Redefining Religion

The Building 

​The​ preacher stood on the stage, one hand on the microphone and one hand on her heart.

"This Jesus I'm talking about," she said, with the conviction in her soul coming out of her mouth, "it's not a religion. It's a relationship. Just like you would have with a friend, only better, only more, because Jesus saved you!"
The crowd responded, encouraging the preacher to continue.
"Good word!" one congregant responded. So, the preacher, feeding off the encouragement the crowd offered up on a golden platter, pressed on with her sermon.
"This is not a religion—it doesn't come with a set of 'dos and don'ts'. There are no rules. God doesn't force you to change. He isn't forcing you to be in this relationship—it's totally up to you! When God created us, He created us to have freedom of choice, which means we can be as close to him as we want to be. Christianity is the only belief system where the creator came to his creation. It's the only belief system where God seeks out the people and the people don't have to seek out their God."
The preacher spoke with passion. She believed in her message with all her heart. She would have died for her belief and lost her soul in the process. She wouldn't lose her soul for the God she spoke about, she would lose it for the church and trying to impress those within the church.

This preacher had spent her life surrounded by the Christian faith and beliefs and, in her mid-teens, became heavily involved in the church.
All else fell by the wayside as she focused her passion, her time, and her energy into being part of the church and serving God. While it was said over and over that there was nothing anyone could do to impress God, that God loved every one of us, not for our works but for our humanity, the preacher watched those around her and saw how hard they worked. And she did the same. Friday nights, Saturday nights, Sunday mornings, Sunday afternoon leadership meetings, mid-week prayer meetings, weekend conferences, Easter services, special Christmas services. There was nothing she wouldn't do, nothing she would say no to.

Except for the friends with who she no longer spent time, worrying that they were unequally yoked, not on the same page, that they would taint her and corrupt her new view of the world. 
She no longer drank and decided never to date again unless it was with the intent to marry.
She was happy to sacrifice these things though—none of them was as important to her as the God she loved so dearly. She thought she was serving God; all of her sacrifices were to advance God's kingdom. Sacrificing time with family and time for self-care was worth it because she was doing something which stretched far beyond her. The legacy she was building would surpass her lifetime; it would last for generations to come. She no longer desired to work in mainstream roles; she only wanted to become a preacher, a pastor, spending all her time at church, changing the lives of all those she encountered.

And then, she was given a chance to speak on stage, in front of people—the ultimate honour. She secretly idolised those who spoke every week. How did they know so much about God and life and saving souls? People looked up to them, she looked up to them. Their height on the stage declaring to this young and deeply impressionable, want-to-be preacher that they were closer to God than she was. So, she trusted what they said. She didn't ask any questions because there was no way they would lead her astray. And now it was her turn to talk to everyone about communion—the ultimate sacrifice of God, the giving of his son. This was the reason she was doing all she was doing, the reason she was giving so much of herself. So she spoke, hands and voice shaking, her words flowing too fast, without taking a breath. It finished just as quickly as it had started.
It wasn't a good communion talk, so the budding preacher, youth pastor, maybe even one-day senior pastor, sat down with those she trusted so they could offer her constructive feedback on how to become better, be more prepared, set herself up for success next time.

Again, and again, and again, they gave her the chance to speak. She wasn't great—but they constantly told her that God had a great plan for her, God was doing his work, God was mending her self-esteem issues. It was like they knew exactly what her deepest fears were, and they did, God was telling them everything they needed to know about her. Her confidence slowly increased—but only whenever they told her she was good enough. When she was alone, she would feel guilty, like a fraud, and imposter. She would think about drinking, she would masturbate and lust after males, and feel jealous of her colleagues' nights out. She would lie to others (and herself) and when she was alone, she would swear. She would often speed in her car and she had developed a shopping addiction. She would feel, say and do all the things she was meant to be free of now that she was connected to the church, connected to God.
She was doing everything she was meant to do though. She was up the very front every weekend, she was encouraging the preacher, jumping and dancing to the music. She was there weekend in and out, one of the first to arrive and one of the last to leave. She raised her hands in worship, showing God that she had an open heart. She tithed her money, the first 10% of her wage, before tax, went to the church. She "faith promised" her money and anything extra she earned, or was given, went straight to the church because God had given that money to her so she should pay it forward to the church. She didn't agree with sinful things such as being gay or abortion. She certainly didn't believe in sex before marriage, and to make life easier for men, she made sure she dressed as modestly as possible by covering the three B's—boobs, bum and belly. She tried to read her bible and pray every day. She listened to Christian music so that God could talk to her through it. She believed that her faith was the only true faith and that everyone else had been deeply misled, which was the devil's fault. She never questioned the bible or any person that presented the bible. She went to week-long conferences, and she went overseas on mission trips. Any outreach focuses the church had, she would be there, helping however she could. Community assignments, school outreach, children, youth, Christmas extravaganzas. She pulled people up on their lack of commitment to the church as it showed their lack of commitment to God. And finally, when she was given a department to lead, she expected the same from all those in it—it was an honour to be there, an honour to serve God and an honour that the church would even allow them to serve, so she forced them to take it seriously. There were lives at stake!

For someone who believed that you didn't need to work for God's love, she was certainly working very hard.

But there was one thing she couldn't do; she couldn't speak in tongues and she could never understand why. She was so ashamed and embarrassed. So, she made it up, she pretended she could. But she would go home and cry because she knew the truth and she believed it was God holding back from her, which she couldn't understand. She was doing everything right. She was following all of the rules that weren't rules; she was walking the walk and talking the talk. She started to feel that it must be all about how you presented yourself, so she would get dressed in her coolest clothes, sit at the front of the church, clap, dance, raise her hands and pretend. Pretend, pretend, pretend. And no one saw past the façade she had built.
The more she went on, the more she lost herself in pretending, in pushing herself to be all that the church needed her to be. When she found out she was pregnant, she was devastated, fearing the church wouldn't want her anymore after she had become a mum. And when her beautiful baby came into the world, her mental health declined even further. But she had become so good at pretending, and people who love God don't struggle with mental illness because God is the giver of life. She continued going to meetings, clapping her hands, preaching on stage, pretending, pretending, pretending.

Until one day, she did the wrong thing and could no longer pretend.

She cheated on her husband.
​
Alexis, let's stop for a moment. I need to take a breath.
I need you to know that this preacher, she was me.

​

“
She was me

The Breaking

As I write, I can see where I went wrong in my faith journey. I was more connected to the church—I cared more about what the leaders thought—than I was to God. For a God who didn't have a list of do's and don'ts, there was certainly a lot that I did and didn't do. I had been so committed to church for over half of my life; I had built every part of my being on top of these rules and guidelines. They were the foundation of who I was.
I think if I could go back, I would have just focused on God and what he wanted, rather than focusing on everyone else and fulfilling their desires. I never wanted to miss an opportunity, so I said "yes" to everything, and this was to my detriment.

When the church found out about my transgression, I was heartbroken. When they told me they were going to announce it to two congregations of more than 250 people, I was confused and lost.
I begged them not to, I cried and pleaded desperately, "Please, please don't tell people about my sins, and if you do, tell them about yours too. Tell them about the double-takes you've done around females, tell them about the times you've lied, the times you've watched porn, or harboured hateful thoughts."
I was told because of my leadership position, my transgression needed to be shared. I was told that the congregation deserved to know.
"Show me," I asked, "show me in the bible where it says to announce it from the stage, where every person needs to know about it."
They couldn't.
"I've confessed my sins!" I pleaded, with streams of tears rolling down my face. "James 5:16 says, 'Therefore, confess your sins to one another, and pray for one another, that you may be healed and restored.' I've confessed. It says nothing about announcing it from the stage!"
I continued to share every story I could think of, every bible verse that would back me up. The woman at the well in John 4; the woman caught in the act of adultery in John 8; Luke 17:3. Everything I could think of was part of my arsenal, but it changed nothing. These people decided what would happen with my information without my knowledge and then told me that I had the choice to be there or to not be there, but they would go ahead anyway.
And for the first time in eleven and a half years, I stopped trusting what they said and questioned them. I went from trusting that they would do their very best to look after me in what was a very confusing and painful time for our whole family, to deciding I would never trust someone else with my faith or beliefs again.
So they announced it and we were there both times. I remember the announcement clearly; when they said my name and when they had people walk over to me to place hands on me to pray. I initially took comfort in knowing that there would be some who had never heard of me, but when they gather around me to pray, I truly had nowhere to hide. I have never felt more shame in my life and I questioned if this were a religion I could be a part of. I can't explain this shame adequately; I can only say that it felt like I wore a cloak that everyone could see. It was heavy and the weight of it often left me gasping for air. I couldn't take it off; it was padlocked around my neck. I had been told that there is no condemnation in Jesus Christ, but this sure felt like condemnation, and shame, and embarrassment.
So, I started questioning everything I had ever thought or believed.
The more I reflect on the time I spent in organised religion, the more I realise how controlled my day to day life was. I was told where my money should go, where I should be and when I should be there. I was told where I should help out and how often. I was told what to believe about other beliefs and those with alternate views. My whole life was built around this; my whole identity was based on what I should do and how I should behave within the church.
When I left, I was a pile of broken shards. I had to try to work out which pieces of glass reflected who I was and who I was told to be. After over eleven years submerged in that routine, those beliefs, those rules, I had no idea who I was.

The Rediscovery

My deconstruction of religion started with a deconstruction of myself. When I cheated, I was appalled with myself—it was something I had never even considered that I could be capable of—but then I remembered that I had been pretending my way through church. This made me question all of my actions, thoughts and beliefs up until that point. Building myself back up was very messy, I slowly worked through my beliefs and my standards and built them back up, block by block. This new foundation was a bit shaky at first and I often took a block out and replaced it with one that seemed to fit better.
Then I started to break down my beliefs around the church and God. For a long time, I wasn't able to, I was so damn angry at both of them. Throughout my church journey, I thought God and the church were one. And the people who stood on the stage knew God the most (in my eyes), so when they hurt me, I believed that God had hurt me. Their actions came directly from God himself. When I was hurt by the church, I thought it was God hurting me. When I was shamed by the church, I thought it was God shaming me. When I felt as if the church hated me, I thought it was God who hated me. I thought God was disappointed, that He had rejected and abandoned me… but it wasn't God, it was the church.

What God says and what the church says, they're not always the same. I've realised that some people don't like God because of who the church makes him out to be.

It took me a long time to separate the two. Now, I see God very differently from how I see the church. The further along this journey I progress, the more I realised that it wasn't God who hurt me; it was the people's confused understanding of God. After some time, I have broken down what I had learnt over a lifetime. I have rebuilt my beliefs, not in the church, but God.

Alexis, I hope you don't simply live and breathe everything I ever teach you or tell you. I hope that you're able to break down and reconstruct everything in a way that you can live with. I also hope that you don't take what you learn at church as gospel… because it's not. And don't confuse what the church says, for what God says and who he is.

I've started working my way through some of the beliefs I had always held. I've explored and researched them, critiqued them and worked out where they sat within my soul.
The church often talks of childlike faith, which I believed was trusting what was said and not question anything. Now more than ever I'm convinced that childlike faith is asking "why" over and over again. Children ask a lot of questions from a very young age and maybe this is what God desires, for us to ask the tough questions and find the answers. Like, is masturbation wrong? What about sex before marriage? Where does the Bible suggest that this is how it should be?
What about tithing and faith promise offerings? What if God gave me that extra money to go out for dinner, or spoil myself, or pay for my insurance or car registration? What if he didn't give it to me to give to the church and I shouldn't feel bad for not giving it to them?
And, Alexis, what about all those meetings that took away time from you and time from me and time from your dad and our family? Were they even necessary? What good did they do?
What about gay marriage and abortions? Do I disagree with them, or did I only disagree because I wanted to present that way to the congregation?
Oh my God, and swearing! Is saying 'fuck' really such a terrible thing? Is saying 'fricken' or 'flip' really any better? If you're just replacing the word 'fuck' and it's got the same emotion behind it, then it's the same thing. So, surely we should just cut out the bullshit and fucking swear.

I've learnt that I have to trust the brain, heart and intuition God has gifted me with, even though I've only been using it for myself for the past 7 years.

So as I build my faith back up I'm aware that there is a disconnect between God and the church.
Who I viewed God to be when I attended church is not who I view him to be now. I can now connect with God myself, whereas when I was involved in organized religion I trusted that the leaders would connect with God to lead me (and others), so as long as I was connected to them my faith would be safe and secure. The church provides the congregation with the outlets to connect with God through music, worship experiences, words of prophecy, preaching, and mid-week meetings. However, the congregation isn't always taught how to recreate this connection in the space of their own homes and lives. Due to this I became reliant on church to assist me in meeting my spiritual needs.
I have learnt that my faith is not black and white.
I have learnt that God isn't about shame, or anger or hatred.
He deeply loves everyone.
Even when the church fails to represent this.
I have learnt that every faith is worthy of respect and I can no longer claim that mine is the only right faith—though it is the faith that is right for me.

I still go to church from time to time because I have hope that they can do better. Now that I'm on my journey of learning about God, I feel like I can connect with the God that I know when I go there.
And I've got to be honest, I like this God and he likes me. He likes everyone—no matter their gender orientation, sexual preference, skin colour or societal status. If he were running the church directly, all people would be loved equally. Their flaws and transgressions wouldn't be pointed out because God would say, "Let those without sin throw the first stone," so no stone would be thrown. He would work alongside all of us extending love, grace and peace. People wouldn't reject him, because he wouldn't use shame to enforce change, his love would create this naturally.

And I don't know the big answers to things like creation, or why terrible things happen to good people or babies, but, right now, I don't need to reconstruct those parts of my faith—when I do, I will.

I am no longer trying to impress God and I am no longer feeling manipulated by the church and trying to impress them. And, because of that, I am free to explore my beliefs and this connection with God that I now have. I feel more connected to God now than I ever have before, without the meetings and serving and time spent giving to the church, I now actually have time free to spend with God.

God never wanted me to work myself into the bone. He never wanted me to fake a relationship with him. He never needed me to attend meetings or conferences or overseas travel. He certainly wasn't interested in my pretend. The church was though, and I, unfortunately, believe that the church pushes these expectations onto their congregants through the guise of doing God's work and advancing God's kingdom.
The church God's representative, needs to give those internally and externally a more accurate representation of who He is. The God that is presented to the world, through the churches doing, is manipulative, mean, judgmental, cruel, unaccepting, and not inclusive.
I think the only way I've been able to rebuild and rediscover my faith is because I have separated the church and God.
After separating them I can truly say I'm in a living building, encouraging, loving, accepting, grace-filled relationship. However, before this no matter what I said on stage, no matter how much conviction I said it with, I was just a part of what felt like a dead, stagnant and soul-sucking religion.

God didn't want me perfect and pretending.
God wanted me broken and honest.

I have never shared this before because it was never my story. When it was announced against my will, the story was taken from me. Privately I've shared it, but I've always had a deep fear that people would respond the same way church did; rocks being thrown at me while I was already broken and bleeding, saying they would support me and our family back to health and then abandoning us. I've kept it close to my heart.

Maybe the church, and not all churches, are about people and not about God.
God is the one bending down and helping the adulterous woman & man, helping the prostitute, helping the one addicted to gambling, helping the one in the LGBTQIA+ community back up after the church has so brutally pushed them down, shamed them and told them their lives aren't acceptable.

And that's who I want to be, the one bending down, helping others up.
And that's why I can rebuild and redefine my faith.
Is my faith perfect? Fuck no. Will I fail? Fuck yes. But I hope that when I fail there are a whole lot of other failures around me, reflecting love and grace and forgiveness.
I hope I never represent the church.
I hope I only ever represent God.