Communion

I've been thinking about Christianity a lot since being home. I think -- pretty sure -- my brothers are evangelical Christians now. They go to non-denominational churches. I don't know if you'd classify my parents that way. They still go to First Pres, but that particular church left the mainstream UPC because it ordains gay ministers. (And only gay ministers! mu-ah-AH!) 

My mom's worried about me in regards to Christianity. She has been for years. I think she'd be happy with whatever I did with my life as long as I had a relationship with Jesus. It's tough because I don't want her to worry. I want her to feel proud and comfortable and good about herself and her parenting. She's a world-class mom. But I can't pretend to be a Christian if I'm not. I can't pretend that I talk to and have feelings for Spirit Guy. 

I wonder if belief really isn't that important. The way I understood John talk about it (a friend from college who became a Lutheran pastor), Jesus saves us. It's in his hands. It's up to him. Belief is a gift. (Is it a gift? Honestly, when people talk about waiting for God to tell them what to do in their life, they sound nuts. Like God speaking directly to them? What? It's nonsense. Both because God is not real, and if he were real that would be a very silly way for him to conduct his business.) 

I don't know how to reconcile my lack of Christianity to the central role it plays in my family's life. I don't mind them being Christians at all. I think the church community greatly enriches their lives, and without it they might be hard pressed for friends and support. But I'm worried that my non-Christianity will be the only thing they see in me, the only thing they talk about with me, the thing they fixate on. I mean, fair enough if they think I'm ruining my life and ultimately going to hell. I get it, but it's annoying. And not an enriching dynamic. I want better than that for us. I'm not sure how it will shake out. 

At church last Sunday, the pastor was saying lots of stuff I don't believe in. I was participating in a community and culture that wasn't mine. I like the collective singing even if a lot of the songs are corny. I like to hear somebody talk about something they care about. But it wasn't a space for me. And it wasn't a space where, if I stayed for long, I could flourish. 

Then the pastor called people up for communion. "If you believe, you can partake in this table," he said. If you believe. I don't believe, and I'm trying to be more open about who I am, so I could have forgone the communion. But a very strong feeling kicked into gear -- No, communion is God's gift to everyone. I felt very sure about that. I had a birthright to that communion. God's grace belongs to me. 

I don't believe in God, but I'm secure in his promises. 

"I don't believe in Jesus, Mom, and He's fine with it."