I find it interesting that I am living my life closer to the life Jesus supposedly had than my Christian parents. I’m living an authentic life where as they are so wrapped up in bitterness they probably only read proverbs. They pick and choose what they want to believe, I stick with the tender love.
One might say that being hard on my parents is a sin and I’m gonna go to hell for not honoring them but that person is wrong. If you read scripture the love and adoration Jesus had for people was pure. Jesus got angry and turned tables for fucks sake. Jesus was betrayed and treated like less then a rat. You’re probably saying “she is just an awful person and she talks awful about people from the church and her parents.” You’re god damn right I do, you wanna know why? Because the thing they preach they can’t grasp. They can’t be genuine because they are so clouded by bitterness and rules and regulations that they forget about what matters.
The things that should matter don’t and the things that shouldn’t matter do. It’s backwards and if you want to be a Christian go for it but the moment you start using that book to induce fear is going to be the moment I start calling you out. That’s all I’m doing really, calling people out because of how much lying happened growing up.
I would read the Bible and genuinely believe it because I was told too. In order to go to heaven I had to believe so I did because I’m genuine. I did what I had to do to stay alive and it’s going to be interesting to me till I die just how much my parents lied. Victim blaming and shaming are not Christ like…
I would go to youth group or some Sunday school class and be taught all these great things about Jesus and that we are supposed to live like him, would try my hardest to live like him just to be shot down. Every fucking time I fucked up it was a giant fuck up. I had to swallow the abuse and neglect and bitterness because, “we where a Christian family so non of that happens..” Except it did and it fucking happened all the time.
I was a prisoner not only because I’m transgender and gay as fuck but because I was forced into believing something that makes no fucking sense. Every night we would sit around the living room and would be forced to pray if we didn’t the look of shame would cover my dad and he would act like we were shaming him. There was never any respect because he was zapping it with his bitterness and there was no way in hell I was going to respect him. Not the way he acted.