Why Christianity?

Jesus and the article I read today while taking a load.

On my 19^th birthday I found myself back in my parents’ house during the holidays. I was locked up in my bedroom, sat in a corner feeling more helpless than I ever have all my life. Till this day I have never been as desperate as I was back then, clutching on to the little faith I had in God, begging him to end everything for me; the pain, the suffering, the incessant torturous agony inflicted upon my post pubescent spirit. I went from pleading to regretfully cursing him out to finally declaring a comical ultimatum. No one responded to my tantrums, I picked myself up, I turned 19 and a spiteful atheist. I didn’t even know what the fuck an atheist does, I just wanted to be in the opposition.

My denunciation of God, Christianity, Faith(?) was an act of anger. It was one of those things you do to punish someone who hurt you, someone who you know will be hurt enough to try and win back your confidence. On the contrary, I was rewarded by a sense of enlightment. I remember when my anger wore of and the recollections of the rage I spewed into the void ushered me to try and understand where the entire fit had come from. I was keener into trying to understand how I could be so daring. Perhaps it was the state I was in, helplessness, anger, despair, that gave me the confidence to say such things. I later realized that all these things which I had conjured into fully fledged thoughts were actual things, feelings, that had been buried inside me for a long time and I was afraid of giving them any form of life.

My first conclusion was that I was scared of God and that was the only thing that I have ever felt for him/her/it (?) I was terrified of this being that I have never met, never talked to and more importantly, never felt. I mean this could have been the shortcoming of my guardians or whoever it was that was bestowed of the responsibility to evangelize my little juvenile spirit. I learnt about God through my mother before I learnt about him in Sunday school or School. Funny enough, I remember being more intrigued by the characters in the Bible than In God himself. I remember every time he came up in the story he would usually be showing up to punish or warn. It genuinely used to leave me so unsettled. And then came the stories of hell fire. When people try to describe how bad hell is, they get really…creative.

In Sunday school I heard that if you end up in hell, you will be in an incessant state of burning and never ashing away. You just burn for eternity. I used to dip my toes in hot water and at some point, in my childhood, I realized that if you allowed your body to get used to the heat, it becomes a little tolerable. I guess this is when I started fearing hell a little less. However, when I went to high school I got to see Sulphur in the works one afternoon in the Chemistry lab and I kept thinking about its corrosiveness. I would later imagine a drop of Sulphur accidentally dropping on the chemistry teacher’s latex covered hand, penetrating his bones and leaving a dainty hole. Intriguing as it was, you can imagine how shocked I was when It was brought to my attention that hell fire is worse than Sulphur. These new developments were crazy; where were they getting this information? Do I want to be corroded by Sulphur? Was it worth it?

After I turned 19 I felt I owed it to myself to try and understand my rage; to explore my relationship with God before I denunciated it altogether. I think this was such a confusing period for my friends, even more than It was for me because most of my friends at the time were Christians. I was asking questions and of course censoring them as much as I possibly could, some got offended, some fell off with me, some respected my journey and others even asked questions along with me. One of the things I remember picking up was God’s unconditional love for us and I suppose integrating this with the real fear that I had for him made it a little complex for me to believe in this supposed unconditional love. I mean if its unconditional why do I need to fulfil certain things or I will be grilled in an eternal, Sulphuric flame? This then made me question my love for him. Did I only worship/love/believe him because I was scared of where my soul would go after life? Was I scared that he wouldn’t answer my prayers? Was I afraid that I might not succeed in life if I didn’t? That my family would fall into misfortune and illness? What inspired my faith if there was any at all?

I suppose one would argue that a relationship outside fear is possible. One could dismiss the laws and their consequences and choose to reimagine a more intimate, less structured relationship. Perhaps through prayer. I was an avid prayer; on my knees, sitting, standing and at times lying down in fetal positions, drenched in tears sending my woes to the void and hoping it answers. I rarely ever got my prayers answered and at times I started to feel like my prayers were a transmuted transactional language that through pattern, I had developed with God. I only called on him and I mean honestly called on him when I had problems. The premise of the prayers which were embellished with pretentious praise disgusted me with every time I shut my eyes for it. I felt like I was lying to myself. I mean who was I kidding?

Maybe that’s why he never responded?

The entire concept of prayers is a little complicated. I do acknowledge that there are actual people who pray and have these prayers answered. I think prayers do come true but its mostly intention that drives them to actually manifest into what we want in our lives. I shouldn’t have compared mine not getting answered with other people having theirs answered maybe I was sending them to the wrong place. I pray these days, much differently though. Its less structured; I don’t have to get on my knees I could just intentionally claim something in the backseat of a car, while taking a walk, listening to a song etc and I will have it manifest itself in my life. I really am trying to build a new religion for myself with myself and it’s a little difficult, sometimes not-so but it works in all the chaos of it

Part of me felt like a procrastinator, a traitor and a coward. Sometimes it still feels like I am betraying something bigger than myself but I am always self-aware of these feelings to be a form of impulse that comes with being human. I grew up Christian; I prayed before I went to bed every night even the ones, I was frail and on the verge of illness. Before I had a bite of my dinner, I would shut my eyes for a minute to thank God for everything and the meal. I liked the pattern, sometimes it made me feel purposeful, like I was on a greater path destined for greater things, in touch with a thing so ancient and important. Betraying this pattern left a hole inside me and I suppose I am still trying to fill it but don’t get me wrong, I have been filling it up.

I don’t want to get into the politics of it all, you know the actual heart of it? I don’t know if I am ready for that yet. I am trying to be respectful while also articulating my thoughts. I just want to say that other than fear, I have many other reasons that rest inside the Bible and especially the literature of it. I have so many contradictions to it but the one that I find essential to point out is that the teachings followed by most African Christians in this life do not mirror their spirituality and that’s the whole point of Religion. Most of us are sheep; receptive and rigid in the face of the movement (You know? The recall to our old ways? fuuuucking going back to the roots? AS IN WHO WE TRULY ARE??). Before Christianity, African spirituality flourished and enlightened the Africans on so many levels. (politics, culture, medicine etc.) I just think we owe it to ourselves to ask questions.

Note

I just want to say that this was so random. I read someone’s piece this morning about Christianity; they were asking the right questions, being proud of being curious, recalling Africans to go back to their roots and last week I got to hang out with my friend. Oh my God we were so lit and It was in the morning; cracking up in my bedroom and being random goofballs when she told me she has been asking questions and I mean I didn’t make a big deal out of it but I was proud.

Also, I cant believe I am saying this but don’t evangelize me I actually do not consent lol instead kiss my forehead just through your screen, I promise I’ll feel it

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