How Did I Get Here?

WHAT HAPPENED?

When I have discussions with religious individuals who knew me when I was “sold out”, I get responses such as, “I know that deep down you still believe in Him but you are angry.  He’ll be waiting for you”.  This “anger problem” is a common motif.  If I reply that I am happy, the response is sometimes in the vein of this:  “I’m sure given you are living in the ways of man.”  Isn’t it ironic?  I can’t be angry and I can’t be happy.  The most recent individual I held a discussion with asked me, “What happened?”  While it’s difficult to see life through the rear-view mirror (given that our memory is far more shoddy than we would like to contend), I will do what I can to analyze the existential vicissitudes within the deep corners of my mind.  But, to enter this rabbit hole, I must examine the problem of anger and happiness which I propose are governed by wants and fears. These hang in the balance with Peace at the fulcrum.

It is in the book of Ezekiel where we get the underlying message that worldly peace is false peace:  “They have misled my people, saying, ‘Peace,’ when there is no peace, and because, when the people build a wall, these prophets smear it with whitewash” (Ezekiel 13:10).  I am not going to explore the proper interpretation in the proper context, here.  All I want to point out is that most Christians believe the books of the prophets to be inspired by the “word of God” (Thomas Paine, in The Age of Reason, presents  a good case as to how they are merely poets) and they interpret this verse to separate Real Heavenly Peace from false worldly peace.  I presume that one of the greatest reasons they find the prophets to be “inspired by the Word”  is that it is necessary to continue believing them to be as such for eschatology’s sake.

Contemplate that word - eschatology.  The literal meaning of this word is “the study of the end”.  Who can study a thing that hasn’t yet occurred?  Well, of course, many Christians who find reason to be anathema to faith (Colossians 2:8-10*) and who have only the “Word of God” to rely on - they believe they can.  Their eschatology always keeps them yearning for “the sign of the times”.  Which is ironic if we read the book of Jonah about a man who was waiting for the imminent destruction of Nineveh.  Christians love telling that story to induce obedience to God.  Yet, there is a more subtle teaching therein to not be so anxious for the destruction of a people.  In the end, however, Yahweh does not destroy Nineveh because the inhabitants therein changed their “wicked” ways.  Of course, many Christians are hopeful for those who would change their ways (that is “Trust and obey”); however, those who believe eschatology are still expecting the destruction of the world regardless - and all those perceived actors for Satan (or those ostensibly deceived by him) along with it.  It’s hard to know whether they are really all that concerned with people’s salvation or if many carry a bit of schadenfreude over having their ticket into paradise while others suffer in the eternal flames of damnation.

In order to believe in eschatology, one needs to believe that we are living on a grand timeline with a definite beginning and a definite end.  We need not explore too in depth into this for proof since one of the proclaimed boons of “salvation” (in the Baptist doctrine I was raised amidst) is to have one’s name written in the Book of Life.  

I had anxiety about whether or not I was living my “purpose”.  I would allegorically see Life in the lens of pages and chapters.  While that is quite poetic, I could never be sure if I was where I was meant to be.  And, that Peace thing?  Since I believed that Peace was “out there”, I was ( à la King Solomon) “chasing the wind” to obtain it.  In the Bible, it is written here and there, “seek and ye shall find”.  I was seeking; never finding.  Until I started to let go.

In all my seeking, I went through a stage of trying out different sects - 7th day Adventists and Church of God.  They both found major “Christian” holidays here in USA (Christmas, Easter) to be of pagan origin, and rightly so (only they rendered a diabolical plot therefrom).  They also found it pagan to worship on SUN-day whilst Saturday is Sabbath, and to them the proper day to worship.  I haven’t the space to go into how this affected my work habits and my confusion over how a “loving” God would be so wrapped up in a specific day - especially if time on earth is incomparable to eternity in Heaven.  All I mean to do here is elucidate how much I tried to tease apart paganism from Christianity.  I got to the point where I realized that I was only trying to explain these things away via confabulation because the more I looked into paganism, the more it became undeniable how similar the motifs really are.

Rather than seeing Jesus’ “Death and Resurrection” as an actual event, through the likes of Joseph Campbell and contemplating baptism, I was able to see the myth for what it was meant to be.  We find myths of deities, tales, or people inspired by deities going down into into something before coming out “changed” - Osiris, Alice in Wonderland, Persephone, Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego, Jesus etc.  The symbol of baptism which is a major tenet of the doctrine I was immersed in was the key component to start the process of getting out.

In the Baptist culture I was indoctrinated in, a child needs to be old enough to make a proclamation of faith.  He must make a choice before being baptized.  The debate about when the proper age to make such a decision typically rests around the age of 8 - which ironically is seen to be the age of reason (when a child can better suppress their impulses).  In this doctrine, there is always a pastor or biblical “scholar” somewhere having to ease the anxieties about what might hypothetically happen if a child dies before the “proper age” - where will they go? Lucky for me, I guess, I made my decision at age 5.  

There are plenty of arguments over whether or not Baptism is actually important for salvation or merely just a symbol.  At least, in my network, there was enough of a consensus that Baptism was merely a symbol.  The gray areas occur in church membership.  In most Baptist churches I attended, you had to be baptized to be a member.  And, if you decided to move elsewhere, you would probably want in your possession a Certificate of Baptism or an authorized letter from your previous church that affirms you have already been baptized.  So, technically, baptism is nothing more than an initiation into “the group.”  But, at least nobody gets hazed (unless the pastor thinks you might need a little longer to be “fully cleansed”, I suppose).

Here is the typical run-through of a baptism as I have witnessed:  1)  The pastor calls upon your family and friends (probably best they are members or played a role in “leading you to salvation”) to stand up and be recognized.  2)  The pastor asks the whole congregation if they accept you into the brotherhood.  3)  The pastor asks you, “Have you confessed your sins and do you accept Jesus into your heart to be the Lord of your life?”  (The standard answer is, “Yes.”)   4)  The pastor continues, “Then by the power invested in me (why need he power if it is but a symbol?), I now baptize you (the dunking begins - in tap water nonetheless) in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.  Buried into baptism.  Raised to walk in the newness of life (at this point you should be above water).”  5)  The congregation applauds, friends and family sit down, and it’s on to the next one.

Think of that - buried into baptism.  It isn’t so complex.  In the Christian faith, this is mimicking the death and resurrection of Jesus.  What is it about death?  I’ve heard and read many Buddhist adherents who will say, “Contemplate your death.”  This I had to do, to widen the crack on the wall.  While ancient pharaohs are claimed to need to enter death to reach the afterlife and weigh their hearts against a feather in the hopes of reaching paradise, luckily, one need not physically die.  Life in the ancient world - as now - was filled with war.  In order to fight valiantly, anybody afraid to risk their life was - and is - a liability to the whole.  Thus, one had to come to terms with the fact that one day they would die.  And, so it is with asceticism, stoicism, and the letting go of the illusion of selfness.

Societies such as Freemasonry (consider the “murder” of Hiram Abiff) hold rites with many degrees with the aim of perfecting the Self - Freemasons use masonry paradigms to illustrate this (chiseling the perfect cubic stone).  Death is always a tenet for exploring the perfection of - and paradoxically letting go of - Self.  No matter what society.  No matter what religion.  It seems to be much easier to use allegory than to give an elaborate speech over the matter - depending, of course, on whose ears all of this falls upon.  So, taking any sense of an afterlife out of the equation, we must ask ourselves, what is there in death?

In death, there is nothing to want.  In death, there is nothing to fear.  Ultimately?  In death, there is Nothing.  How many are uncomfortable with this Nothing?  Just take a moment and think about not existing - no conscience, Nothing.  Having experienced being, it is no small task to fathom not being.  If I can accept this Nothingness of which I am going to be, how much more can I accept this something which I am now?  Death is inevitable.  We are all subject to decay.  So, then, it seems to me that any Christianity that holds the dichotomy of Heaven and Hell in front of adherents’ eyes is holding the carrots of want and fear.  Tell me, then, which is more peaceful?  Being comfortable with this Nothingness to the point of shattering want and fear or following anxiously to a religion that thrives symbiotically off of both?  If all life has something to teach us, then can death not do the same?  

For myself, “tasting death” meant letting go of a god.  At first, it was something I was going to try out - given that the denomination I was raised in preached “once saved always saved”.  I used the imagery of Theseus, the Labyrinth, and Ariadne’s thread to descend into the murkiness of taboos.  If ever I got lost, I figured I could just return.  But the farther I descended, the more I discovered and the less was I afraid of that where I was headed.  When you live your whole life thinking you hold the “truth”, with your head always in the sky (since I am an introvert, this was certainly the easiest form of escapism), you see others through a lens you are oblivious to wearing.  Going downward, I started to see people and things as they were rather than through an indoctrinated paradigm - I started to get a taste of reality.  After much wrestling within my being, I came to a point where it was time to snip the thread and enjoy reality as it is.

Back in 2020, during the social distancing time period, we watched Elevation Worship on a regular basis.  Steven Furtick made a statement that inadvertently really helped me finish the job of letting go.  In reading a passage about Jesus, he made a passing statement - something to the effect of, “Many people put themselves in Jesus’ point of view.  Don’t do that!  You are not Jesus!”  That was the final key to the problem.  If more people actually did put themselves within the vantage point of Jesus, maybe they could possibly see that the stories were always meant to be a reflection of themselves.  If you don’t take the stories as fact but take them as a method of self-discovery, they start to make better sense.

And, so what?  I used the stories as myths.  How did letting go of Christianity end up with me letting go of any form of divinity?  At least a “Supreme Being”?  It comes down to introspection - searching for self.  The more I discovered Self, the less reliant I was on a divine entity for “answers”.  When I let go of the “god of the gaps”, I could better explore things seemingly inexplicable through a lens of objective reality rather than subjective faith.  But, most of all, by letting go of God, fear and want fell to the wayside.

And, this concept of Self?  Well, I think that needs to be discussed in a separate post.  Nevertheless, I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that the contemplation of death is no simple task.  Letting go of the past self can feel an awful lot like falling apart (fragmenting is what I called it) to the point where one desires death.  Not long ago, amidst my ruminating over wants and fears, I happened upon this very important realization:  while there are wants of life and fears of death, there are also fears of life and wants of death.  In the separating of all wants and fears in all their shades from my existential construct, I can all the better take an objective view of them.  I can examine them; I can analyze - Self.

*Colossians 2:8-10

8 See to it that no one takes you captive by philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the world, and not according to Christ. 9 For in him the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily, 10 and you have been filled in him, who is the head of all rule and authority.