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1. Breathe in. It’s just a question. You can do this.
“Yeah, I do.”
Perfect. They’re smiling now.
Something small inside of you feels guilty about lying by omission, so you keep going.
Here comes the hard part.
“I do believe in God, it’s just that - I don’t really go to church anymore.”
Their smile dims, just a little.
But why?! They cry out.
You used to go to church every Sunday when you were little! Someone else intercedes.
Your nails are digging into your palm. Breathe in again, just this once.
“I know, but like, I didn’t really feel it after a while? I prefer to pray on my own.”
2. Things you remember from church:
i. The smell of incense that clung to your hair, even hours after mass.
ii. The sunlight, filtering in through the colored glass.
iii. HOMOSEXUALITY IS A SIN, I CAN’T BELIEVE GOD WOULD LET THOSE KIND OF PEOPLE GO UNPUNISHED, THEY DESERVE TO BURN IN HELL, whispered by a priest to your grandma. Your eyes water and you don’t know why.
iv. You can still recite some of the psalms by heart.
The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the defense of my life; whom shall I dread?
v. Your aunt presses a rosary into your palm, one year before you swear to yourself you will never set foot in a church again. You don’t have the heart to tell her that it feels like she’s handing you a chain made of iron and lead and the weight of your guilt.
vi. Confession is always awkward and forced and you feel like your sins should be yours to deal with and yours alone, but they told you without it you’d be dirty and you believed them. You think about this when you kneel down in front of the crucifix. Jesus Christ’s eyes are closed. The small, ugly thing in your stomach is glad He is not looking at you.
3. There are roughly 52 Sundays in a year. You went to church every Sunday since you were a baby until you were 16. That makes it about 800 masses.
You do the math in your head and it doesn’t feel like 800 hours, it feels like eternities of you standing in your best clothes, forced to listen to stories of fire and brimstone and God’s righteous anger against sinners.
Very rarely they talk about how God is also love and forgiveness. Those times, it feels like you walked into another service for a different religion.
4. You realize you’re “different” around the same time they make you realize they’ll never accept you for who you are.
It hurts more than you thought it would.
5. Your faith is a fragile, small, sleeping thing nested in your ribcage.
You poke and prod and worry at it, hoping you’ll get an answer to a question you’re too afraid to ask.
6. Your family loves you and your friends love you but if there’s really a higher being
7. who created the Universe as we know it
8. and loves us all, for we are His children
9. HOW DO YOU KNOW HE HATES ME FOR WHAT I THINK FOR WHO I LOVE FOR WHO I AM
10. God punishes sinners but he also forgives them.
It took you some time to realize there was nothing to forgive, nothing to end up in Hell for, except the usual stuff, ordinary sins like white lies and feeling envious of someone else’s possessions and other human things.
The first time you walk into a church after a while you do it with a weight on your shoulders you need to get rid of.
The pews are empty and the light hits the altar just right.
You breathe in. Close your eyes.
I BELIEVE IN A GOD WHO LOVES ME, you scream in your head, and it’s loud enough to rattle Heaven.
The silence around you is calm and peaceful.
It’s exactly the answer you were looking for.
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