John Lacey

I tried writing something in here last night. It was going to be a terribly witty explanation of why Christians scared me. It even had a witty title to coincide with The World Youth Day celebrations: Ratzinger Is Coming - Look Busy!

The truth is while the general tone of what I was going to write last night and what I am writing now is very different, the issues really aren’t.

I’ve never been a fan of religion, in general. Though my personal experiences, growing up, all revolved around Christianity. I would love to tell you that my experiences were all about the Love and Grace of God, but they really weren’t. If anything Christianity taught me the ‘joy’ of shame. (If the quotation marks were too subtle - they were used to denote sarcasm!)

Christianity taught me I was sinful. Christianity taught me that, in fact, we were all sinful, though apparently there were aspects to my being that were particularly notable in this regard.

And growing up I quickly became aware that there were numerous people who were happy to see me unhappy. People who seemed to derive a good deal of pleasure from my pain. I didn’t understand why they would want to do that to anyone, least of all me. I just assumed I must’ve done something to deserve it - I mean I was sinful, my scripture teacher assured me of that much.

I die a little inside when I think back to that day, but I can’t pretend it didn’t happen. I can’t pretend I didn’t run from the bus stop to my home. I can’t pretend I didn’t slam the door behind me and start crying hysterically. The bit that really cuts me, though, is that I clutched a Gideon’s bible and screamed at the sky. Can you imagine that? I can’t recall exactly what I said. I would like to think it was “Why have you forsaken me?” though that seems more poetic than I was at that stage. I imagine it was more likely, “Why are you doing this to me?” Perhaps “Why me?” more generally.

I don’t actually believe in “God” anymore. I don’t, personally, struggle with theological dilemmas or scriptural interpretations. You could be forgiven for thinking the problem had evaporated entirely.

The truth is even without the grandeur of a tyrannical God of Old Testament proportions, I still feel inadequate. I still feel inherently flawed and worthless. I now assume I’m not good enough for the people in my life in the way I used to assume I wasn’t good enough for a deity. I am terrified that I will never be enough for anyone. I am convinced I am unlovable.

I showed a project that I was working on to the person I consider my dearest friend in the world, and they didn’t say a thing about it. It is such a silly reaction on my behalf. I’m sure they were interested. I am sure (intellectually) they do care. But at the time I just wanted to throw myself in the path of a train. I am terrified of being abandoned, but suspect that the people in my life would be entitled to do it, convinced that I probably don’t deserve their affection.

I guess my fear is that Christians already have a theological reason to dislike me. Whereas, other people have to actually take the time to get to know me before deciding I’m worthless and hopeless. That probably isn’t fair. But in at least one area of my life I am well and truly a response-stimuli animal and the response is usually to flinch, before slowly withdrawing entirely.

I worry about investing in people, emotionally. It is easy enough to be dismissive of criticism of you from relative strangers, but another thing entirely when it comes from people you’ve come to care for. I try to be more open with people upfront because its easier that way, because frankly there are some things over which I exercise no or little influence. And unfortunately existing prejudices top that list.

Somebody once made a YouTube video. It was the sort of thing that ordinarily I wouldn’t have given a second thought to. But this time it was different. I lost sleep over it. Because it didn’t come from some random stranger. It came from somebody I loved.

Categories: Personal Universe
Tags: christianity, features, prejudice, religion, shame