I cannot begin to describe to you how I have come to the place of de-conversion and so I will not. It was a thoughtful process that has released me in ways I didn't know were possible.
This past Sunday I packed up my books. A lifetime collection of Christian fiction, non-fiction and Bibles that are, for the moment, housing in my garage. It was a deeply moving thing to go through all my books and extract out the items that resoundingly relayed a message I no longer believe.
I have fond memories of many of those books and so it was with nostalgia that I packed them away. It didn't feel right having them in my bookshelves and near my bed, intermingled with books about parenting, fiction and finance.
It is like there has been a death. A cleansing death. Death is not often cleansing but painful and likely to rob you of joy. For me, the death of the faith I was brought up in is indeed cleansing. Instead of forcing my mind to conform to the thoughts that made my insides reel, I can acknowledge that my mind and heart and instincts were right all along.
I am certain that if you have never changed your religion (particularly if you were a part of that religion for any significant period of time) then you won't understand what I am referring to. It's a peculiar thing to have statements, songs, prayers, sayings, etc. that once were comforting and sensible seem like utter nonsense. It's very much like when you fall in love with someone and the relationship ends in utter destruction and you look at that person and wonder, "Why the hell did that EVER make sense? Why was I with them? What did I see in them?" The very person you once found deeply attractive is now equally repulsive. It is similar to this with leaving a faith behind. While my old belief system is not repulsive to me it is hard to understand why it ever made sense.
So I now embark upon this journey of integration into a faith that aligns so well with what I feel that I have always known. It's as though the blinders of another's choices that been removed and me, free to choose for myself, can see clearly for the first time. And yet, I have seen it before. It is as though I have having faith deja vu. The things that bothered me before I now no longer have to concern myself with because they are not a part of the place I am now. When you find a faith that shares the same goals as you, the same priorities, the same God; it's like finding the perfect lover and all you want to do is spend more time there, soaking in the moment.
So I take measured steps, moving toward my new faith with the singular goal of open-eyed understanding and the desire to make this union a lasting one.
This past Sunday I packed up my books. A lifetime collection of Christian fiction, non-fiction and Bibles that are, for the moment, housing in my garage. It was a deeply moving thing to go through all my books and extract out the items that resoundingly relayed a message I no longer believe.
I have fond memories of many of those books and so it was with nostalgia that I packed them away. It didn't feel right having them in my bookshelves and near my bed, intermingled with books about parenting, fiction and finance.
It is like there has been a death. A cleansing death. Death is not often cleansing but painful and likely to rob you of joy. For me, the death of the faith I was brought up in is indeed cleansing. Instead of forcing my mind to conform to the thoughts that made my insides reel, I can acknowledge that my mind and heart and instincts were right all along.
I am certain that if you have never changed your religion (particularly if you were a part of that religion for any significant period of time) then you won't understand what I am referring to. It's a peculiar thing to have statements, songs, prayers, sayings, etc. that once were comforting and sensible seem like utter nonsense. It's very much like when you fall in love with someone and the relationship ends in utter destruction and you look at that person and wonder, "Why the hell did that EVER make sense? Why was I with them? What did I see in them?" The very person you once found deeply attractive is now equally repulsive. It is similar to this with leaving a faith behind. While my old belief system is not repulsive to me it is hard to understand why it ever made sense.
So I now embark upon this journey of integration into a faith that aligns so well with what I feel that I have always known. It's as though the blinders of another's choices that been removed and me, free to choose for myself, can see clearly for the first time. And yet, I have seen it before. It is as though I have having faith deja vu. The things that bothered me before I now no longer have to concern myself with because they are not a part of the place I am now. When you find a faith that shares the same goals as you, the same priorities, the same God; it's like finding the perfect lover and all you want to do is spend more time there, soaking in the moment.
So I take measured steps, moving toward my new faith with the singular goal of open-eyed understanding and the desire to make this union a lasting one.
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