How Did I Get From Heathen To Religious?

Image by πŸ‘€ Mabel Amber, who will one day from Pixabay

I was parked at the harbour one day waiting for a call from my local Catholic Bishop. I can’t discuss the details of the conversation with you and will honor the Bishops request to keep discretion on it until I die no matter what Church I go to. But I sat there before hand wondering to myself how on this absolute earth did I ever get to this point where I’m having a conversation with a Bishop over the phone?

I was sitting outside one of the most liberal heathen venues in town when it happened. It’s where I used to drink and do drugs until I couldn’t remember my own name. I remembered the many people I entertained, made laugh and the nights I came home being dragged through the house by my father and into my bed. I was so drunk I’d at least managed to make it to the front porch and then sleep there in the dead of winter at times.

Then who pulls up beside me in his new electric run car? Only the greenest politician in town and owner of the venue. There was no escape as when I turned my head we both looked at one another. He simply raised his eyebrows at me and I returned the same. But when he emerged from the car we never spoke and ignored one another.

Then the phone rings and I have my conversation with the Bishop and that’s that. Afterwards I made plans to visit my local Greek Orthodox Church that Sunday and again standing there I thought, how did it come to this? I had a good time playing music and writing songs and being jolly old Stephen. Now I’m being booted from some diaconate program before it even begins. I’m heavily read in all the mystical theology books and early fathers and have a wall full of icons and all my friends are Christian.

The thought did cross my mind that I should tear it all down (my icon wall and religion altogether) and just start all over again. I’ll get a band together and create some music like the good old days and forget all this ever happened. I’ll ignore my conversion. I’ll ignore the Catholic Church, the protestant churches, the Orthodox churches. I’ll ignore it all, let go of the plough and go back and prove to everyone especially God I’m not fit for his kingdom which I’m not.

I got angry. “Look at them” refering to the Catholic priests, “I use to make fun of that effeminate lot in school and would NEVER have entertained the thought of becoming one. What am I doing? Why do I allow myself to be wrapped up in all this Christian nonsense? These people are of no benefit to me at all. They do NOTHING for me. They’ve NEVER helped me in any way and anytime they approach me it ends in conflict.”

But then God reminds me of how he called me. That also I try to shut out and explain away as nothing more than a delusion. “It’s all a lie, the whole lot of it. It’s all a load of nonsense probably brought on by the fact I had some mental breakdown or something having my daughter taken from me and never seeing her again. I’m going to the doctors and I’m gonna prove it’s all in my head and I’m mentally unwell or something.”

See? And you reading this blog think I’m holy? I bet you do. HA! Well, I love proving people wrong and here I am again taking pleasure in doing that once again. I shouldn’t be here. I should be down getting drunk with my mates listening to some good tunes and playing them on my guitar to an audience. I should be at the after party in the house of a person I never met before at 4am dancing on their furniture and having a good time. I know where God wants me to be but that’s not where I WANT to be. This whole religion thing just isn’t my bag at all and yet here I am.

I’m not joking you when I say this but there are times when I feel absolutely stuck. I feel like the wife of a husband she wished she’d never married. . . stuck. That’s it. . . you’re in it now until the end so ya might as well lay upon the bed God laid out for you. It’s like the Matrix movie. . . why oh why didn’t I take the BLUE pill, right? Yeah. I didn’t though.

I took the red pill and now I’ve to suffer the undeniable fact that the other world is a real one and no matter how good this one tastes, the sex, the drugs, the pleasures of it all none of it is long lasting or real. It doesn’t matter where I go. I’m stuck with that bit of truth and what I have as a permanent reminder I’m tied to until my body ceases to be and rots away in the ground.

I’m ranting. What are blogs for, nice stories? You’ll not find that here. . . at least not all of the time. Please pray for me as the Devil constantly likes to remind me of how good I used to have it. It gets especially strong whenever I enter into conflict with other Christians or clergy. Sometimes I wish I could go back and tell God to leave me alone and pick on someone else who’ll at least enjoy the rollercoaster that is Christianity.

God bless

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