In October of 1992, I met Dusty. The minute we started talking on the phone it was as though we had known one another our entire lives. Had I not had three toddlers playing in the next room we would have spoken for hours that first day. But, more about this another time.
Dusty was the one person I could trust with my entire life and I needed someone at that time. She recognized things about me I had not even considered. She was also dying. Doctors had done the same thing to her they were doing to me. Assuming that because she was a woman and they couldn't find the source of the problem immediately, she was hysterical. By the time they diagnosed her Lupus it was so advanced they could only fill her full of steroids and hope. If the disease didn't kill her, the treatment was bound to. Were it not for her I would never have found the doctor who saved my own life.
She had a ten year jump on me with the health issues. She also had already experienced all the prejudice and hatred of disabled persons I, as yet, had not. Dusty had already come to the conclusion that religion was little more than a panacea for people who preferred not to think for themselves.
Over the next three years we spent as much time as we could with one another discussing our spiritual lives, our health and the inevitability of death. I brought a pastor I liked into the conversations. He did not try to bring us back to the church, he helped us explore all the possibilities - including the church.
When Dusty died on May 20, 1995, I was lost. It was probably the darkest time of my life because I lost my soul mate and my marriage at the same time. I kept going for the sake of my children.
Although I did go back to church after I moved back to Iowa, I just didn't have the same faith I once did. I had seen the truth. Once I wrapped my mind around the fact that a group of men with an agenda formed the Christian religion I could no longer accept what anyone was telling me without questioning it. Although at the time I considered myself lost and completely alone, I see now that it was the most significant time as well. I was Jesus sitting in the desert seeking the true God.
The Evangelical movement was sweeping the country. Our small church was infiltrated and, by the time I was done with them, I was convinced they were working for the wrong team. I still am.
For awhile a friend and I visited several of the small holy roller churches. We thought it was hilarious the way people would drop like flies and roll around in ecstasy. At least once a month someone would announce that he knew the date for the end of the world and the faithful would prepare. Every time the date would pass and they would start looking for the next one. It was all fun and games until someone got hurt.
There were a series of little things that ended my daughter's faith altogether. At camp she was forced to stay in one area until she spoke in tongues. Much sharper than I at that age she immediately began speaking nonsense with a euphoric look on her face. They let her leave. Then she was told she would be going to Hell with her gay friends. She walked out of the church and became an atheist. Can't say that I blame her.
In the end for me, it was a parting of ways. I have always had certain gifts. I could tell when someone died, even if they were miles away. I literally feel the pain of others when they are injured. Since childhood I've had dreams of things to come. I can look at a photograph and discern things. I rarely spoke to anyone about them.
One day the pastor decided the entire congregation would take a spiritual gifts test to determine where they belonged in the ministry. I scored very high in several things; but, primarily, in prophecy. Excited, he called me in to talk about it. He told me it wasn't necessarily about predicting what will happen but about discerning what is true. So, I discerned and he suggested I leave the church. Suddenly, I became a false prophet.
At that moment I knew, better than I knew my own name, that I was hitting upon the real problem. I wasn't a false prophet. I was telling him exactly what I knew to be wrong with the church. I wasn't deliberately misleading anyone. Even if I turn out to be wrong in the end, I'm not a false prophet. That implies that I knew I was lying.
After I left a new pastor tried to steal the church building and create a new church using his own theology. He didn't succeed but it was now obvious to me that anyone who believes he can take what is not his in such a deliberate and evil way was no Christian.
I did leave behind my entire faith for a time. However, I do believe in a Higher Power and I knew Jesus was a real man with some very special gifts. I also knew he would have nothing to do with the church as it is today. I don't believe in Hell but, if I did, it would be Phelps, Robertson and the others who teach hate who would be going, not me.
So, now you know my story. Well, part of it anyway. I've come to this point in my life after giving Christianity ample time to prove itself. And I certainly have no problem with the more liberal Christians. Who am I to say Jesus was not a god? I wasn't there.
If I were to put my goal into one phrase it is that I do not wish to change anyone or bring them to see everything as I do; I want to challenge everyone to think for themselves. Don't be sheep. It only makes it much easier for someone to steal your soul.
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