I left meetings a year ago but started only going every few weeks about two years ago. I’ve had doubts for YEARS and was doing the whole fake it till you make it the whole time. But in the back of my mind, I always had the thought, what happens if I’ve been restricting myself all these years because I’m just allowing a few “authorities” to control my thoughts and actions? All for the “hope of a saved and peaceful eternity.” And what happens if there ISNT an eternity. Did I do it all for naught?
I once said that to my mum and dad, and they answered with the reverse, “what happens if you don’t serve, and you lose out in the eternity you could have had?” But you know what finally got me? Peace.
I was living a certain way, so that I could guarantee peace for eternity…yet where was my peace today? The god I learned to fear was not a God of love but a god of wrath. And judgment. What happened to that God of love. Why was my focus more on the fear of a lost eternity and the actions of myself and others, rather than loving and welcoming peace and love into my life?
So, I stepped away. And PEEEEAAAAACE!!!!! And my heart and brain and soul rested. And it was amazing. But then Dean Bruer happened. And the atrocities of the church came to light. And I could deal with it all. I COULD.
But then I found out that someone I love more than life itself, someone I would give everything for, was a victim of CSA from someone that was supposed to be a beloved family member/elder/worker. And then another very close person came forward to me. And another. And I was crushed. I AM crushed. Because still to this day, there is fear to come forward because they aren’t believed. And “what good will it actually do at this point?”
And the straw that broke this camel’s back: Ed Alexander. Not because I loved him or thought he hung the moon. But because now I question every. Single. Brother (and sister for that matter!) that I loved. Because even if they didn’t DO the acts—they KNEW of the acts…and either chose to ignore or dismiss. I grew up walking on a worker’s shoes after gospel meeting every Sunday, but now I wonder how much he helped cover up.
The sister workers that immediately got me a lawyer and came breathing fire when my ex-husband became abusive and stalked me, how much did they cover up? The brother worker that baptized me (but I always thought was gay!) how much did he cover up? The brother worker that married us? The 12 workers that showed up to our wedding? Where do the questions stop?
I’m hurting, and I’m in pain for my friends and my family that have gone through so much. I myself don’t know that I’m a victim of CSA or SA (I am terrified of a certain type of hand/finger, and I have a completely black expanse when it comes to memories before I was six), but I wish so badly to wrap all the victims up into a massive love (or a gentle finger pressed to the back of your hand if you can’t handle touch anymore) and just hold you till the hurt hurts a little less.
I’m so thankful for this group. It’s been eye opening and super therapeutic. I appreciate each and every one of you. Thank you for the love I see every day and the lack of judgement or criticism towards each other. It’s such a balm.
Hurting,
June 20, 2023