Through the valley

I have been going through somewhat of a valley spiritually-speaking over the past few months. We have only been to church twice since Honey’s accident, and we are currently trying to decide which direction to take on that front. Being part of a congregation over the past few years has been an overwhelmingly positive experience, but I also enjoy lazy Sunday mornings at home. Even more so since some of our closest friends are no longer attending services.

One thing I’ve learned over the past several weeks is that many of the fellow worshipers I thought were true friends, actually aren’t. No cards, phone calls, emails, text messages, Facebook pokes… nothing. I realize friendship is a two-way street, but a simple “We miss you!” can go a long way toward easing feelings of isolation and loneliness.

Religion has never been an easy thing for me. It often feels like a handicap that must be struggled through in the hopes of attaining some eternal reward. I don’t like the monotony of religious tradition or the arrogance of doctrine. So much of it seems elementary – a jagged little pill I must swallow every week. I’m much more content to figure it out for myself, rather than allowing someone else to tell me which path the journey should take.

I read too much, question too much, and believe too little. I keep hoping a light bulb/aha moment will wash all of my hesitation and fear away, but the older I get, the less likely it seems that such a thing will occur.

For me, God has become a concept; a way to explain how everything my senses reveal came into being. I refuse to deny His/Her existence simply because it might not make logical sense to believe. Nothing really makes sense if you think about it long enough (space, for instance). Religion certainly falls into that category.

I take nothing lightly; in fact, I agonize over these things. It just seems like I keep coming back to the same conclusions time after time, which means that I have to eventually be honest with myself about what I believe – or don’t believe. Unfortunately, those moments of realization usually include a mixture of anxiety and sadness.

This post isn’t really going anywhere, but I just needed to get these thoughts on screen so that they might be a little easier for me to organize. I’ll try to write something a little more coherent next time. ;)

Author: Brian

Blogger. Bookworm. Michael Jackson fanatic. Lives in Kentucky with partner of 12 years and three fabulous felines.

3 thoughts on “Through the valley”

  1. Did I write this? I’ve been writing a post like this in my head. It sounds just like my life. We were so unhappy at our old church. I would come home every Sunday and cry all day. Jess and I would also fight every Sunday. And I don’t mean a spat, I mean knock down drag out FIGHT. It got to where organized religion wasn’t worth it and we quit going anywhere for a few months. It felt as if nobody noticed we were gone. Nobody called, sent cards, or did anything. When we saw people out in public they blamed the preacher for us leaving. Last month we got a few Christmas cards, and a couple of them said, “we miss you”, but 8 months later is too little too late. But DON’T GIVE UP! Once we realized we had to move on we found a wonderful church, that we love! The only thing I regret is not leaving my disfunctional church sooner.

  2. “Too little, too late” is exactly how I’m going to feel if and when someone does finally reach out. I hate the way this whole thing makes me feel – like I’m being petty – but we’re all human and we all get our feelings hurt from time to time.

    I should add that our pastor has been completely and utterly supportive through the whole thing. I couldn’t have asked for a better shoulder to cry on, and anytime I needed him, he was right there.

  3. Okay, now you really sound like me. Our pastor was wonderful throughout, even though he was losing members left and right and taking lots of flack for it, which was why we ended up at one of his other churches.

    Just tonight @ an event at the school a member of our former church told us how much they miss us and that they hope to one day, “get us back”. Made me feel like an inatimate object rather than a person.

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