To mum, re:church
I’m not an atheist.
Can we please establish that? I feel as though, immaterial of the number of times I’ve stated this, you do not believe. But not believing, that’s why I haven’t been going to church since I’d turned eighteen. I felt as though I were a hypocrite: sitting in the pews, unconcerned with the ministry, bringing a notebook and pen or novel so as to entertain myself, disagreeing with many principles in my mind. I only went for the friends, that’s where they were. But after college, most of them had gone, and i just kept feeling worse and worse whenever I went.
I’m aware that you know this is not a symptom of higher education, as they tend to preach/ warn against. You’ve been questioning my faith for as long as I can recall, your expressions and tone adding to my guilt. Why can’t I believe? Why can’t I pretend to? The way I’d understood it, as my parent, you were responsible for my immortal soul, my faith and belief in God/Jesus. I gave you eighteen years. I went to Sunday school and Sunday church, I’ve read the bible in its entirety, I went to youth fellowship and teen’s fellowship, I sang on the choir, and participated in dance; all of this for you. I gave it my best. I did not want you to feel you hadn’t tried hard enough.
Now here we are. You’ve never asked, without accusation, what my belief is. At times I resent that: forcing your beliefs unto me, without first inquiring as to my own. I’ve, also, lost count as to the amount of times you’ve ceased contact with me over my reluctance to go to church. Mum, I am who I am. I’ve followed every rule you and my teachers have set for me. In a country and family where spirits (as in alcohol) are easy to come by, I still do not drink (even though I’ve long passed the legal age), I’m honest and I’m kind, I do not gamble, I uphold the law of the land. What true horror have I committed?
To mum,
Re: Church
Ask me about God. See where we stand.
Can we please establish that? I feel as though, immaterial of the number of times I’ve stated this, you do not believe. But not believing, that’s why I haven’t been going to church since I’d turned eighteen. I felt as though I were a hypocrite: sitting in the pews, unconcerned with the ministry, bringing a notebook and pen or novel so as to entertain myself, disagreeing with many principles in my mind. I only went for the friends, that’s where they were. But after college, most of them had gone, and i just kept feeling worse and worse whenever I went.
I’m aware that you know this is not a symptom of higher education, as they tend to preach/ warn against. You’ve been questioning my faith for as long as I can recall, your expressions and tone adding to my guilt. Why can’t I believe? Why can’t I pretend to? The way I’d understood it, as my parent, you were responsible for my immortal soul, my faith and belief in God/Jesus. I gave you eighteen years. I went to Sunday school and Sunday church, I’ve read the bible in its entirety, I went to youth fellowship and teen’s fellowship, I sang on the choir, and participated in dance; all of this for you. I gave it my best. I did not want you to feel you hadn’t tried hard enough.
Now here we are. You’ve never asked, without accusation, what my belief is. At times I resent that: forcing your beliefs unto me, without first inquiring as to my own. I’ve, also, lost count as to the amount of times you’ve ceased contact with me over my reluctance to go to church. Mum, I am who I am. I’ve followed every rule you and my teachers have set for me. In a country and family where spirits (as in alcohol) are easy to come by, I still do not drink (even though I’ve long passed the legal age), I’m honest and I’m kind, I do not gamble, I uphold the law of the land. What true horror have I committed?
To mum,
Re: Church
Ask me about God. See where we stand.
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