a child is born

 No THC rootbeer for me tonight. 

Its nearly 11.  

I went to a super liberal Lutheran church tonight that my parents go to. 

I've been there before many times, but its been awhile. It was really weird to me, how they have changed so much of the service to fit their values etc., but still keep certain parts, and still share the same stories, and the same songs. It reminded me that I am not a Christian by faith anymore, even if I am by culture. 

And that struck me in a really weird way, because I found myself nostalgic for this past version of myself that believed. I talked to my Mom and Grant about it, and texted E about it a little. 

When I was a kid, I was a really Christian kid, internally at least. I didn't take the Lord's name in vain even when I began swearing, I went to church frequently. I believed the stories, and sang the songs and prayed often. I read a children's bible at night. I had dreams and nightmares about the bible. I drew pictures of bible scenes, wrote prayers and songs in my head. My first cds were Jesus Christ Superstar and Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dream Coat, not long after - Godspell. I had cds of Christian camp songs, I had tapes of sermons. I requested to watch the Ten Commandments and Jesus movies when I was sick. I went to youth programs here and away. Mission Trips.  Church camp. I went to my Mom's church, I went to my Dad's church sometimes, I went to my Grandpa's church. There were several times when I 'ran away' or got upset and I went to church because it was a space to commune with G-d. I was a really Christian kid. Those were all pretty outward things. 

Internally I believed these stories and songs, I believed them concretely, and then when that changed, I wrestled with them absolutely all the time, to believe to be a person of faith, to fit into these beliefs even when I no longer believed everything the church taught. There was a war in my heart, my soul, and absolutely my mind... and it said that I needed to be good, to be a believer, to have my soul redeemed because I was sinful. I was a monster. I was so easily tempted by evil... and so, stories about Jesus... were really powerful, not because metaphorically or symbolically he pointed the way to a better life, or to freedom, or relief,  but because he was salvation.  Because I believed, wrestled myself into belief, struggled and overcame in my belief and through his grace.  And it was painful, and scary, and sad, and I was frequently a mess of a person struggling with guilt and shame... but it was an equation easily satisfied by my faith, which -I still struggle to question. I mean, I believe in something... its just not that story of G-d coming to earth to free us of the condemnation he had previously pronounced. 

I love elements of the story, I love the idea that if G-d were to come down from his high and mighty, he would upend the story and do it through the lowliest of us... the poor unwed mother, refugee, oppressed by empire... Emmanuel sure, I am with that. The reminder that our faith calls us to serve all, that we can see G-d in the face of another, all of that.  But this idea of sin and redemption... why...

But tonight in church, I missed that part of me. I missed the part of me that could believe these ridiculous stories, and sing these absurd songs, and not criticize or question, or know better...  I missed that part of me that believed it, knew it absolutely to be true, 

missed it, because and it gave me concrete meaning and purpose not just abstract values and complexities, and uncertainty.  

I missed my certainty, and even when I wasn't certain, my belief that someone higher than me knew better, and all I had to do was wrestle myself into submission to his will. 

It's weird to feel free of that shame and fear, and still miss it.  

My faith seems so much bigger now, so much more all encompassing, so much more grand and mysterious, creative, expansive, awe filled... and yet I dunno, there is something powerful about the story of sin and redemption, it's so neat. 

It's funny because even though I have wrestled with this awareness on and off, I am reminded of Esfegione, The Lord's Beloved... and how he wrestles with this same exact story... going from childhood awe and awful adoration, to knowing better, and still wanting his God to love him. (This is from my book).  It's almost like my characters are parts of me... go figure. 

It's hard for me to comprehend how other people believe still.... unless they believe it like they believe in Santa Claus... like everyone shares it with a wink. 

Anyway.