1/3
All my life I’ve felt that something about religion and our culture didn’t add up. Something was missing. Something else was counterfeit. I’ve felt this way even as a young child, 6-7 year’s old, sitting in Sunday school surrounded by other happily singing children. As I grew older and became an adult, I rejected the Word as it was presented as being a package deal with organized religion.
Decades later, after years of hard won wisdom and spurred by an urgent need for personal growth, I revisited my sense of discordance to try and resolve it.
2/3
I’ve been humbled with pitiful inadequacy and the shame of past failures. I’ve been burdened with responsibilities, whom I love, and who direct my actions towards them and not my desires.
Now, as an anon and with a new understanding of Christ’s Message, I show up to muster; volunteering to fight this evil which few can see. I stand in line at attention, with a sharpened hoe and wearing my hastily mended version of the armor of God, ready to go and crush snakes. My fears are countered by my resolve. I will fight until I die; and fully expect this eventual outcome.
The sergeant calls me to duty. He is intimidating and utterly confident. He takes my weapons as if to inspect them. Then casts them aside. In their stead, I’m given a cardboard box filled with warm towels and bag of bacon scraps. I’m told to go rescue starving, feral kittens caught in a storm drain
