It's a comforting thought anyway, the thought of Nanna popping in once in a while....
Thoughts of Nanna for me inevitably lead to thoughts about faith and religion and it's role in my life. The religion I grew up in and the faith I now have are at constant odds with each other in my heart and mind. I find myself often contemplating and musing upon aspects of the "truth" I grew up in and the faith I experience on a day to day basis. Nanna played a very big part in my "religious history" which is why memories and thoughts of her are usually linked in with contemplations of faith.
Caught up in the heady fervour of the Christian Revival Crusade in the 60's and 70's I think my Nanna may have taken on my diagnosis of achondroplasia as a bit of a challenge and subsequently, a mission. I do have a vague recollection of Nanna telling me that when she was talking to someone about the healing ministry of Jesus, that person challenged her with the fact that I was born with dwarfism. How was she to explain that? Could Jesus heal me?
Not to be deterred, my Nanna took that on as a challenge and prayed fervently for me to be healed. As I grew older I remember being taken to the front at various churches, asking the pastors to pray for my healing. I was even taken to a Billy Graham Crusade in the city once, to no avail. This did not deter my grandmother. There was always a reason as to why my miraculous growth spurt wasn't forthcoming - "If we really believed we would have bought "normal" clothes to bring her home in."
Bless you Nan!
These thoughts flit through my mind from time to time when I catch my reflection unexpectedly and notice my body shape. It seems to be happening more frequently these days as my body becomes leaner from all my training and I notice more of my bone structure and the different lumps and bumps that Nan would notice and sometimes poke. It's not a negative or hurtful thing, just a thought that flits across my consciousness that demands to be acknowledged. I'm in no way resentful that Jesus/God didn't heal me; in fact Jesus, God and me have a pretty respectful relationship these days. But when I had children and actually needed some of that healing power for them for some pretty intense situations, I lost the plot. I wasn't asking for miraculous growth. I wasn't asking for something insignificant that they could live without. I was asking for my babies not to have to have major corrective surgeries....and yet heaven remained silent...and I had to faithfully hand each of my children over to surgeons. The number of times I railed against God, shook my fist at the heavens and told God I hated him....
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| It's a wonder lightning didn't strike me dead. |
Over the years I have witnessed some pretty out there stuff, all done and said in the name of God. During the 1980's I became terrified of having to go to church. I'd start feeling anxious on Saturday night, knowing that on the morrow we would be going to church...and there would be there for TWO HOURS...and there was no way of knowing what would happen. Sometimes the preaching would make me think that there was evil out there all around me and if I wasn't careful it would take me and possess me and I'd end up being one of the scary, scary people up the front being prayed for while I shook and screamed as the evil tried to hang on to my soul. Evil was in the rock music I listened to, the wind chimes I would hear, the rainbow flags I would see waving sometimes, the movies in cinemas....and in the hand of the boy I loved.
Evil and wrong and bad and sinful is what I was when I had sex before marriage and ended up pregnant. Shame followed me everywhere because I was told that all these things were not God's plan for me and for it all to be right and blessed and good it had to be done this way and because it wasn't done this way there were a number of hoops to jump through to make it all good and right and proper.
What made me hang on to that religion? I can't tell you. Sometimes I liken it to an abusive relationship where the one that is abused stays in the relationship because to leave would be even more terrifying. Better the safety of the familiar and predictable than the uncertainty of the unknown. The religion I grew up in seemed to make a life of faith so much more complicated than it was ever meant to be. So many rules, so many expectations, such pressure to perform and be dedicated, particularly to the local church family. Be there every Sunday and at Growth group midweek, be involved in a ministry of some sort and attend all the meetings involved with that and tithe 10% of your income.....plus offerings. I gained employment at the Christian School affiliated with a particular place of worship and it was there where everything came tumbling down for me as I came face to face with the dysfunction of so many who were held in such high regard as examples of the Christian faith. To this day I remain affected....as do others I love.
So I left.
It took a while...and I did go back from time to time to try things out again....but eventually I stopped going to any place of worship where there was a formal gathering of people in the name of God or Jesus. I can even remember thinking on that last Sunday morning, "I can't do this anymore," and I quietly rose from my seat and left.
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| Image source |
I will always be grateful to them for that.
So....where do I stand?
Maybe this is my own statement of faith.
God exists. I cannot shake that belief. I believe in the Creator. How it all went down, I don't know....but I do believe that Spirit was in the centre of it all.
Jesus was a pretty cool example of how to do life as an awesome human being. I read accounts of his time here on Earth and He sounds like Someone I would enjoy hanging out with. No judgements of anyone, except pointing out to those who set themselves up as the righteous ones that THEY were the ones with the problems. The more I read about Jesus, the more I like Him.
Everything else is pretty much open to interpretation. If Jesus didn't specifically address it, then it's an unknown and who am I or anyone to make that call? Love everybody, help others and do your best to live peacefully. It's as simple as that. I see a lot of people of all kinds of faith....and sometimes with no faith.....doing that. I believe God gives that stuff the big thumbs up.
I never was wrong, bad, wicked, evil or sinful. I was just a young person trying to find her own way in the world. Achondroplasia just happened...and that was okay. My little body is beautiful and acceptable and RIGHT just the way it is.
I loved someone....and that was beautiful....and it was always beautiful and it deserved to be celebrated even though events didn't happen in the "acceptable" format. I don't expect celibacy before marriage of my young people. I believe in love and honesty and the celebration of love in whatever form that takes.
Life is good. I am filled with peace. I am filled with more peace and love and joy than I ever experienced going to the place where I was told I would find it.
