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chapteR 2

 Today, I'm going back to the church that I was in when I heard from the pulpet that suicide, abortion, and homosexuality were all sins against god that humans could not be forgiven.    While I left the building almost immediately after hearing this, I didn't leave the organization right away - preferring to give the board some time to decide if they would reply or stand up or commit to a different way of thinking.

In the end, no, they did not.  While there were some progressives in the mix, most of the tithing group was old school and did not disagree with the message.  Harm, it seemed, had a price tag.  So did love.

And so I left - in stages, the building, the organization, and the faith - five years later still building and navigating my own.  So trauma-based, as it turns out, that going back to the building for an event unrelated to faith or religion feels worthy of some investigation.

My "deconstruction" started when I realized I don't believe suicide, abortion, or homosexuality are sin and that there's likely more stuff I don't actually believe.  I set out on a quest to determine what I believed, and it turned out - sadly - that there wasn't much.  Once you break the circuit of "the bible proves the bible" you start to see and understand how much of your own belief system is indoctrination and how little of it is your own.  And then you realize how entrenched these belief systems are in our relationships with others and you begin to not only lose your sense of safety in your beliefs, but you also begin to lose some friends and family.  

Suicide is a mental health issue, not sin.  Imagine being the parent of a child who ended their own life, and hearing that that child is now condemned to hell?  Where is the empathy and love that the person needs?  And how can something as big as a god be so entirely petty to hate someone whose life was so traumatic that they needed out of it, desperately?  I can make similar arguments about homosexuality and abortion - the christian-attack usually deeply rooted in misogyny and control and it makes me sick in ways I cannot yet examine.  

I'm going back into that building today to speak with a group of seniors about the joy of fostering future service animals.  I'll see folks that stopped thinking of me, and stopped being 'my community' the moment I stopped sharing two hours each Sunday morning with them.  I've both developed new community and gotten to the point where I know the limits of community over the last five years.  I'm going through those doors as someone different.  I wonder if anyone will notice.

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