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First thing's first, I absolutely believe in God. It makes no difference to me if other people don't or have a different faith altogether. As long as your truth leads you to love and acceptance, you'll get no judgment from me.



This is the thing; As a child, every- literally, every- choir directer I knew was openly gay. Looking different might have gotten you a head shake from the older women, but the young mother's would just smile and say, "Mom, that's the forbidden these days." Some preachers might have preached hate, but the next Sunday, they found their congregration a little light.



But the past decade or so, there's been a shift from love to fear, from fear to hate. The first time I noticed was at the funeral of a friend's brother. For some reason, the Preacher felt the need to speak out against 'Harlots' who spoke out of turn and dressed in flashy clothes. Considering the young man died in an attempted robbery, I didn't see what this had to do with why we were there. Deciding that this man was hateful and dealing with some personal issue that apparently overrode the needs of a grieving family, I decided not to go to that church again.



Sadly, the following week, my mother's godmother passed away. I didn't know her in life, but I'd heard stories- all of the children came to her whenever they needed anything, she kept all of the family photos, she faithfully attended church. Considering I had dyed my hair purple days before, and what had happened at the last funeral service, I was reluctant to attend, but my mother wanted me there, and she said that considering her stepmother made no secret of being a lesbian to her fellow church attendees, purple hair shouldn't be a problem. Yeah...



The Preacher took one look at me and, I know it sounds unreal- imagine how it felt, started quoting "Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live", she pointed directly at me, gesturing and speaking an old Southern dismissal prayer. All I could think when it was happening was, 'I'm wearing a hat and I didn't even put any makeup on.' Afterwards, I started to ask my mother if it seemed like that woman was speaking to me directly. Before I could get the question out she said, "Yes." "I tried to look-" "Don't-Don't change who you are for ignorant people like that."



My faith in God? Unquestioning. My faith in people? I know plenty of good people, I'm just not sure how many are left in church anymore.



Still, I can't forget the way it felt to be in church as a child. The community, the charity. If you couldn't do for yourself, the church would help you out. When my family didn't have a place to stay years before, that same Preacher who would later give the harlot speech let us stay in a house he owned, rent free. Those old women who shook their heads always had dinner ready if you wanted to come and visit. Always a hug, a welcome, a God bless you.



I moved out of state, no Goth community to speak of- I wondered what the church community was like here. I heard people here were more conservative, but maybe if I looked more...like them? Remove all temptation; I gave away my lace skirts, my favorite Victorian jacket- no, it can't pass for normal, stop trying to keep it- my collars and floor length tartan dresses.



A hug at the door? Unexpected, but nice. A sermon on not judging people based on what others say about them- a sign from God? A couple of weeks pass, and even though I'm still waiting for the other shoe to drop, I feel a glimmer of hope begin in my heart. Then, Easter rolls around.



Because so many of the people there that day only show up on holidays, he's going to give us all words to live by for the rest of this year and the year to come. Have faith, do God's will- and know that he had a vision. God told him that hurricanes and floods were coming, only the faithful would be protected- terrorists and gays and and people who didn't believe in Jesus were to blame. It wasn't enough to believe in God if you didn't believe in Jesus.



I think my brain just cracked in half. But maybe that's because, in front of the entire congregation, the Preacher starts talking to me directly about needing to trust my congregation. And how, if there are some issues from my childhood that have given me trust issues, I need to confront them. Sure...I'm plenty traumatized- now. I really do appreciate that, if you weren't the problem, I'd have a whole room full of people willing to support me.



Faith in people? Still there. Faith in Church?...



I was told often as a kid that God is love. I accepted it, even though I didn't really know what it meant. But through a personal, spiritual experience, one that has shaped my faith to this day, I came to understand that that phrase is literal. God IS love. Unconditional love and acceptance, and not just in the abstract sense of the things we do everyday. When a person is truly good and loving, you can see it in them, and no matter what they look like on the outside, they're beautiful to us. By the same turn, when someone's face twist into a hateful sneer, being 'different' yourself, I'm sure you've seen it; no matter how beautiful that person is, they are suddenly ugly.



Even the most casual study of history shows us that religion changes with the state of the world. When we're at peace and all is well, religion is generally love and acceptance. When there is turmoil and death, people fortify their faith by uniting against a common enemy. The nature of religion changes as often as people do, but I don't think the nature of God ever does. God is creator and nurturer, God wants nothing but good for each and every one of us.



I don't think religion is killing God- it hasn't managed to do so for me. What I do think that hate is killing faith, but what I've found to be even more true is that holding on to that faith, that love, no matter what, has made me happier than giving in to anybody's ideas of what I should and shouldn't believe.