4. Intentions in The Stuff That's Not Interesting But Is The Most Interesting Stuff I'll Write

So I decided to go to my family’s church yesterday. I wanted to see if this was the source of the political hatred that has suddenly washed over my family.

Let me tell you, I haven’t been to church in YEARS, but I was raising in the church, so I always know what to expect. I also knew that my mother wasn’t going because she was still sick, so I wouldn’t have to be paraded around like a little trophy. This was the church that my grandmother went to before she died, and I knew that my grandfather spends almost all of his time working for the church now.

Now, I am someone who has a complicated view of religion. I no longer really affiliate myself with any specific belief system (although, if I had to label myself, I’d probably be a Satanist… long story, but my favorite part about Satanism is that we don’t evangelize), but I understand religion, especially Christianity. I understand what it does for people, what kinds of needs it serves, and so I don’t really judge people for being religious. I get more concerned if they are roped into believing things that run contrary to human decency (it could be argued all religions do that, but in reality, they don’t in their direct texts, people just cherry pick to make a case for alienating others, but that’s another story entirely).

Specifically, I wanted to understand this church’s place within the politics at large in America.

There were things I was prepared for, the constant hellos (and then frowns when I refused to shake their hands), the “let me pray for you” speeches (why do churches seem to have a prayer quota?), the terrible music, the out-of-context scripture choices to support a flimsy argument (yes, Jesus said that, but the verse you chose from Jeremiah is actually referencing a specific story and is completely unrelated to what you are talking about, but it had the word “seek” in it, so go off, I guess), and of course the altar call (which is the “how many people did I lead to Christ today to make me feel better about my awful skills as a public speaker” quota).

Then there was the thing that I wasn’t prepared for but probably should have been.

Before the service began, I was sitting at a little table in the corner of the cafe drinking my coffee, eating my muffin, and eyeing anyone who looked like they were going to come over and disturb my solitude with some nonsensical platitude (I know, I wasn’t a very warm church-goer). Now my table happened to be right next to a hallway where I heard a family praying over someone.

“Mommy, just give me my pills,” I heard a voice say.

“You just had one earlier this morning, and we want the Holy Spirit to heal you during service today,” was the reply he got.

Then a family of five people came around the corner and smiled at me, and I smiled back. They ended up sitting two rows in front of me and I realized as the service began, that their son (he was probably around 17) had some kind of disorder. I’m not sure what it was, but his head kept shaking, he was slapping either is leg (or his mother, which might not have been the disorder) and then he started howling uncontrollably.

The older white couple immediately near them started scowling in their direction because they couldn’t control him.

It was at this point, I started crying. To my grandfather, with whom I sat, and my cousin, it probably looked like I was moved by the pastor’s non-sensical words (“young people don’t deserve to be rich, unless it’s part of God’s providence!” WTF does that mean?), but really I was crying for that poor young man.

He had medication to make him feel better but his family refused to give it to him because they wanted some kind of divine intervention. I understand good intentions, I really do, but I’ve made catastrophic mistakes and hurt a lot of wonderful people by ignoring a better course simply because my good intentions were taking me down a different road.

Your child is in pain. You can remedy that pain. And you don’t. You won’t. It broke me. Right there.

My grandfather was going on and on about how it’s not an illness, it’s a demon inside of him, and I should have expected that he would say that. When I had the flu earlier this year and asked him to pick me up some DayQuil, instead he came over and laid hands on me to “cast out the demon of infirmity”… really, I just wanted some fucking DayQuil.

My little brother didn’t even stay for the service, so I know that they are not the source of his crazy politics… but I do know they are the source of his indifference to suffering. Because this is the inference to be made by these intentions, if suffering is supposed to end, God will end it and all I can do is pray for quick intervention by the Lord.

And you know what, I think that sums up America right now.