The reader may find my language extreme and excuse it as an emotional rant. Please don't. I stand by this statement and ask that, should I face God on judgment day, that this letter be my only testimony. I will stand by my words.
Is that it?
Alright, I'll add some explanation. This was not the rant of an angry, disgruntled atheist. It would be years before I finally transformed into one of those. No, at this point I was just another hurting Christian, staring at the walls of my hospital room, struggling with shame over my whole existence, wondering how my life had gotten so out of control, and angry at God for putting so much on my shoulders without explaining his purpose.
Now I know God's purpose is beyond my understanding. Still, I was angry at Him. Now anger is a secondary emotion. Anger toward God masked my very real feelings of helplessness. All my life, I had striven to be what God wanted and to know and do His will. I could see my glaring failures, but, on top of that, were the constant reminders from everyone at church that nothing I ever did would be good enough. I had always accepted that I was a sinner, that I would never be as good as God. I wasn't mad at God. I was feeling disappointed in myself, and somehow, for the first time in my Christian life, I felt like I didn't deserve all the blame. There in my room, waiting to go to group therapy, I decided that God had done enough to me throughout my life to warrant a personal explanation. I didn't care about the excuses that Christians make for His lack of personal appearances. I was tired of waiting politely. God could come talk to me and help me understand why, or He could buzz off and leave me alone.
I never got an answer. God never showed up, not there, not then. The next day, I asked my therapist about the meaning of life. "Everything happens for a reason." she began. I perked up, ready for my answer. She let me down hard with "sometimes the reason is just that your dad did meth." Again, my anger stirred. I wanted someone to provide the answers. Hadn't they always told me to listen to adults, obey God, and be good? Hadn't they said it was for the best? Well, what is one to do when we get to the end of our ability to cope?
When I was eleven, I used to study a poster of a kitten hanging from a rope by one claw. The caption read: "When you get to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on." The happy hopeful message got me through many a beating in that room. I kept praying and holding on and hoping. It helped when I was eleven. At 35, I wanted more. God didn't seem to want to give it, and I decided to stand up for myself. I would rather have my dignity. Maybe this was the beginning of me walking away from belief in God, god, or gods. I don't necessarily see it as a bad thing. I'm just trying to face reality.
I tried to make myself better for my Dad, good enough to avoid being beaten. Long after I left home, I tried to please God. Frankly, if he doesn't want to face me with some answers, then I don't think much of him. Honestly, I don't think any such being exists.
