The Role of Religion in My Life

PART 1

I grew up in a devout Independent Fundamentalist Baptist church of 2,500 + people, where there was a chain of command and strict rules. I went to church twice on Sunday and visited homes on Wednesday evenings, trying to tell people how great God was and they should come learn about him at our church. My dad drove the Sunday bus route, along with 10 + other buses, picking up anyone who wanted to come, but needed transportation. My mom was involved in the deaf community, and would sign for the hard of hearing during worship services. We were involved in programs like holiday singing choirs and plays, banquets, conferences, summer camps, missionaries, and youth groups.

I attended the school that was owned by the church, from K-8th grade. With school came more involvement in programs: fundraisers ( yes I sold chocolate bars!), sports, pep rally's and concession stands, banquets, science fairs, art shows, spelling bees, holiday plays and kids music concerts.

I grew up very socialized, with a ton of friends, and a childhood full of memories. Nothing felt out of the ordinary compared to any other person I knew. Every time we went to church or school, there was a dress code to follow: no pants, skirts at knee length or longer and not tight fitting, shirt collars had to touch the collar bone. For things like PE or sports, culottes were allowed, and tank tops were accepted if they fitted tight under the armpit. One piece swimsuit, always with clothes over top. There were other rules, like I wasn't allowed to be closer than arms length to boys and never alone with them. Typical child rules like no drinking, smoking, coloring/cutting hair, or tattoos. Since boys had cooties and the other vises were out of my reach, those rules didn't seem enforced as much.

Teachings from the church guided parents on how to train their children to be followers of Christ. Being kind and helpful to others was the the golden rule above all else. I was raised to respect my elders, have manners while eating, and be a hard worker. I did what I was told, or there would be consequences. I shared my things, helped others, did my chores, followed the rules, and did my best to be good, so as to avoid any punishments.

When my family moved to Alaska in 1998, to help friends build a remote summer bible camp, we joined another Baptist church with the same teachings, in a much smaller setting. Rules were the same, at home, school and church. I attended school, owned by the church, through graduation, and the focus was on serving God in all aspects of life. As I went through the early teenager years, the focus was more on my purity: abstain from sex and anything that looked sexual, like how I dressed, holding hands, kissing, and hugging, sitting too close together, being alone, or having conversations that looked too serious. I was persuaded to focus on the life God wanted me to have and instructed on how to be a good wife and mother, and a caretaker of the home: men came first, then the children, then a clean home and others. Contentment in all things. Humble always.

I graduated high school in 2002, and didn't attend church for a short while. One day, my boyfriend met a man in a hardware store who invited us to his Baptist church. As we slowly attended, it was a different experience than I grew up with. The group was maybe twenty people of close friends and family and we met in the basement of a realtor office, I think. The pastor was approachable and relatable. There was no talk about what we wore, no dress code, no chain of command, rules or expectations. It was people coming together for the support of learning about God, and having a more personal relationship with Him.

My boyfriend and I were married in 2005, and had our first child, a son, in 2007. As a new mother, eager to do good and right, I sought the advice of the other wives and mothers of the church. I wanted to know how to be more humble and content in my life, how to care better for my family and home, and how to truly be selfless by giving to others.

In this new church setting, I attended church twice on Sunday, and a prayer meeting on Wednesday night. Most Saturdays were spent standing on the corners of busy intersections, holding signs about God's love and waving our Bibles. We did potlucks on Sundays. We shared our lives beyond the church setting; we met at each other's houses for parties or dinners, went hunting together, and for a few years, my husband worked for the construction company owned by the pastor.

It felt like one of the better times in my life. I had people I could rely on, and shared a common goal with. I was truly seeking contentment, and it came in the form of serving as a mother and wife. I gave everything I had to everyone, and felt immense peace.

So in 2011, a year after our daughter was born, it was extremely heartbreaking to move 350 miles away, for my husbands job, to a city where we knew no one, and had no church to attend. We meant to find one, kept saying, "We should find a church...", but life got in the way, and it never happened. In all honesty, church felt like an overwhelming obligation to us as parents of toddlers, and we didn't want to continue. And since there was no one checking on us or keeping us accountable, it became easier and easier to put it off.

That time away from religious accountability was when I began questioning most things. Who I was, what I really believed, what were my core values so I could teach my kids and raise them to be valuable human beings. Most of the stories you know about me, or even who I am today, are from that time alone in a new city until today. It's where the most growth has happened.

PART 2

It started with the realization that I am the only one who can make myself happy. My whole life had been about doing good and following the rules to make others happy, and in return, it did make me happy. But when I couldn't live up to that perfection, when I failed, it was a devasting blow of worthlessness. When I expected flowers, and didn't get any, I felt like it was karma. Someone else was to blame, or I failed in some way. When friends stopped communicating, I felt like it was because I wasn't trying hard enough. When my kids were throwing a fit or not eating their food, I felt like it was my fault for not trying hard enough. I could internalize everything to be my lack of being good enough. And then one day I realized that in those moments, I had the choice of choosing the outcome. To buy my own flowers, to accept that I was in fact trying my hardest, that people do things out of my control, but that I can in fact control myself and my happiness.

And to mark this massive personal growth breakthrough, that started the unraveling of myself, I got a tattoo. And I didn't feel eternal damnation, I didn't feel God leave me, or feel less than worthy. I felt empowered to move forward, seeking answers about everything.

In the Baptist religion, appearance is everything. A happy little family, who has a pet dog, and lives in a nice house in a safe neighborhood, where the husband works tirelessly to provide the good life for his family, while the wife takes care of the home and children. They are viewed as humble servants, giving their time to help the church and others, while providing a stable and memorable home life for their children. In Baptist religion, good children (those who obey, respect, serve, and are kind) are the trophies of good parenting. This was my childhood, and the start of my own family.

The first thing I remember feeling as a young child in the Baptist religion, was that I was a sinful and broken person. And the only way I could be made whole, better, was through accepting Christ in my heart. To admit I was a worthless sinner, who needed Him to come live in my heart, make me whole, and live my life as a reflection of Him in my soul. And one way I felt I could do that, was to mirror the stories I was taught weekly - how God would be kind, give to others without complaint, how He was selfless and sacrificed himself for others. So I would give up my seat to anyone who needed it, even men. I forgave over and over and over, no matter what. I did what was asked of me - cleaning, volunteer, babysitting, work harder, don't be so emotional, and share with my friends. This followed me into adulthood, where I said yes to what people needed, without regard to myself.

Religion taught me that without Christ, I am nothing. So I felt like if I didn't keep up with the Godly lifestyle, it meant I was nothing. And when I failed, I wasn't good enough, trying hard enough, and God turned away from me, disappointed.

Another reinforcement to keep up with the Godly lifestyle, is religion taught me that I am a human being with a selfish nature, and I cannot trust myself. I must seek Christ or Godly council for the answers of my life. When those answers didn't come, I felt like I wasn't doing it right... I didn't have enough faith, I wasn't trying hard enough, I sinned and was being punished. So I tried harder and harder to please others, looking for that validation. When I broke rules of the dress code, or was unkind to someone, or didn't give in some way, I was devastated. I truly believed God shunned me, and I was bound for hell. That fear drove me to try harder and do better.

My clothing choices were judged, literally measuring for approved length and fit. I was told how I dressed could make boys sin, by giving them impure thoughts. I was taught that vanity was sin, to take pride in my appearance was selfish. I cringed at compliments. But I was also persuaded to be a runway model at a purity banquet, and when I finally surrendered out of obligation and fear, I was praised and complimented.

When I wanted to have a career as a teacher, I was gently guided in questioning how that would fit into my lifestyle as a mother and wife, keeper of the home. How my school grades needed to be better, how college wasn't really set up for women and I would have to work a job to pay for the schooling. Fear of the unknown, and lack of confidence kept me from pursuing anything beyond the Baptist dream of being a stay at home mom.

Saying no to a hug was selfish. Saying no to a friend who wanted to hang out was selfish. Taking care of myself, thinking of myself, was selfish. Older men who tickled my ribs and grabbed my shoulders and neck in a massaging way was acceptable - I was told they meant no harm, just being friendly and playing around. When boys my own aged did the same thing, it was because they liked me and found me attractive.

Religion in my childhood was both normal, and confusing. I saw contradictions but to question them was sin. If I trusted my intuition, I never acted on it. I bit by tongue often and compromised what I could, to make any situation easier on the other person, therefore making them happier. I sacrificed my well being to care for the needs of my family and others.

Religion gave me kindness, manners, a childhood full of experiences, and some valid attributes.

But religion also gave me this immense desire to please others; to serve them, sacrificing myself. The ultimate badge of humility.

Religion taught me how to neglect my feelings and distrust myself.

How to judge myself, by the standards of others.

To bear shame.

To have guilt as my guide of doing right or wrong.

Religion taught me how to manipulate myself.

How to disrespect myself, and others.

How to not have boundaries.

I felt if people didn't follow the way I was going, then they were not worth my time.

For the past twelve years, I have battled what I was taught, and what I actually believe. I have crawled myself from dark holes of ignorance, into the welcoming arms of acceptance. I scraped my way through self love, self care, my needs and to my well being.

I do believe in God, in the sense that I know there is a higher power in some areas of my life. But I no longer believe in religion. It's mostly a trigger these days, as I continue to navigate my way through.

I know that the role religion has played in my life, has brought me to where I am now. To my beliefs and growths.

I still believe there is good in people, and blindly trust them.

I know kindness can make me feel better in a tough situation.

Giving grace to others, and myself, allows true acceptance of ones self.

I mess up often, and am still a lovable person.

I am valid. Period.

I AM VALID!

What people feel, experience, and believe, is their truth. And they are valid in that space.

Everyone... and I mean everyone... deserve kindness and respect. Even me.

Some days, I see both sides of the religious spectrum and acknowledge where I am, and where I want to be. But most of the time, I'm too focused on other parts of my life and not concerned about it. I've never sat down and wrote about, which is probably why this post was much harder than the others. I know where the broken bits of myself came from, I've been in constant work of repairing them, and I'm on the mending side now reassuring myself of my safety in moving forward.

I know others have gone through similar experiences as me. We bare the same scars, an unmentioned understanding that gives us this connection of truly seeing each other. But it doesn't own us. We were made stronger because of it. I hope my words will reach those who are still navigating themselves through it, and will know they are not alone.