Disenchanted

When real-life crisis occurred in 2020, Christianity stopped being a comfort. Implications of god-appointed authority and unanswered prayers pushed me out of faith and towards a search for truth.

At church we had been weeks deep in a series that dissected the book of Romans. I had tried my best to find it engaging, but I have Attention Deficit Disorder, and it was difficult to maintain focus after so many weeks of the same old things.

It didn’t help that the first chapter went over men giving themselves up to ‘unnatural relations’ with other men, and women the same, which was apparently something God found dishonorable. I had gay friends by that point, and though I was raised to ‘pray for’ the LGBT community, these days was praying for their benefit, not their conversion & salvation necessarily. (Romans 1:24-27)

I was actively choosing to disagree with parts of the Bible. I was resenting early morning wakeups on Sundays more and more as I grew older and my time became more important to me. But I’d feel pressure, and so up I would get and off to church I would go. My children were dropped off at Sunday School, and I endured 20 minutes of praise & worship before the message began.

The Pastor continued to educate us on Romans. Then we hit Romans 13: 1-7, the one that says God appoints authority, so fall in line.

When I was sixteen I had branded the Anarchy symbol on my arm, deeply disavowed was I towards ‘the man.’ So, I already had a long history of not liking government influences. Listening to Punk Rock Devil Music will do that to a person, I’m told. But I took more of an issue with the deep analysis of the story othe passage was telling us. If god had appointed a racist, sexist con-man to office, god’s plan was fucked.

Still, I went to church. A couple months passed and life was moving along. We were still trudging through Romans, but were nearing the end of it now. I’d heard something about a “Corona Virus”, didn’t think it a great name, and went on assuming it would disappear like most world events. I had just gotten a pretty good promotion at work. Things were beginning to look hopeful. I remember I got a phone call from my kid’s school stating that the county would be doing virtual learning for the next 2 weeks due to a concern over the virus.

I was excited about it, getting to spend some quality time with my kids was going to be awesome! And it was. But then – more shutdowns, more layoffs, and more uncertainty. Two weeks became two more, needing to flatten the curve was their justification, and I agreed with it. Let’s do what we can to prevent this crap from getting worse.

The news really began to cover the virus in earnest. My phone turned into a slot machine of graphs and bad news. TikTok was my primary Social Media platform of choice, and all around the world were stories of lockdown. I remember seeing videos of Italy with I believe it was dolphins in their city canals, talk of the ‘world healing’. Grocery stores here quickly began running out of supplies. My concerns were less centered around Toilet Paper and more devoted to insulin. Something I would die without.

My fear grew teeth when the CDC finally said the word that included me: immunocompromised. Diabetes made being sick worse, so I especially didn’t want to get it now. So, I washed my hands and kept hand sanitizer in my home.

Next, a family member called in a calm, yet urgent tone. Their sources were warning of a full lockdown, and I needed to stock up. I went out, and I bought what I thought was important. I wondered if it would be enough, and if it wasn’t, would there be any more when it was needed? I checked out and left, and began to pray.

I became obsessed with tracking the spread of the virus. In what I can only call an act of insanity, I began to frequently update the website that showed confirmed cases worldwide, as well as confirmed deaths. I remember playing Plague Inc. on my phone years ago, and how satisfying it would be to fully infect the world with a crazy, mutating, life-ending epidemic. Now, the thought mortified me. My friend offered me some pot around that time, and I began smoking a couple of nights a week, or when my racing thoughts couldn’t slow down.

Despite my prayers, my very best prayers mind you, the world was plunging further into darkness. I was luckier than most, and was able to maintain my job remotely as an essential worker. That status earned me a $1,000 bonus at the end of the year – so great was my return on investment for the company.

I continued to watch TikTok, and I had not yet learned the term Doom Scroll, but Doom Scroll is exactly what I did. I found happy things, but more and more it was COVID-19. People dying, people dancing, people promoting their Only Fans. You never knew what you were going to get. Mostly, I continued to get scared.

I prayed to god for comfort. I prayed for an end to the ever-increasing anxiety. I promised to read the bible more, and I did. Despite my kept promise, my prayers went unanswered. I do not know why I was still surprised at that point, but it occurred to me, that I was surprised my prayers weren’t answered. Why hadn’t they been? Were we being punished for our badness, for as Romans told us – there are none righteous, no not one. (Romans 3:10-12)

I began to have panic attacks. I began to drink a little bit more. That didn’t seem to help, but only ended up with me feeling worse. I turned to the weed, and it helped. I’d get lost in my own mind, exploring an eternal dialogue. I pondered on the troubles I had with god, and found myself questioning his motives. People were dying, people were scared, people were going off the rails. And the whole world was praying. They might have prayed to the wrong gods, but couldn’t my god accept those too? Weren’t there enough people asking forgiveness for our sins and whatever it was that we had clearly done to invoke his wrath?

My company laid off a 4th of our employees. My job was secure I was promised, but was it? Some weeks later, a blanket pay reduction email went out to the folks still employed. The highest paid would suffer the most. I lost 18% of my pay during that time, and I will assure you, making under $60,000 a year with a family of 5, I was not what I would consider highly paid. Would my job be next? Would I have to make someone else lose their job and put them in a bad situation? My fears intensified, and I prayed, and I smoked.

Church continued to broadcast their sermon online for their congregation to watch. I stopped doing so because I was angry. The world was literally, and metaphorically on fire, and the carefree creator was not acting in any way that seemed helpful. The death count was climbing so high. The stories from my doctor & nurse friends wrenched my heart. Do something. Anything. Crickets.

Two more weeks. Two more weeks and we’ll flatten the curve. We were promised. It came and went, and yet the curve wasn’t flattened. Romans had taught me that authority was God’s order. Now authority couldn’t keep a promise, and the ‘order’ started to look like chaos. For the first time, I began to think I was perhaps losing my religion.

The day I realized I had lost it, I was sitting in my apartment, and my partner was a little stir crazy from being cooped up, and wanted to go visit their family. I will admit I had a very bad freakout. I asked if they weren’t concerned about the risks, about infection, and social distancing. We fought. And I had the worst panic attack yet as they left. Instantly, I regretted it.

I walked out on my back patio, and my jaw was clenched. I let myself scream out my frustrations, and that involved me yelling at god / the sky. I asked what the fuck was wrong with him. Why he was so heartless. Why he was the father of tender kindness, and content with seeing so much suffering. I was certain I was making a mistake, but I was so mad, I did it anyway. “Fuck you.”

I did not drop dead. I was not struck by lightning. What did happen was I began to feel better. I was also exhausted from the fight that never should have been, if god would just have stopped this bullshit.

Because it’s part of his plan! My mind told me.

Is his plan killing people, frightening millions? I am of his believers, why punish me so?

God doesn’t give us a challenge greater than we can bear. My religion teacher’s voice echoed through the years.

What could he possibly teach from this?

It’s not our place to question god. My father’s voice now.

Maybe it’s not yours. But I sure as hell am.

I began to delve back into Witchcraft, loving the feeling of control I believe I had over my world. I was exploring it all anew, having forgotten so much from when I was younger. Deities became a focus of mine, and determining what I wanted to be. But what would start with witchery led me somewhere the child of a former minister isn’t supposed to go..