Blessed is Humanity

Recent revelations of the spirit

All I know is that all I do, and have almost always done, is wrestle: fighting to find whatever it is that’s supposed to be guiding the way— stumbling in the dark hoping that someone, somewhere will someday turn the lights on. I often feel like anytime something seems right to me, it soils into a wrong, whether it’s a fault in me, God’s plan, or a self-fulfilling prophesy, I’m not sure. But I’ve been growing weary of the wrestling lately, although, I’m afraid wrestling is just a symptom of life and that there’s no real solution. Am I sentenced to the dark for the rest of my days? Is no one coming to turn the lights on?

Growing up in organized religion has it’s effects— both positive and negative. On one hand, I’ve had to unlearn a lot of shame that is often hidden under the veil of “repentance,” or “denying one’s self.” On the other hand, I’ve read the red letters of Jesus Christ and feel an enormous amount of respect and peace, knowing that the alleged savior of the world is not here for organized religion, but rather, for those oppressed, marginalized, and wounded by people who claim to know the way. I’m reminded every day that the world is not black and white, but every color under the sun. Trying to unlearn shame is no small feat for a girl who’s felt consumed by it most of her life. Unlearning a God I can’t resonate with, a God who operates from rules, regulations, and expectations, rather than grace and love. Unlearning a God that could banish me to an eternity of suffering— Haven’t His children suffered enough?

In my heart, I believe in a God who is tenderhearted towards the brokenhearted— a God who holds compassion, not condemnation. But believing isn’t knowing, and my brain tells my heart that we need to know, people expect you to answer for your beliefs, or at least act like you know what you’re talking about. So we return to the pew and try to be good little sheep, but all of our shepherds look different.

I wrote these lyrics recently that I am working on putting to music:

And what if they’re right?

What if I quail & quake & bake after I die?

What if your angry God of justice

Is the God I put my trust in,

And he casts me aside?

I scream into the void, “I don’t know!”

But I’m figuring it out as I go

So what am I doing writing a Substack post about religion and God? What if you read this as a non-spiritual person and think I’m shoving my religion down your throat? What if you read this as a devoted Christian and think I’m toeing the line of blasphemy? What if I’m seen as a heretic or a Bible thumper? What if what if what if… Shame’s favorite sentences always start with “What if...” I’ve learned that, for me, the only way to silence shame is unapologetic vulnerability. Recently I had the thought that maybe all that suffering and rejection has hardened itself in me— All those years of tearing down walls, only to find it was just the gates: The real work must come from inside the walls. And we all have walls— ones we’ve built ourselves, ones we’ve inherited, and ones we were conditioned to build.

Here is my problem with religion (well, at least one of my problems with religion); There’s a seemingly desperate need to convince everyone to believe whatever you believe. Some Christians will read this and say, “Well, yeah, that’s the point of salvation,” and that’s a fair argument, if that’s all you’ve ever argued. However, I urge you to think like this: Salvation is merely reconciliation with God— every single human being (whether christian, atheist, new age, etc. etc.) is made in the image of God, meaning every encounter you have with someone can give you a glimpse into a side of God you may otherwise not have known, but only if you’re looking for it. And ideally, that person can see a glimpse of God in you— even if you aren’t outright talking about Jesus (and often times, it’s more effective to show Jesus nonverbally.) This is called tolerance: Looking at the ways we are alike, rather than debating our differences. It’s knowing when to speak and when to listen, and to respond in love. We place our own dividers in this country and in this world, we operate in labels and groupings— neither of which are effective if they are not helpful to all parties. Understanding for one another is vital for the future of humanity.

Now all of this seems very rainbows and unicorns, and I recognize that there is some very real and very fresh wounds you may be (and have for some time been) tending to. Boundaries are necessary to preserve our mental, emotional, and spiritual health— but remember boundaries and walls are different things: Boundaries say, “You may come in, but there are respectful and realistic expectations,” while walls say, “You may not come in at all.”

I hear myself becoming preachy, which is a sign my time to share is up. I don’t claim to know everything, if anything at all. I’m no Biblical scholar or philosopher by any stretch of the imagination: Just a girl figuring it out as she goes. I’ll leave you with the final stanza from the song I’m working on:

And if I am right,

I hope that whatever’s really out there hears my cry

I hope my sister’s standing there when I arrive

Until then, I sing my solemn “I don’t know,”

& figure it out as I go

xx Kimi