christian (i still want to be one).

in your ocean, i'm ankle deep. -needtobreathe's opening lyrics to "something beautiful".


after asking me if I was a christian, her mouth began to tremor ever so slightly, mumbling something about how she just didn't know if I was one. i mean, i wouldn't treat you any differently if you weren't, she added, almost apologetically. and i don't know why but i felt like i could break in that moment.

i remembered how, growing up, i could always feel christianity in every body appendage but my heart. my heart wanted to believe, and sometimes i'd punish my body to try to make my heart believe; but i was only a child: my heart wanted love more than belief.

i felt christianity in my empty hands as the bread was broken and the hawaiian punch was passed. i was told you shouldn't take communion unless you were "right with God" so, at some point, i just stopped taking it. i felt it in my knees, buckling against the urge to run, when the really godly people got Spirit-slain and then had visions that so-and-so had to move to africa. i assumed i wasn't a really godly person because my tongue could never gush arabic or wanga and because i definitely didn't want to get slain in front of my church.

i felt it in my veins when the elder opened his door and i just stood there, streams raging down my face; stomach churning; hand, white and clenching paper: if you ever lay a hand on my brother again, i will fucking kill you. i meant every word. no one should ever have to feel christianity in their genitals. i felt it in my chest the afternoon my pastor called me and told me i would not be allowed to lead in worship anymore because of my struggle with same-sex attraction. i sobbed into the silence on the other end. i meant every tear. no one should ever have to feel christianity is about what they do with their genitals.

i told her i was a christian. but, i also told her, i don't go to church anymore. and somedays i hate the label so bad, i just would rather claim agnosticism or atheism. i'm not swimming in his ocean anymore, i'm "holding back, not sure about worship, about risking myself totally" (matt. 28, the message). but i would give anything to let the tide come and wash me from shore into love (the law is summed up in this), communion (closeness, intimacy), forgiveness (accepting it so i can give it), weakness (strength), into a christianity that feels like life again.