I realize that religion and spirituality and faith are a part of most people's lives, it's natural to want to believe in something. It makes things easy and at the end of the day a person can look back and say "I've got a pretty shitty life, but at least I've got Jesus!" Immediately after saying this the same person puts the knife down and decides that putting their head in the oven would have been a better choice... thank GOD for electric stoves! The point that I'm trying to make is that, just because I've had some pretty shitty experiences with churches and "religious people," it doesn't force me to say that "ALL" religious people are bad and hypocrites and gossiping idiots... it probably just means that most of them are.
I always had a curiosity with God growing up, it seemed as though every body's family went to church except mine. I was missing out on something! Many times my father would decide that the family needed God in our lives and that he was going to make this happen. One little bit of information you should know about my father is that immediately when he opens his mouth, shit comes out. Him saying he's found Jesus might as well have been him finding a million dollars, the next day all of his money would still be going to Mary Jane. Regardless, I'm sure he had to get everyone interested in Church for one of two reasons. One, it probably looked great when he was getting checked in by his parole officer and two, the church provided an entire afternoon once a week where he didn't have to handle screaming children.
Again, it was one of those periods of months where we were living in a shit-hole. This one was actually pretty embarrassing, even now I have the slightest urge not to open my "fat mouth" as my twin brother Josh would so nicely put it. The place was called Century Lodge and it was an efficiency apartment, back then it was OK to be struggling with living situations because Jewel was popularly cast on the radio and if she could live out of her car, we could live at Century Lodge. Given the extremely disgusting environment, Jewel's car would have actually been a step up. Our apartment complex was so bad that even the Church took pity on us "sinners." Every Sunday a very long red van pulled up right in front of our apartment, all of the kids in our part of hell got on the van to heaven, heaven being around people who at least pretended to care about us. The youth pastor at the local baptist church is the one who picked us up and he would do things like buying our lunch and talking to us about Jesus... blah blah blah. The fun stuff was when we went to the tent revivals, talk about a more fucked up situation than we were in. One would have never thought there were so many Homeless people in Abilene, TX. They were all there for the free food, but also to change something. I've been revived like 12 times, mainly because I didn't know what it was at the time.
There was a guy on a small stage in this tan circus tent asking if people wanted to come up and be saved and every time I went to these revivals I hoped to be one of them. I've always liked the spotlight and even for a few minutes all the homeless people would be so proud that I put aside all my problems and decided to accept the lord, granted, I hadn't been addicted to meth like so many of the homeless in Abilene, TX. Because of this, I was already half way there to accepting God. The church was really just trying to help so many of these people get off drugs and to give them something to believe in, because believing in themselves wasn't the best idea at the time. Second Grade was a positive experience when it comes to Jesus, but like Fernand, Count of Montage once said "it's too bad it can't always be like this Edmond." One Saturday night when we were getting our clothes ready for church the next day, my father walks into the dinning/bedroom and tells us that he doesn't trust the Minister and thinks he's full of shit. We never went back.
Most of my experiences with God can be explained mostly by an astute state of boredom. Growing up in a town with less than 1,600 people provided little opportunity to do anything else but go to church. Baird, TX has five churches. I have been to four of them. The Baptist Church, The Church of God, The Church of Christ, The Methodist Church, and one that I haven't attended, The Presbyterian Church located right next to the court house downtown. I still think that's so the Christians can prepare for future protests against gay marriage. It's all they have left now that prohibition is over and blacks and women can vote. The Church of Christ always seemed a little scary because many of the hard-ass teachers at my school went to that church, also I didn't have a great record after getting caught adding graffiti to many of the inside covers to bibles and hymnal books there. At three years old I had already been banned. Also apparently there was a Catholic Church around somewhere but must have been on the down low for I never once heard of it's location.
When I was thirteen I had my first actual awful first experience with another young teenage boy from a neighboring town. Afterward I felt like I had made a horrible decision and the local Methodist church seemed like my chance for giving away my gay virginity so soon. So after a few years of careful consideration, I opened the doors and walked right in. The fact that I didn't immediately burst into flames put me at ease, also no lightning or walls fell on me, my head didn't spin around and Jesus didn't appear to the many church-goers chanting "FAKE! FAKE! FAKE!" I peered into many of the small rooms where the youth educational services were offered for church members. It seemed like a classroom aside from all the pictures of a bloody man sacrificed on 8 1/2" X 11" Manila construction paper, to be honest I'd never seen so much red, though I've heard it's very similar in the Bronx. The entire facility was covered in red carpet, WHY? Was this to suggest that Jesus had bled all over the carpet and that once a week on a Sunday morning, we the church-people, got to parade around in it? These people needed a design intervention! Despite the alarming need for Martha Stuart, I ultimately decided let this go, obviously if the people didn't scare the gay out of me, the carpet would. After all, this was the point that I was trying to discover, I'd been tired of feeling guilty, most teenagers just want to fit in and I was no different.
A friend of mine, Kaitlyn, convinced me to join a youth meeting at the church. If there were any two major rivals in Baird, TX it was the Baptist Church vs. the Methodist church. The Methodist's seemed a little more understanding, if they found out I was gay than maybe they'd only push me off a cliff or poison me. The Baptist's seem like the punishment might actually resemble something I'd read in the bible, you know, the really look book with all those great stories. You've heard of the prodigal son right? Well in a past life I was the gay son no one ever talked about. When I came back they hid the livestock, threw stones, and drowned me in a lake, but not before I screwed Alexander the Great. Next I was born again as a Hispanic lady, and now I'm me... gay again.
I've always rooted for the underdog, growing up I'd eat vanilla before I'd eat chocolate, I'd want to go to burger king instead of McDonald's, and eventually I chose the Methodist church over the Baptist. The year I attended the Methodist church was the same year the church decided to put on the biggest reenactment of Jesus' birth ever shown. For Baird, TX that means an estimated nine actors would be playing various roles. Instead of tan burlap sacks stack up to make walls, wood paneling was actually used. My friend played Mother Mary in the scene and it was all too much. After seeing what Mother Mary was like during labor I immediately decided to switch to the Baptist church, if that much baby coming out of a virgin seems pretty unrealistic. The baptists had to of had a better grasp on what was pragmatic.
I was late my first Sunday morning so I entered through the back door where common room was. The church had a rather large youth group and many ask for forgiveness for all the partying they had done the night before. I later came to realize that it was a sort of routine for most who attended the church. If the baptist church stood apart in any aspect it would be in the arts. More over, the art of gossip. Sure, I'd talked behind a friend's back before but I'd always felt bad about it. Now I could feel free to gossip and after all the shit-talking was over all I had to do was pray for that person. I'd never vented so well in my life, and all the guilt was added up and Jesus did the subtracting. I'm not an accountant but I think I only owe 23 dollars to the IRS for profits made from gossiping in the year of 2005. One thing I did notice about this church was that the carpet was completely red. Did some atheist come through town and think it was funny to put red carpet in all the churches? Eventually I had to leave the church because of all the "you're gay and going to hell" stuff. Whatever, my "lifestyle choice" is to never walk into a building with red carpet again. Church people are morbid.
Before I left the church, however, I did accompany the entire youth group to a church camp. I was excited to go, this would be my last chance before I went off to college to pure my spirit of the deadly gayness, or so I thought. My friend Lance, who is also gay, and I were bunk mates during the trip. Looking back now, I find humor in the fact that fashion made its way into Jesus' chambers. It gives me hope if I ever make it up to heaven. My days consisted of group discussion and bible study in the morning, followed by Acting Class for Jesus in the Afternoons, Lunch, than a swim. After swimming we'd get together for another bible study and then off to the concert part of the evening, or worship part. This consisted of plays and scripture and then a band. Afterward the group would get together and once again, have discussion. It was taxing and Louisiana is hot and humid, maybe I wasn't too use to the environment or maybe somebody was spiking my slushy with something toxic but somehow on the last day I broke down. Earlier in the day a couple of the guys in the youth group made a remark about how I was obviously not a virgin because of some girl I must of had sex with. Let me just say that I am not some piece of meat, I'd never sleep with a woman because she has a crush on me, or any other reason for that matter.
After too many slushies I started to cry uncontrollably, the kind of crying when snot pours out of yours nose. Something had come over me and I couldn't keep my secret any longer. Right then and there I confessed my secret. With every youth member around in a circle I confessed that I wasn't a virgin and that it had been troubling me for some time. Everyone seemed real awkward about the information, and I could tell people were fighting back images of me naked. What I neglected to say was that I had sex with a male and that I was gay. People, this was Jesus central and I would have been crucified, I know, because all the youth groups talked about the whole weekend was Jesus' Crucifixion. Today I feel better being who I am rather than trying to keep a lie from all of the religious people who completely turned their backs to me. It is worse to live a life of lies than to continue a journey with an unwanted truth. BAM! Suck on that!
