Taking Off The Bible Belt

365 Devotions in 365 Days


Why do this? You might ask.

How could I not? Would be my answer -- in the form of a question.

I've spent the last few years not fitting. I have been the puzzle piece that has been smashed, hit and hammered and still won't fit into the picture. Not conservative, not quite liberal ... I have been taught it's lukewarm to be stuck in the middle. So what do I do? I'm not a give-up person. I will seek to change and hold on to the vision until my fingers bleed. I'm struggling.

God and I, we've been through a lot together. Days I lived so deeply in the dark, I was pouring out blood. Being destroyed from all sides. Expelling any nourishment that I would swallow into my stomach. Slowly, I was killing myself. Daily I was falling into pieces. When I began to heal, I erased any spiritual doubts and stepped away from religion in waves, but on the waves, as they crest, were words from my heart. There was God and me. And I learned to listen. He showed me how well He knew me, and He spoke to me in unique ways. A personal God, He understood how I would hear Him best.

He whispered through images in my daydreams, hugged me with the warmth of the sunshine, spoke to me through poetry, healed me with Truth, showed me visions of Himself touching my wounds, and He taught me how to love. We are comforted in our best and worst times so that we may comfort others. And I was given a gift, from a very young age -- to observe, to see inside people. In this way, I was taught how to relate to them, where to feed their spirit, how to love them best.

I have learned to stand upon the Bible's Truths as my foundation, (but brace yourselves for this) I have grown to learn it isn't the only way to relate to Him. And so I ask. I realize we are human. The Bible has been translated by ruler's who have had their own agendas, during a time when society was very different from our own, from language to language. We are the one's getting lost in translation. And so I say, Please show me what is true. Please show me how You see women. Please show me who Jesus was. I don't want to see the photographs in the church. I don't want to trust what a preacher is telling me. I don't want to know religion. I want to hear from You. And He answers.

A perfectionist from day one. I have failed. But I have learned. Each day I am learning, growing and changing. That will never stop for me. I am grateful for my moments and I am walking in Freedom. Some days I make mistakes on purpose, just so I don't forget how badly trying to think so many steps ahead, has burned me. He uses it all. And yes, I am a Christian. But what I believe comes from a raw, one-one-one, relationship. I have realized that God -- He loves me just the way I am. I am never going to be perfect. He is not surprised by this. I relish in being flawed. There is not a legalistic bone in my body. I curse for comedic effect, I worship through spoken word poetry, and I write with an edge. He loves me. We are called to love: I love God, I love His creation, and I believe in the plan He has for me. I have asked that He hold me close to His heart and sometimes I hear Him more loudly than not. I'm just me. And He, He loves me like that. We laugh, we love, we dream and we whisper and I - I don't hear Him quoting rules as He talks to me. Isn't there supposed to be relief when you're forgiven?

I'm a unbuckled, I guess you would say. A belt to me is a image of punishment and restraint. It is a noose that chokes. I thought something might be wrong with me. I tear up more in church services these days from feeling numb to what is being said than from rejoicing. I feel that the churches in the South have become more about who they keep out, than who they can love. The church today, is missing the point.

I walk into Christian bookstores and imagine, Jesus himself walking through the door of such commercialism. I feel as if He would feel embarrassed at what has been done to His image. We have made Him a celebrity: slapped His face on T-Shirts, bumper stickers, and we have turned Him into a business. You're missing the point I believe He would say. Do something. When is the last time you helped a neighbor? When is the last time you listened to someone less fortunate than you are? When is the last time you sat with a senior citizen that is homebound and held their hand and listened? Where are you serving? Who are you encouraging? Are the hungry being fed?

"I'll be praying for you," has become a salutation. Like hello or goodbye. I sit in services where homosexuality, sex before marriage, and abortion have been held highly above all other sins. I thought the Jesus said all sin was equal. So if the church believes that being gay is a sin, if people are not allowed inside the doors because of who they love -- Then that man who has cheated on his wife, the teen that has lied to her parents, or that person who gossiped to a friend, should be held just outside the door. We are scaring teenagers so badly where sexuality is concern, that when it is "right" for them to participate in something beautiful and respectful -- they don't know how to cope.



On Easter, of this year I resisted the urge to get up and leave. A week ago, a sat through a song that talked about the church arising -- calling out abortion, homosexuality. Knowing without a doubt that if the Church were to arise as it is right now, it would hurt and harm -- it would be unequipped for what it was truly made for and collapse, fall down.

I watched a service meant to celebrate a Savior being alive, but was geared totally toward evangelism -- focusing almost entirely on His death. Images shown on large screens of Jesus being beaten to a pulp and I looked away. Emotion strings being pulled tightly with song and I longed  for something real. This was not a service for the Friday of His death. I wanted something more. A service that just allowed me to praise Him, to raise my hands, jump up and down, and sit at His feet. Joy. Weren't we supposed to be rejoicing? I wanted to praise Him. To thank Him. I wanted to scream -- He's alive. He's right next to you. Did you forget His spirit is inside? Can't you feel how alive He is?

But I was betrayed.

 I remember watching an episode of Oprah recently with Janet Jackson as the guest. She asked if Janet had seen the film of her brother's last rehearsals. And Ms. Jackson talked about how it hurt too much to see these images that so vividly pointed to how he died. That images of recent years only gave her pain, because she loved him so much. Several churches recently have without asking, forced me to watch the death of someone I have loved deeply my whole life. Don't they understand how much it hurts?  When The Passion of the Christ was released, I promised myself I wouldn't watch it until I was emotionally ready. Yet, a few times recently several crucial scenes have been put up on a huge screen to add more emotion to a song. I have been asked to watch without choosing and even once I have walked away. Shouldn't I have a say in watching images that only remind me of the pain that someone who I love so much endured for me?

I have stepped away from Evangelism. I believe in relationships with people. I believe in loving. I believe in listening and I believe in a God who is powerful enough to show Himself to someone through my hand serving them a meal, my ears listening to the things they are going through or the genuineness in a card that is written just to tell them of their beauty. On Friday nights, I worship with people who are recovering from all kinds of things -- because they have been rescued from much, they praise much. Their adoration comes out of gratitude and just like me, the realization that they may not have even been meant to be breathing. But God is bigger than reality and His plan is real. Occasionally, I go to an African American church where they worship freely, accept me for who I am, and tell it like it is. I have loved visiting a very traditional church where many of the members are gay. Thank God, someone let them in ... because He loves them. And I wonder what the world, what the church would be like if we realized how much we could learn from one another.

Recently, I have seen several church signs that could only hurt. Direct daggers to the heart. Who okays these words placed on marquees? "Aren't you glad you're mother was Pro-Life." (Mother's Day) "God not Allah." "Doing Right is never Wrong." (Who is deciding what is right?) And I am let down. Love. We are called to love. Can you imagine that woman driving by on Mother's Day? The one who made the toughest decision of her life. A Christian. Filled with pain, guilt, and regret. Trying to accept that God loves her for who she is. Only to fall apart on a day that is already so difficult. We are hurting our own. A stranger who just wants to be loved by a God, so hard to believe in because of a world where they can only see hurt. They read a sign that is attacking instead of soothing what is wounded.

So I struggle with what to do. I don't fit here. But I love Him. I go into a Christian bookstore to find a book of devotions and have to put it back because I cannot believe what they want me to devote myself to daily. And I rebel against that which I was brought up to seek because I want what is real, honest and true. So I ask Him. For now I search for a place to worship, a place that truly loves, and I listen to a God who tells me, "Don't change. Stand firm on my Truth and love liberally." I serve, I seek and I trust Him to show me who He is outside of denomination, outside of religion, outside of restricting who is allowed in. I ask to know Him.

Why do this? Because some of us ... We have nowhere else to fit.

365 Devotions in 365 Days: Stripped -- Faith expressed through LOVE.

Consider yourself welcome.