My thoughts

March 29, 2010 at 3:40 pm | Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

Ok, this post needs a little introduction. I love to write, however I’m not very good at it. If you want me to sit down and write something… nothing comes out, but two hours later as I’m cooking dinner, or doing dishes or something, I’ll have this urge to write and an essay will come out of me. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s not.

I have a few of these on my computer at home and I’ve not really been brave enough to post them online. A lot of these essays are very person emotions, thoughts and feelings and are not what I usually post on my blog.

I try very hard to keep this blog neutral, I’m not really interested in hate mail and I try not to attract it. I know I’ve posted a couple notes that had very strong opinions, but even then I tried to be diplomatic about what I wrote.

These essays, don’t have that. I don’t edit them, I don’t stop and think as I type them, they just come out in a big blob of what I call “typing vomit” that splashes on the page however I write it.

I figured I’d throw this one out because I’m pretty impressed with where my brain was when I wrote it a few days ago.

All I ask is that as you read it you don’t take it personally, this isn’t directed at anyone, this is just a little snippet of how my brain works and thinks.


I am a Christian Liberal.
Ok, Ok I know, that’s almost an oxymoron in this day and age but… I am.
I grew up in a “Christian” house; basically we went to church on Sundays, paid our dues, went home and didn’t really talk about Christianity again until we went to church next Sunday. Church was where God lived and he had no reason to be in our lives other than when we were there.
Due to that, I really didn’t have much of a faith at the time, and my family was pretty liberal (though there was racism, sexism and all sorts of other things hiding beneath the surface). What really made me liberal though was my primary school. It was a brand new school when I was in grade 2, and my school had a state of the art recycling program, new course outlines that involved protecting and loving the environment, and every year the whole school did a performance where each class sang songs and did skits about protecting the environment. I still remember the song my cousin’s class did (I was in the choir and got to sing it too…)
Everytime you spray a can
Toss a fridge or fry a pan
CFCs and Freon escape
They float up to the atmosphere
Killing ozone and it’s clear
Burning rays of sun seal our fate
We’ve got to stop now
To save it somehow
We’re destroying our planet
That we take for granted
We’re Killing the Ozone
Killing the Ozone
We’re Killing the Ozone
Yeah… that was normal for us. In that school, there was no racism, there was no harsh punishments, we learned about different religions and different cultures, our mascots were dolphins called “Care”, “Share”, and “Be Fair”, and their mother “Dynamite” and we got stickers in the colours of them if we did any, or all of those things.  They were even included in our school anthem which we sang at every assembly right after the national anthem:
Care, Share, Fair our dophins
And our mascot Dynamite
Try our best at Driftwood
And we always do what’s right
At this school, we took an afternoon to pray that the planes wouldn’t take off for the first Bush Administration Gulf War in the ‘90’s even though none of the students even realized what was going on.
And then in grade five, we graduated, we moved on to a middle school and we were out in the big world with kids from other schools who hadn’t been taught these things and just laughed at us when we tried to tell them not to litter, or to stay on the paths in the woods so they don’t hurt the undergrowth.
It was an eye opener for a lot of us.
It was even harder for me, because I moved schools, I moved to an entirely different town, where the kids hated French and Music class, where teachers were tired and didn’t seem to like even being at work. It was a hard adjustment, but what I had been taught in primary school stayed with me.
As I grew older I started dabbling into other religions, I didn’t like what Christianity was looking like to me, all the strict, angry people I saw on T.V. in protests, yelling into microphones complaining about one thing or another. It just wasn’t for me, especially when I had something catastrophic happened in my life and I felt that the ministers were all implying that I had done something to deserve it.
So for a while I floated around with nothing, but I felt strongly in my heart that I needed a faith, just something to believe in and to help me along. I knew that I couldn’t follow anything that didn’t go along with my morals, the fact that I feel strongly pro choice, strongly that every person is created equal no matter the gender or race, that sexuality isn’t important, it’s who the person is inside, not what they are outside or who they decide to love.
At that point in time I was searching long and hard, I experimented with not only religion but my sexuality, alcohol, and my styles. I tried Punk, Goth, some random thing that I came up with, but the thing I always found was that I was hiding. I was covering up and running from my pain, the pain that started with that catastrophic event. The pain that, no matter how fast or how far I ran, no matter how much I healed myself, would never go away.
It was about that time that I met my Husband. He really didn’t want anything to do with me because he could see that I was being real, I was hiding behind all the masks that I kept putting up. Luckily for me, I got a job where he worked and since he was my supervisor and I didn’t have a car, he had to drive me to and from work. Forty-five minutes in a car each way for four years will get a lot of talking and bonding done.
He was Christian, in fact, my friends at the time introduced him to me as “the Churchy” and immediately I knew I had to help the poor boy. He was clearly conservative, couldn’t be a very happy or nice person because of his faith. We had a lot of conversations where I tried to prove how wrong he was in his beliefs and how much better something else was. That was when he started showing me things.
He showed me that God isn’t who all those people screaming into the microphones on T.V. said he was, and that God didn’t just live at church, he wasn’t hatred, he wasn’t telling me that I had done something horrible to deserve what my life was.
In fact, God is love, God is healing, and God is liberal.
God loves every person on this Earth, no matter their skin colour, sexuality, religion or what not. We are his children and you don’t just turn around and hate your children because they don’t listen to something you say. God loves homosexuals, he made them that way, and even though he states in the bible that it’s not what he prefers, it doesn’t mean that there’s no hope for you. God loves Blacks, Asians, Native Americans, Whites; you name it, just like God put flowers of different colours to paint the country side, God made skin colours to make us beautiful, diverse, and different. If we were all the same, it would be boring.
My God is not the god of the Westborough Baptist Church. It is not the god of the FLDS. My God is a God of love, peace and happiness. My God sent his son to the Earth to preach that, and if you read the bible, truly read it, you will find examples of this in every chapter, in nearly every verse.
I am sick and tired of “Christians” making my God look like a horrible, mean, conservative god who only loves and cares those who follow the strict guidelines that these people think they need to adhere to.
My God loves everyone, and even if you don’t love him back, he’s still waiting for you.
I am a Christian, and I am liberal, and my God is too.


1 Comment »

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  1. That’s interesting.

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