I woke up this morning to the sound of my mother playing Gospel music, the kind I hadn’t heard since I was a little girl, and I immediately felt the disconnect, the vague sense of nothingness that enveloped my soul and left me feeling numb, like nothing mattered. I almost didn’t go to church today but I saw no option for myself on a Sunday morning. So, I texted my friend Victoria and she drove to church. Well, technically, James, her fiancé, drove as she sat in the passenger seat and I was in the back with Holly, another girl from small group. I walked in, sat down, and as the worship band starting playing loud Christian contemporary music, I felt myself wondering what I was doing there. People all around me were singing and crying with lifted hands, pouring out their passion for this holy King, and I sat in my seat unable to even open my mouth.
I almost walked out, but I didn’t. Mostly because I knew Victoria wouldn’t just drive me back home in the middle of service. So I sat and listened to the pastor talk about blended families and share his story of marriage and divorce and being a Christian while being a single dad and then remarriage. It was touching. Everyone around me was crying and I just stared at him. The brokenness that is always in the shadows of my heart creeps up as I type this, but I still can’t cry, won’t allow myself to. The pastor talked about God’s redemptive power and how we’re all adopted into His family now and He loves us so much and yada yada yada.
I can’t accept that, any of it. For the past few years, I’ve been looking at the Christian faith I grew up in, trying to figure out what I believe and why I believe. Questioning if the faith I hold is mine alone or if I’m just following what’s familiar to me. Nonetheless, I’m left wondering, what now? I can’t call myself an atheist, for creation has to have a creator. I guess at this point I’m somewhere between a theist and an agnostic. As I continue my research, that may change but for now, this is what it is.