Friday, April 18, 2014

Unbelieving Easter: When Good Friday Comes Alive


Easter is two days away.  It is my favorite holiday.

At least, that's what I would have said with ease six months, a year ago.  

Now, I'm not so sure.  I've distanced myself from the things of religion that, when I hear them or read them or taste them, shut me down faster than you can say "He is risen indeed."

The many problematic and conflicting Bible passages . . . being encouraged to believe in an abusive and terrifyingly mercurial version of god that is not very unlike the ancient pagan deities . . . people who tell me how bad I am, how bad we all are, "for my own good" . . . theology that completely denies the value of darkness . . . ideology that requires me to marginalize any minority group, or yield faithfully to abusive individuals and/or doctrines . . . all things absolute -- the briefest of encounters leaves me swallowing back a sudden, visceral nausea, my hair tangling from the breeze of my soul's walls of protection flying up.  Danger, danger.

I am left wondering what Easter can mean to me when the Church that proclaims the paschal message has, in my opinion, gone so wrong at the core.  Because the heart of the gospel is, in my understanding, love.  From Duck Dynasty to the World Vision debacle to Chick-fil-a's protests, and so on and so on and so on, Christianity isn't coming off so well in the love department.

Which pains me to say, because I know so many Christians who are doing an amazing job at being love with skin on.  Our local church family, the women running some of my favorite babyloss support organizations, the online community of doubters and deconstructors and "free-range Christians" that has refreshed my life blood -- there are still people getting it right.

But I still don't know what to do with Easter this year.

* * *

When it comes down to it, though, it's not the dysfunction and hatred and cruelty I see infesting and infecting the Church that drives me away (although it certainly is a huge turn-off, and something I will continue to address and, in doing so, hopefully help heal).  It's the Bible itself, the fact that every time I turn those impossibly thing pages, I come away hurt and confused and sick-feeling.  It's the fact that I begged God, begged Jesus to please fill the empty parts of me, and those parts remained devastatingly empty.

It's the [delicious] reality that I only began experiencing Jesus' promised "through and through" freedom after I stepped away from religion, only after I walked and then ran with abandon into the desert with its gray sands and harsh sun and endless sky. 

It's the fact that I am experiencing deeper peace here in the borderlands, in the wild country, than I ever did inside the prescribed bounds of Christianity-dictated safety.


I used to wish I could find a happy home inside churchianity's expectations.  That I could find peace being the dutiful evangelical so many wish I would be.

But I don't wish it any longer.  Because I've found more of Jesus' gifts out here with the heathens and the homosexuals and the written-off wastelands than I ever unearthed when I faithfully peeled open my Bible's cover each morning, when I prayed the kinds of prayers I'd learned to utter, when I tried to mold my soul and my skin so I'd fit in on Sunday morning.

* * *

The Jesus I thought I knew is dead.  My right answers died with him.  I don't know if I'll ever see him again.  The future is wide and uncertain. 

This is Good Friday.  This is the Good Friday experience.  I have never lived it more truly. 

I wouldn't trade it.

10 comments:

  1. "I have never lived it more truly." Gives me chills, Beth. Your honesty and authenticity are breathtaking. Thank you!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. thanks, Jamie! I so appreciate that, coming from another authentic and exquisite truth-teller.

      Delete
  2. Your words are a balm to my injured soul. You voice the things crying in my heart as I wrestle with what my walk is going to be.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Big big big hugs, Monica. You are not alone. We are not alone. Reaching out across the wilderness to you...

      Delete
  3. This is the essence of Good Friday to me. This is so good.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'm really glad you're feeling/seeing that, too, Suzanne. *clinks glass*

      Delete
  4. This is so good. I'm right there with you.

    ReplyDelete
  5. This I get. This Easter has felt so strange. I almost don't know how to act, or what to do or how to feel. But I do know that the Jesus I thought I knew is dead.

    ReplyDelete
  6. We haven't done anything for Easter in years, it has been very different from my past life. We didn't even realize it was coming up already until we stopped in at Target. D asked if Easter was this weekend (because the area was swarming with people), I responded with, "hell if I know" which was overheard by someone passing by. He gave me the ugliest look, and I just had to laugh inside.

    I love that you are sharing this gorgeous journey with us.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Inspired by one of your previous posts, I'm now reading "Job and the Mystery of Suffering" and am forever grateful for you for bringing this book into my life. It felt especially fitting to read on Good Friday and Easter weekend...thank you.

    ReplyDelete

"I am glad you are here with me."
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King