On the Other Side of the Bridge

I know so many people who have been hurt by church. Hurt by people who claim to be Christians and yet don’t act like it. Hurt and traumatized by the very people that Jesus called the light of the world. 

And for those of you who have been hurt I’m sorry. 

It was never meant to be that way. And I understand. I truly do. Because it happened to me too. 

I grew up in a Catholic family where religion was often used as a way to get us to obey. If we didn’t do something our parents wanted, we were sinners. We were bad children and sinners if we didn’t sit a certain way or if we talked to each other when our parents told us not too or if we disobeyed a single order that our parents gave us. In my mind, and still now, it felt like the Bible was being used as a thing to manipulate and control us, instead of being as a way to come alongside with parenting. 

I don’t want to go into specifics but I’ll go into a few. I remember being forced on my knees to apologize to my brother after I did something to him. I remember being forced into my room because I refused to sit a certain way during family Bible time, for reading the Bible too fast, or for refusing to pray. I remember being told as a young thirteen year old girl that I either get confirmed into the church or I was going to be homeschooled for high school. 

I know. I know what it means to have religion abused. And I know what it did to me. It turned me to an atheist. 

I remember declaring hating God. That I wouldn’t care if I burned in hell. That I thought Jesus dying on the cross was stupid and I didn’t see the point. I didn’t care if I was selfish. I didn’t care if I hurt people. I was an atheist for four years. Four long years. 

Until I found God. In my own way. In my own time. 

You see, I became an atheist because I wanted nothing to do with my parent’s God. I wanted nothing to do with a God that would call me a sinner and a bad child because I didn’t obey every single one of my parents’ commands. I wanted nothing to do with a God that was forced down my throat even when I was gagging with it. I wanted nothing to do with a God that caused so much misery and pain. And most of all, I wanted nothing to do with a God who would slap me and throw me against the wall by my hair, apologize, and do it all over again. 

It made me angry. So so angry. Until I realized over so many years that God is not who others say He is. He is what the Bible says He is. And when I opened that Bible and read for myself, I found out the truth. That He hurt when I hurt. He cried when I cried. He wouldn’t force religion down on me because He stands patiently at the door and knocks (Revelation 3). That when I was getting a book shoved into my ribs or being dragged around the room by my hair, He wasn’t saying I deserved it, but crying and pleading alongside with me. 

And that’s what I want you to know. Don’t confuse the God of others with the true God. You aren’t perfect. Why expect Christians to be perfect? We, as Christians, are not true image bearers of Jesus, we could never be. We could never live up to that. Ever. So when you look to God, when you search for Him, when you call out for Him, don’t look at us. Look at Him. Look at what He said. Look at His love. Look at the Cross. And tell me, what kind of love is that to run away from? Find Him for yourself. He isn’t what your mom said. He isn’t what your dad said. He asks you, “Who do you say that I am?”