Confused Christian

February 6th, 2012  |  by Veralyn Williams |  Published in Blog, Personal Essays

Like a lot of children who come from Christian families, growing up I spent every Sunday morning in church. My grandmother belonged to a Baptist church and therefore– so did my sister and I. Week after week we sat in the same pew, me and my sister separated by my grandmother, in an effort to prevent us from acting up. And I remember longing for the minute they’d call all the kids up to the altar, so we can line up- before heading downstairs for Sunday school.

It wasn’t until I was about 14 years old that I really enjoyed going to church. And I felt that– “the preacher is talking to me” –tingle. And one day as the Pastor was preaching- I heard him say what, at that point, I’d heard him say a thousand times: “If you feel God in your heart and you need a church home today. Please come forward”… And on this day tears started rolling down my face. I rose to my feet, scoot past my grandmother, and somehow I was at the altar. That was the moment for me when I accepted Jesus as my Lord and savior.

Two years later I was confirmed in a Methodist church, and since then I have taken Holy Communion for the forgiveness of my sins- more times than I can count. But as I’ve gotten older (I’m 26 now), there are two things I now question:

One is going to church every Sunday. Lately it feels like going to church for me, is slipping back to the old routine of my childhood…

Continue reading on So Divine Magazine why I’m confused about what being a christian means today.

One person that echos a lot of my concerns is Jefferson Bethke, 22, who wrote a poem called: “Why I Hate Religion, But Love Jesus

Jefferson on Church: “It’s not a museum for good people- It’s a hospital for the broken / Which means I don’t have to hide my failure. I don’t have to hide my sin. / Because it doesn’t depend on me. It depends on HIM.”

Thoughts?

Video Feature

Archives

Tweets by @VeralynMedia

SaloneTiti.com (Tumblr)

  • Conversations by the pool

    Met two women from Toronto by the pool. After we exchanged pleasantries for a bit, they asked about #Ferguson— they’ve been watching news about it all week, they said. I told them about #EricGarner (they hadn’t heard about him). They informed me someone else was killed by police in St Louie last night (need to fact check that). We bonded in our frustration and helplessness as the Costa Rican sun hit our face. They said they hoped this moment was our generations civil rights movement. I agreed, then got up to get a drink.

  • photo from Tumblr

    In this beautiful place wondering why it took me so long to come here. As with most things the answer is fear. Being that’s it’s Central America, more specifically the fear of being kidnapped or raped. A fear I can’t help but wonder if my fellow nomad-male-friends think about. Hate that I take comfort in the fact, most rapes are committed by someone you know. Ok. Going to stop thinking about this while on vacation.


  • photo from Tumblr

    How can you be in solidarity with Furguson? Support organizers on the ground: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1sOX4RNO5CPQp4zMUvosoWPNu_fuencZNI1nmCcRuUag/mobilebasic?pli=1&viewopt=127



Instagram: Ms. Veralyn

Podcast