tore at my heart. "Religion is confusing I almost wish I'd been born an animal in the woods or something. What if you go to hell because you accidentally believe the wrong thing."
Now, let me just say that I spent half of my life being force fed a terrifying view of God and his "chosen". I spent half my life being terrified I wouldn't be one of those chosen. I spent half of my life afraid I would go to Hell despite my best attempts at being good. I spent half of my life worrying that every little thing I did was wrong, that I wasn't, and never could be, good enough. There was nothing I did that wasn't considered a sin by SOMEONE. It was a sin to watch TV or movies. It was a sin to listen to music. It was a sin to dance. It was a sin to wear makeup, to wear jewelry, to wear pants (if you were female), to cut your hair, to read anything but the Holy Bible...and THAT was a sin if you were reading anything but the King James version.
Two memories stand out for me that will illustrate what I mean.
When I was about the age of 15, I attended a Pentecostal Holiness church with a great aunt. One day during the summer, I had spent the day with a cousin who attended the same church. We had gone to the public pool during the day, and during the afternoon had decided to lay out in her back yard. The church was having a revival, so that evening we got dressed and attended. Now, up until then, I had only attended Sunday morning services, which were relatively tame for ANY denomination, let alone a Pentecostal Holiness church. This was a small little church, the proverbial "little white church in the wood". It was August. There was no air conditioning, but the ceiling fans were turned on. It was a packed night, standing room only, and so many people in one little spot only made the heat worse. I got a little nauseated from the heat, so I stood and started to make my way to the basement, where the classrooms and restrooms were. One of my friends followed me to make sure I was OK. Unfortunately, so did my Sunday School teacher, who apparently was sure the Devil was making me sick to ensure that I missed part of the sermon. (It couldn't have been that I had been out in the sun all day and was in a small packed church in August.) Don't get me wrong, this was a sweet, sweet woman. I loved being in her Sunday School class and learned a lot from her. You'll never meet a nicer woman. Initially I was so grateful to be in the coolness afforded by the basement that I didn't notice she had followed me. Suddenly she got The Spirit. Please believe me, I'm not saying that to make fun of her. She got The Spirit. She started speaking in tongues and laying hands on me. I understand that now and can even laugh about the experience. Put yourself in my shoes, though. I was 15 (ish. I don't remember the exact age.) The Sunday morning services were relatively calm, although the preaching occasionally got a little heated. I was already sick to my stomach and felt like I was suffocating from the heat. In short, I. Was. Terrified. I started screaming. And I screamed. And screamed. And then I screamed some more. Finally someone called my father to come and get me. I never went to another night service.
Fast forward a few years. It was my freshman year in college, and I took a Feminist Theology class. I don't know what I was thinking it would be about, but I do remember that after a couple of classes, I would go into class absolutely sure that something bad would happen to me just from willingly being in that class. I didn't know what would happen. Struck by lightning? Turned into a pillar of salt like Lot's wife? Drowned in a baptismal? I don't know. I only know I'm glad I stuck it out and didn't give in to the fears that were building up in me. Much like the attempted exorcism, it's an experience I can laugh at now, but at the time, it really took some soul searching to get through.
Long story, well, less long, when this event happened tonight I told my daughter that none of us knows who is going to Hell. I told her the story about Gandhi that Rob Bell tells in the beginning of his book, Love Wins. Essentially, I tried to point out to her that it's preposterous for us to say who of us is going to hell and who isn't. I also pointed out that, since none of us was around when the solar system formed, none of us really knows. Do we know how God created the earth? No, we do not.
Then, there is what a dear friend of mine pointed out: "Plus, I'm pretty sure God invented science, so it's possible to believe in God and science." She goes on to say, "I do believe we were told not to judge."
Amen, Windy. Amen.
My 11 yo and I were driving along today and I commented that there were four very different churches within a mile of each other. This prompted her to tell me that one of her classmates had expressed the opinion (there's that word again) that Bill Nigh was going to Hell because he believes in the Big Bang Theory.
This led to several questions, but one of the things she said really tore at my heart. "Religion is confusing I almost wish I'd been born an animal in the woods or something. What if you go to hell because you accidentally believe the wrong thing."
Now, let me just say that I spent half of my life being force fed a terrifying view of God and his "chosen". I spent half my life being terrified I wouldn't be one of those chosen. I spent half of my life afraid I would go to Hell despite my best attempts at being good. I spent half of my life worrying that every little thing I did was wrong, that I wasn't, and never could be, good enough. There was nothing I did that wasn't considered a sin by SOMEONE. It was a sin to watch TV or movies. It was a sin to listen to music. It was a sin to dance. It was a sin to wear makeup, to wear jewelry, to wear pants (if you were female), to cut your hair, to read anything but the Holy Bible...and THAT was a sin if you were reading anything but the King James version.
Two memories stand out for me that will illustrate what I mean.
When I was about the age of 15, I attended a Pentecostal Holiness church with a great aunt. One day during the summer, I had spent the day with a cousin who attended the same church. We had gone to the public pool during the day, and during the afternoon had decided to lay out in her back yard. The church was having a revival, so that evening we got dressed and attended. Now, up until then, I had only attended Sunday morning services, which were relatively tame for ANY denomination, let alone a Pentecostal Holiness church. This was a small little church, the proverbial "little white church in the wood". It was August. There was no air conditioning, but the ceiling fans were turned on. It was a packed night, standing room only, and so many people in one little spot only made the heat worse. I got a little nauseated from the heat, so I stood and started to make my way to the basement, where the classrooms and restrooms were. One of my friends followed me to make sure I was OK. Unfortunately, so did my Sunday School teacher, who apparently was sure the Devil was making me sick to ensure that I missed part of the sermon. (It couldn't have been that I had been out in the sun all day and was in a small packed church in August.) Don't get me wrong, this was a sweet, sweet woman. I loved being in her Sunday School class and learned a lot from her. You'll never meet a nicer woman. Initially I was so grateful to be in the coolness afforded by the basement that I didn't notice she had followed me. Suddenly she got The Spirit. Please believe me, I'm not saying that to make fun of her. She got The Spirit. She started speaking in tongues and laying hands on me. I understand that now and can even laugh about the experience. Put yourself in my shoes, though. I was 15 (ish. I don't remember the exact age.) The Sunday morning services were relatively calm, although the preaching occasionally got a little heated. I was already sick to my stomach and felt like I was suffocating from the heat. In short, I. Was. Terrified. I started screaming. And I screamed. And screamed. And then I screamed some more. Finally someone called my father to come and get me. I never went to another night service.
Fast forward a few years. It was my freshman year in college, and I took a Feminist Theology class. I don't know what I was thinking it would be about, but I do remember that after a couple of classes, I would go into class absolutely sure that something bad would happen to me just from willingly being in that class. I didn't know what would happen. Struck by lightning? Turned into a pillar of salt like Lot's wife? Drowned in a baptismal? I don't know. I only know I'm glad I stuck it out and didn't give in to the fears that were building up in me. Much like the attempted exorcism, it's an experience I can laugh at now, but at the time, it really took some soul searching to get through.
Long story, well, less long, when this event happened tonight I told my daughter that none of us knows who is going to Hell. I told her the story about Gandhi that Rob Bell tells in the beginning of his book, Love Wins. Essentially, I tried to point out to her that it's preposterous for us to say who of us is going to hell and who isn't. I also pointed out that, since none of us was around when the solar system formed, none of us really knows. Do we know how God created the earth? No, we do not.
Then, there is what a dear friend of mine pointed out: "Plus, I'm pretty sure God invented science, so it's possible to believe in God and science." She goes on to say, "I do believe we were told not to judge."
Amen, Windy. Amen.
