Riddle Her Religious – My dirty little secret.

I’ve had a weird week to say the least. It’s been a hard and yet beautifully renewing time for me. I had to make some big choices and am still making my way through more hard choices, but I have learned so much about who I am, what I want in this life, and who I want around me.

First of all – let me just say this: I said from day one that I would always be honest, and I will. But what that means is that my witty charm won’t always be there. I know, I know…it’s a shame. The hard thing about a blog like mine, that encompasses so much of life, is that I can’t post something without really addressing my life. And I REALLY can’t always be running into swamps and poisoning my whole family. So you guys will have to lower your expectations a little bit.

So – back to my weird week.

Something I don’t talk about a lot is my faith. And, before you shout a bible verse at me, it’s not because I’m ashamed or something. It’s simply because I have sort of adopted the idea that I don’t have to talk about it all the time if I’m living it well.

I am not someone who conforms to the mainstream idea of what Christiany looks like and, for the better part of my adult life, when asked about my faith, I would give you an answer about how it was a relationship – not a religion…or that I wasn’t a fan of organized religion. But can I be totally honest? I don’t even know what that means because I sure as hell wouldn’t want to be part of an UNorganized religion. And, yes, I can say ‘hell’. Jesus and I talked about it and he said it was cool.

I think the media tells an interesting story about the church. I see churches highlighted in the news that don’t reflect the things I believe my faith is built on. I see these people and I wonder if people who haven’t experienced church think that’s what I’m about. I wonder if people hear of my faith and immediately assume that I am someone who cannot be trusted.

But the thing I have focused the most on this week, is what my religion means to me. And I have a one word answer.

Let me say this now – if you are someone who wants the answer to every question to be ‘science’, stop reading. This will only hurt you.

My whole life, I have dodged admitting my religion, because I lacked the one thing that was supposed to define it – love.

Love is the answer. Always. In every trial – love can be the solution.

My friends of all faiths or lack of faith, can agree that Jesus, be Him fictional or not, was someone who encompassed love. For all. No holds barred.

And I would be lying if I said I have never felt hate. I really flippin’ hate butterflies. Like, for real. I hate them. I want them all dead. Forever.

But, at the end of the day, if I were better at love, I wouldn’t be so eager to find new terms for the word ‘religion’. Because, no matter who asked, they would be able to say I had loved well.

And I haven’t. I haven’t loved well at all. Sure, I think anyone should be able to get married. But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about real actual love. The kind that doesn’t react to, but overpowers anger. The kind that is not determined by situation. The kind that doesn’t get smaller when there is hurt. The kind of love that bridges gaps.

I have hidden behind the idea that, because I am human, I can’t be held to a higher standard because of my faith. I’ve said before that people needed to understand that people who go to church aren’t perfect. Which, I mean – duh. I don’t know of anyone who doesn’t go to church who actually expects someone who does to be perfect. But they SHOULD be allowed to expect that there will be love.

That love will be the answer.

And maybe even the difference.





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