Tag Archives: god

May 14, 2012

Coyotes

By welcometoflavorcountry

I asked you if you had had a previous entanglement with Jesus and you said yes, but it was many years ago. Some 31 years, in fact. Where was it? I asked. You said it was outside of town, out in the desert, away from folks in their fancy homes and Cadillacs and BMWs. It wasn’t too far from where we were standing now.

What was it like? Did you feel his hand coming down upon you? I quivered, hoping that he had felt the same passion I had once hoped for.

No, he said, with a bleak look upon his face. It was subtle and quiet. Just a whisper. I thought it would last forever but it went as quiet and easy as it came.

And then what? I asked. What happened next?

I ran. He said. I ran for the next 31 years.

But why 31? Why not 29 or 18 or 33? Why 31? What was so special about that number?

I don’t know, Nick. It just happened that way. God’s gonna do what God’s gonna do and who am I to try and change Him? I just do my best now to live the life that I know He would want me to live.

But what is that life? How do you live it? I was growing more desperate in my search for the truth. Any insights would be greatly appreciated, I said. I had quit going to church some years before but still felt God pulling the strings to my heart. I didn’t even know they existed: my heartstrings AND my heart. They had all been so darkened up until now. Ruined, I even thought.

I glanced out on the horizon. I saw, in the field, a coyote with something hanging from its mouth. At first I thought it was a dead rabbit but then knew it was something else, as the package yet had life in it. It was a pup. One of the coyote’s children, I imagined, and the mother was taking the child back to the den for safekeeping. Often times they’ll run away and it’s the mother’s job to keep an eye on her brood.

With this child, my legacy shall be secure, I imagined the mother coyote said to herself.

I said, I wonder what she is thinking. Does she understand her legacy? I said this last sentence out loud to my friend, the farmer. He looked me in the eye and sighed.

Ain’t a lot of good for these coyotes to be out here. They’re just going to get shot one of these days.

By who? I asked. I feared for the mother’s safety. I wanted to be a mother one day. Or a father. Couldn’t I be both?

By me, the farmer said. Or by some other guy who sees the coyote tresspassin’. They’ll eat up your smaller livestock if they get the chance. Pigs, chickens – might even take down your dog. Or heck, the dog may go and join them! He said with a chuckle. Ain’t too many dogs out there that can avoid their true nature.

What about God, though? I asked.

What about him? the farmer replied.

Where does he fit into your life now? I said with a genuine sense of curiosity.

He fits quite nicely, if I do say so myself. Although the final judge of that will have to be God Himself, I suppose. He looked at me with a plain but bright look. Things were just what they were in his world.

I suppose that’s true, I said.

Nick you have to understand, he said, focused. He looked me right in the eye. God’s gonna do what God’s gonna do. You can’t change that. He is who He’s always been and that ain’t ever going to change. No matter how much we may want it to, it just ain’t gonna happen.

You think so? I asked

I know so, he replied. I seen it in my life. As much as this world goes from bad to worse, it seems as though God is the same He’s ever been. Yesterday, today and forever. For-ever. He said this last word in two distinct syllables, wanting to emphasize the elongated time period that forever really was.

Well, for your sake I hope you’re right. I told him. If that’s what helps then that’s what is best for you, I suppose.

Oh, I KNOW it is best for me. It might be good for you, too, Nick. You never know. But I suspect it is.

Perhaps I said, stroking my chin and then wiping the sweat off my forehead with the back of my right hand. It was hot down here in Texas this summer. Even more than normal.

Kind of gives you an idea of what hell may be like on days like today, huh? He said, laughing his deep, full laugh. From the stomach. It was a jovial comment, not with any threatening notion intended.

So, you believe in hell? I asked. I suddenly felt combative. I didn’t want this conversation to become a fundamentalist rant on his part, but I felt compelled to see where he really stood.

Aww, Nick. I dunno. I believe in God. That’s all I really know. And that’s good enough for me. I ran from Him for too long. It feels good to be back in His fold – to know that I’m loved and accepted as His. That’s what’s most important to me. I figure all the other stuff will sort itself out. Ain’t up to me to decide who goes where after we’re put in the ground. I’ll leave that to God.

Yeah, I said, impressed at his humbleness. That’s probably best.

Nick, he said, placing his hand on my shoulder, you worry too much. Just live your life and take some time to listen to what God has to say to you. And enjoy what you have – your family and friends, your work, and your play – while you have it.

The dusk was starting to settle in. Hues of pink and purple beyond the ridge of the mountains. The moon – almost full – stood in the sky. And in the distance the howl of the coyotes.

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March 19, 2012

Life After God

By welcometoflavorcountry

Spirituality is harsh, but life after God is fierce and lonely. I will not romanticize life with God, however. Life with God is fiery and built upon fears and self-righteousness. My life is built upon ferocity of a different kind. The type that enlightens and objectifies something else: my existence.

Life after God is heart breaking. It is full of attempts to fill that God-shaped hole in your figurative heart with relationships, art, people, literature, film, sex, and the like. It seeks to find community, alternate spirituality, and endurance to run the race. There are no answers in a life after God. Stumbling? Yes. Exhilaration? Occasionally. Happiness? No.

Life after God is prolific. There is a need to write about nothing else but life after God. In all its ways, shapes and forms, the literature increases. But writing existed with God. The answers then were God, God, and God. It sufficed and made sense.

I never gave any thought to life after God. It happened gradually. It emerged with an appreciation for, but in no way influenced by, Slayer. On the other hand, it was also influenced by intellect and an unquenchable drive for answers and a way to disprove all that I knew. One day, on the walk home from the bus stop after work, it clicked. There was no Truth because truth is subjective. I had thought it over and I had lost. But a part of me knew I had won.

For the first few months, life after God was invigorating. There was so little guilt. I felt free to do what I wanted, so I did nothing at all. I had no reason to do anything different. There was no freedom that changed who I was. I still wanted to do good, to be gentle, to find some truth after God. I kept reading, kept watching films, went to work, talked with my friends, listened to Slayer, and got frustrated with life. I was no different than I had been before.

Life after God offered no explanations – it erased them. All truth was now my own to create. Suddenly, I knew very few things. I wanted to treat others well. I didn’t want to change my moral foundation. I just wanted to stop being sure of a heaven and a hell. I wanted to stop feeling like I had to apologize for the actions of other Christians. I wanted to not be sure of anything. I am still sure of very little. I cannot commit to causes. I’m okay with that. It is the only honest way to live.

Life after God is introspective, even more so than before. I search out answers and find more questions. Often times they are the same ones I have been asking for years: What am I doing here? Who will I become? Is this all there is?

People have yet to criticize me for living a life after God. Most of the people I knew who had a life with God no longer do. And the ones I do know who have a life with God seem to avoid the subject of divinity with me. They do not ask me what I believe and I can’t decide if it’s because they already know or because they’ve figured it out without me having to say a word. Or perhaps they are closer to a life after God than I realized. Perhaps they know if they asked me, they would realize that I was right. There are no answers. Existence is strange. I wish they would go from belief to un-belief and help me to figure things out.

Life after God is honest. It says, “I have no answers.” It claims no superiority except the ability to question indefinitely. It doesn’t have to deal with contradictions or intellectual gymnastics. The only honesty is in truth and the truth is that we don’t know anything. It may be hard to accept that, but it makes me happy in however small of a way to know I’ve found truth. I’d rather be lost than lying to myself about something I don’t believe. Fully accepting a belief system requires a disconnect I don’t know that I am capable of.

Life after God lacks community. I went to church events constantly when I was involved with God. I was president of my youth group at church. I went to church Wednesday night, Sunday morning and Sunday night. I went to youth group parties, retreats, church conferences, Christian music festivals and Bible studies. I sang praise songs to God. I raised my hands to worship Him. I spoke in tongues once or twice. I danced in praise of God. I primarily spent time with other Christians, enjoying their presence. There were debates over Biblical passages; the political implications were clear. It was Yahweh or the highway.

There is no more freedom from depression and anxiety in a life after God. It existed before and I tried my best to keep it in check, but to little avail. In the midst of singing praises to God, I exuded misery. I relied on my emotions to help tell me what God thought of me. If I was a loved child of God, then why the depression? Why the down, down, down? What did God want from me? I read and studied the Bible (read it through five times in five years), took advice from those more knowledgeable in spiritual matters and did my best to keep my head high. We didn’t know anything about depression or mental illness. That wasn’t covered in the Bible except to say that God could heal me of my mental illness and anxiety. He didn’t and I haven’t found an answer in my life after God except to know that I can only rely on medicine and therapy rather than someone to answer prayers. Even with a combination of both, I figure why bother? I’ll go with what has proven itself to me: science and medicine. It can often be dubious but it’s something that has shown some promise. God doesn’t keep his promises.

Life after God requires me to start from myself. All I know is me. I am a human being, first and foremost. I extend from there. I extend very little because there is not much else I can know. I feel comfortable in my room. I know that much. I want to help others receive information and learn. Learning brings about freedom, even if it’s not the freedom one would hope for.

In a life after God, I’m reminded that this life is the only life I will get. I try and make the best of it but most of the time I’m content with letting this life go.

 

Other thoughts: sometimes I wonder if it is too late to feel the same things that other people seem to be feeling. Sometimes I want to go up to people and say to them, “What is it you are feeling that I am not?

Please – that’s all I want to know.”

Perhaps you think I simply need to fall in love and that maybe I’ve just never met the right person. Or perhaps I’ve just never figured out exactly what it was I wanted to do with life while the clock ticked away.

Whatever.

Like most people, I’ve bottomed out a few times; in motel rooms, say – alongside naked bodies close by in cities I can’t recall – looking at phones with nobody to dial. And I’ve been hooked on a few things, too, and lost months and years there, but I think I came out of it with my brain cells intact. And how much would this matter, anyway? –Douglas Copeland, Life After God

8 comments   |  tags: , , , | posted in Non-fiction

March 12, 2012

Dear Sir

By welcometoflavorcountry

Earlier this year a man, whom I’ve never met, from my aunt and uncle’s church in the Midwest, sent me a letter informing me that people at their church were praying for me and that Jesus loved me, etc. I never wrote him back, but if I did it would have gone like this.

Dear Sir:

Thank you for your letter. It was very kind of you to think of me and take the time to write. I’m glad that you have had the opportunity to know my aunt and uncle and attend church with them these past few years. They are very kind, caring people with good senses of humor. Although I don’t get to see them very often, I do enjoy when we have the opportunity to spend time together.

However, I must admit that I was unaware that people at your church were praying for me and am not sure why. Perhaps you could share with me what has been said? While I do admit I have faults and while I appreciate you admitting you have them as well, I’m not sure that any of them are things with which you should be too concerned. I feel as though I am doing fairly well in my life, all things considered.

If this is about the depression I have experienced this past year, then I can assure you that hurdle has generally been cleared. I don’t feel as though depression is something from which I will ever be fully freed. And that’s okay, I suppose. I’ve gotten as used to it as I can. But otherwise, while I still deal with the existential problems, I generally feel much better than I did.

However, if this is about me leaving the church, I’m afraid that I can’t do much to help you. Throughout my years, I have read a great number of things that have caused me to question Christianity. Eventually I had no point but to leave the faith in which I was raised, the faith that you and my aunt and uncle share.

I could go in depth about why I no longer care to be a Christian, but I doubt anything that a stranger would write to you would cause you to change your mind or help you understand why I left my faith. The gist of it, however, is that I can no longer intellectually find solace in Christianity, and without some proof to back things up, I have a hard time placing my allegiance with it. Faith is ultimately – and rightly so – an absurd notion, and I have a problem placing my faith in anything too absurd. Too much of my life has been spent on fragile emotions that waver and I need some solid footing that I can rely upon. Faith in Christ is too tempestuous for the level of comfort I need in my life.

Whatever the case may be, I do appreciate the kind thoughts and that you cared enough to write and let me know people are thinking of me. It’s always nice to know that I matter to someone, somewhere. However, I do think your time may be better off spent meditating on your own lives and how to improve them. Perhaps you could use the time you normally spend in prayer to instead help better others or yourself: volunteer at an animal shelter, become a big brother, paint a picture, or read a book.

Beyond the uses that prayer can provide as a form of relaxation and meditation for the self, as well as assisting an individual to focus on others and learning to be thankful for what one has, I have always had trouble understanding the point of intercessory prayer. My beliefs are such that I firmly believe that anything you pray about in regards to my life will only come about when or if I decide it should.

Still, I do appreciate you taking the time to write and appreciate that there are those who are thinking of me. If nothing else, THAT is comforting.

Sincerely,

Andy Lehman

2 comments   |  tags: , , , , | posted in Non-fiction

November 9, 2011

One Truth

By welcometoflavorcountry

In the darkness there is one truth. One truth I know of and one truth I have seen but one that I cannot find. I don’t know where to go to find it. I just know I want it. There are too many blank spaces and I wish I could go somewhere to hide and protect myself. I wish I could find an answer to the various questions I had. The ones I always have about where to go and who I am. These were not sufficiently answered for me in college. At a Christian college they try and instill in you the values and moral background you will need to make it in a secular world. See what you are made of. I am made of nothing. I rolled and defused the situation as best I could – I held on to many truths in my mind but over the years they dissipated until they ceased to exist.

I took classes on foundations of Christianity according to one university. And I interacted with humanism, various world religions, post-modernism and existentialism. And existentialism won out. There were no other theories that matched my belief structure except to be honest and say that nothing matched by belief structure. It all happened so gradually that in many regards I never noticed when it had solidified itself entirely into my values. The classes, the school taught me the reasons that this won’t work: GOD, God and god. Okay – I can try and live with that. *Fast-forward five years* I cannot live with that.

The point is to help you lead a moral life amongst the degradation that is occurring all around you. Here are your core beliefs. We want you to be prepared to take your faith into the world and offer a defense to the arguments you will be receiving. But what about this and that and the other? What about historical inaccuracies? What about interference with the copying of the text? Or the problem of evil? I’m hearing one side, but when can I hear the other? And the argument – they’re multiplying so fast nowadays. They’re assaulting the faith like never before with their goddamn logic and persuasive tactics.

When does faith acknowledge it can’t be reconciled with intelligence? When can faith admit that it doesn’t hold water to anything? Trying to square one’s beliefs in something that cannot be measured scientifically is what it is: a matter of faith. Something which not all of us have, nor is it something all of us want. Not anymore.

Come back to faith, they would say to me, without answering my questions or even offering viable alternatives. Come back to our community and to live with our collective sense of culture; of the rights and wrongs and approvals and disapprovals.

Giving up faith in God was the hardest thing I have ever done. It left me directionless and alone – cut out of purpose and community the likes of which I never felt I belonged. All the things I had hoped to be a part of were no longer there, nor will they come back. I will likely never go back to being a believer. I cannot check my intellect at the door and jump back into that pond and be baptized in that holy spirit. Despite how people may pray for my soul, I do not know where I would go or how I might go about finding it.

Despite the difficulty in giving up on God, in another sense it was also quite easy. I never felt as though I totally belonged to Christianity. It wasn’t because I questioned – for a great period of time I hardly did much of that. No, my concern was with never feeling a part of their culture. The evangelical culture that existed in the Midwest and all the things it brought along with it. The specifics based on geographic location. I tried to fit in. I tried to accept the role of some things but grew increasingly disillusioned with it all: the culture, the people, and the ideas. The notion that you had to hand in your mind and accept what the pastor said. You had to accept what your parents or peers believed. The underlying insistence in never questioning, never asking “Why?” They didn’t have the answers anyway. They didn’t know any better. They had never asked the questions in the first place – they just wanted to secure their thoughts.

But at least I was honest. At least I am honest. I can imagine there are those who pray for me. Somewhere there are those who pray for me, pray for my soul, and pray that I might accept the loving kindness of Jesus back into my life. He’s waiting there for me, you know? But I am aware of his cultural context. I am aware of the anthropology, of the sociology, of the historicity. I am aware of the translation problems. I have seen the ways in which he isn’t consistent and the predictions that never came true. I have too many questions that have never been sufficiently answered.

I wonder how many other souls I can persuade to question and let go and find a form of damning humanity? Not humanism, not secularism, but a sense of horrible, horrible freedom. A sense of loss the likes of which one may never come close to filling. At least my happiness is genuine. At least my happiness is honest and direct. At least my happiness – the little there is of it – is ready for possibilities. It’s ready to blaspheme or curse or cry out for an escape from the blackness that all too often ensnares it. But it doesn’t seem to find that peace. It doesn’t seem to find a release from the black-gloved hand that ensnares it. My heart doesn’t expand, it doesn’t deflate, but it beats. It’s still beating.

6 comments   |  tags: , , , , | posted in Non-fiction

March 13, 2011

Last to Swim

By welcometoflavorcountry

I grew up in the same neighborhood as Tim Showalter.

Our families went to the same church for a number of years and I was in the same grade as his older brother. After I graduated college we got to know each other fairly well while we both lived in our hometown. We’re still friends although now he lives in Philadelphia and I live in Boston.

Tim is also a musician and under the moniker Strand of Oaks he has put out a remarkable album, Pope Killdragon. Having known Tim for a long time, I thought that connection made for a unique opportunity for my own creativity. I decided to take each of the songs on the album and use them as inspiration to write something. Hopefully you like some of what you read. You can listen to each of the songs off Pope Killdragon here.

8. Last to Swim

There is a great gulf opening in my mind and in it pours everything I thought I could never know. It connects me to God and to all things holy.

My hands are trembling, my teeth are chattering, my knees are knocking and my eyes roll into the back of my head. I am learning everything I could ever want to know about the universe and it is killing me.

When the divine shares its mystery with a human being, there is nothing that can help one to survive. The only thing you can do is just make sure you are near a handrail and hold on the best you can. When the shaking stops and your mind caves back in like an avalanche filling in a gaping yaw, you will be better off.

God will come to you and touch you with an elongated finger. It is placed softly at your third eye, right on the brow. It is a gentle touch. I feel the air sucked out from me in that split second before his spirit touches my skin. My lungs flatten and I can’t breathe. My eyes scramble and all I can see are blurred shapes.

The bony finger touches with the perfect pressure. I lose my sight but suddenly see everything. I have achieved a gnosis and I can’t explain it. I can’t even hope to do so. Radical equations flow through my mind like the opening credits to Star Wars on speed. I can’t begin to solve them because I can’t begin to read them.

I’m worried now but Jesus Christ if God doesn’t remain by my side and offer me an encouragement that radiates from his presence. There is a metaphysical connection between the two of us now. Whereas I used to know in part, now I can know in full that which I was meant to know. I can attack life with a renewed fervor.

But I can’t walk anymore. My feet are blistered and my knees are shot. And I can’t see anymore. I gouged out my eyes when God touched me, his light too blinding for me to ever go back to viewing anything I previously saw. My hearing is non-existent. I put some sharpened sticks through my ears when all the sound never died, even when I tried to sleep. My teeth are cracked and rotten. I can no longer eat. I have rough, calloused hands and skin chapped from the blistering touch that I experienced. My hair is long and stringy, my beard unkempt.

But inside of me I have THE KNOWLEDGE OF GOD. The Knowledge Of God. the knowledge of god…

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