I've Put My Finger On It & Religiousness in meh...

I’m bored.
I’m lonely.
I’m kind of helpless.
I’m preoccupied with aging and death.

The preoccupied with aging and death thing. I’ve been on this morbid trip once before. With death being in our faces so much these days, I can’t help but think about it. I think about myself and my age in comparison to how I feel mentally, then how I feel physically. It’s weird. I think about the generation before me. My grandparents generation is gone. All of them, practically. I think about my mother. I think about my uncles, my dad, my aunts, and older cousins. I try to look at things from a spiritual view, but I have a constant struggle with religion, spirituality and things of that nature which is rather ironic being the product of a preacher man and a devout Christian woman.

There are many arguments. How can a black person serve the God of white people? They were forced into accepting this religion, etc, yadda, blah. I just don’t know what to believe sometimes. I belive there is a God. Be it, the Muslim’s God, the Jewish God, the Christian God, God is all things. God is not a woman, not a man. God just is. I believe Jesus was/is the son of God. I don’t think it’s right that God has a middle man. Jesus, the prophet Mohommed, whoever else serves as the middle man, I don’t think it’s right. If I needed something from my dad, I wouldn’t go to my brother and be like, “Say man,” and kiss his but a little bit, then get down to what I need from dad. Jesus’ blood washed away sins and sickness, for that I am forever grateful. But still. I’m sorry if this seems blasphemous, but as I’ve gotten older, and as I’ve seen the church around me descend into a den of gossip (it’s always been that) self righteous folks, the I’m right & you’re wrong type folks, and choir competitions (who want to have the best names, the best solo singers, the best screamers) I’ve become jaded, cynical with religion.

I sit back when I go to church, if I go to church now and just watch the people. I remember when I was growing up, when people started shoutin (the spirit moves them to…well…move, dance, scream, shout, flail, etc) it was a hit of the spirit on them. It wasn’t something that was planned or timed with the music. This one lady at my dad’s church would make everyone get up and start shoutin. I’m like, No thank you. I would not participate in that. That’s how the devil moves in. I’m concerned with the sincerity for God in the Church. My step siblings, hell my siblings period. And maybe I feel a certain way because of how I was brought up in church. My parents were never married and so of course I lived with my mother and went to church where she went to church. Where we went to church, and we went to plenty of them, you don’t play with God. You don’t play about church. You don’t fake anything because God is not a plaything and he will take you out. But even still, my aunt, an ordained minister, used the pulpit, used God’s name to come up with some bullcrap about me. Accused me of some things that probably contributed to my promiscuity when I was a teen. Then watching my half siblings, my step siblings and everyone basically at my dad’s church do one thing in church and come outside of it, cuss, fight, those that used to smoke smoked. Crazy.

I once visited my friend’s church. His wife’s father is the minister there. I was there for the word. I was there for the worship. I was not impressed with this church, but I was not going to fake church just to make him believe I was into it when I wasn’t. I went to church with them twice and BOTH times got called out like the devil was standing behind me like a boxing coach to be prayed for. The woman, a deaconess or a mother, I don’t know what her place was, but she was in my face allegedly speaking in a spiritual tongue and spitting at the same time, “Yah yah yah yah yah” I just stood there with my eyes closed and hands raised getting more irritated than holy. Not good. I eventually, let off a couple of Thank-you-Jesus’ and a (forced) tear slide down and then I was good to go.

I didn’t mention I was spiritually sensitive, did I? I feel God in the message. I hear truth in the word. I once shouted when I was 15. I don’t know if God was really with me that day or if it was because I had been with my family all day or if it was because I was in church all day. I know during evening service, I was feeling it. I was in it. Elbow deep with my hands raised, “Hallelujah” leaping joyfully from my mouth. Before I knew it I was gone. stomp stomp stomp stomp. Some folks call that “Catching the Holy Ghost.” My older cousin, I think took my glasses off my face at some point and gave them back to me when I was done. Tears streammed from my face. That’s a dead give away for me when God is in his holy temple. I have tears upon tears when he touches my soul. I know my way around the spirit of the Lord. So I don’t fake and I don’t play when it comes to God and church.

I know when I’m being deceived and when I’m being told the truth. But sometimes I have more questions than answers and no one to answer them but God, but sometimes, He don’t answer back, but I know that’s my fault. Sometimes I’m answered in my dreams. On those occasions, I need the dream deciphered because I don’t know.

Wow. That went longer than I thought. Well, hope you were enlightened into the brain that is mine.

Kindest regards,
Sister