Bitter Thanksgiving

 I write this in the month of November. A month of thanksgiving. If you're Christian, then we call it praise, I guess? Gratitude has serious mental health benefits even when, especially when, it's difficult to see the good in life. Earlier this month, I got to spend some time with some friends I haven't seen in years. One of them I hadn't seen in at least 4-5 years, while the other I hadn't seen in more than 20. With a lot of the pain I've been feeling this past year, it was really nice to have old friends to spend time with. We spent a weekend together, mostly doing stuff we did when we were kids. We played Magic: the Gathering. We played vintage video games. It was a lot of fun.

Over the years, I've seen a lot of people leave the Church. Good people. Loving people. People who loved God and loved others enough to volunteer their time and their efforts trying to be a light in the world. And yet they walked away. Most of them no longer even consider themselves Christian anymore. Why? Because they've been hurt, hurt and rejected. Because of who they are, because of who they love. I have seen Queer people leave the Church over and over and over again. Because they were told over and over and over again just how abhorrent they were, how messed up. They were given the ultimatum, over and over again, deny your own happiness, deny part of what makes you who you are, in the name of Jesus, or leave. 

Even though I don't identify as strictly straight, I haven't had to deal with the bigotry nearly to the same degree some friends of mine have. It was relatively easy for me to act straight, since I was close enough already, and keep my tiny skeleton in the closet, so I could continue to participate in the loving community the Church offered. 

There is another community that I was a part of that suffered from chastisement, was subject to bigotry, that I also just missed. Nerds. Maybe it sounds stupid to you, but any Christian nerds or geeks out there will understand where I'm coming from. I grew up in a world where churches were burning Harry Potter books and Pokemon cards. I grew up playing games like Dungeons and Dragons and Magic: the Gathering. I had Christian friends who played Magic, too, but their parents didn't allow them to play certain colors of cards, or they would only play with me in isolated rooms where the rest of the church wouldn't be able to see them. 

Which, I guess, brings me to what I've been really thinking about lately that has me truly grateful. My parents were messed up kids. While they were teenagers and young adults, they did some stupid things. With my dad, before he died, that meant that whenever he told me he was proud of me, he meant it. I never doubted whether or not my dad was proud of me. There were never any strings attached. Others might say it, but it often came with strings attached, as in "I'm proud of you, now just behave the way I want you to," or, "I'm proud of you, but..." Stuff like that. With my dad, there was none of that. There was just "I'm so proud of you." I never understood why, not until I had time as an adult to reflect on it. 

My dad was an alcoholic when he was younger, and had always been a smoker, since he was a kid. He slept around, got into fights, did stupid things at school and in rebellion against his overbearing parents. Compared to the train wreck his life was at my age growing up, I was a good kid, my life was on a good track. Without him having to tell me any of that. He made a lot of mistakes as a young person, and as a result, his pride in me was real. No matter how low I felt, no matter how messed up I felt like I was, it was nothing compared to where he had been, so he never held it against me. 

My mom, as judgmental and sanctimonious as she can be nowadays, she had a pretty bad relationship with her own parents, because her dad was a jerk and her mom was an enabler. He was really judgmental of her, and she was really rebellious. She hung out with some folk that her parents didn't approve of. So, when she became a mother, and her daughter started living a life that reminded her of herself, hanging out with other kids that were bad influences, when I started hanging out with nerds, she approved. When I wanted to stay over my friends' houses until two in the morning, we weren't partying or drinking or doing drugs or having sex. We were playing games, with cards and dice. My friends had been bullied, just like me, so were loyal for years. They did well in school. So, my mom gave me a pass on things that other Christian families were awful about. I got to play my games. I got to read my books, watch my movies and shows. 

Which, exposed to me ideas that my mother doesn't approve of today, but frankly made me a much better human being and a better Christian. I saw God's influence in my life, in the lives of my family, and the lives of my community for far too long to simply dismiss his existence. Yet I read a lot of science fiction books, looked up to a lot of very smart people who condescended to people of faith. My wrestling with the illogical dogma of the Church helped me see the same kind of thing in the scientific communities that I admired so much. Just like the Queer community, intellectuals have been rejected by the Church for centuries. Especially when materialism and then evolution became more prominent beliefs. The Church set itself up as the opponent against science, against non-heteronormative existence. In their narrative, they see themselves as the heroes when, in fact, they have set themselves up as the grand villains of history. 

Being a geek and a nerd, however, has taught me how to distinguish between an idea and a person who thinks they believe that idea. Science and rationality has given me the ability to think critically. So, when others reject their faith, reject God, because Christians have been really shitty to them, I can separate those two. I can acknowledge that many Christians are shitty, without blaming God for it. 

In the end, I'm grateful that I had a mom that let me explore my education, that let me find a home among geeks and nerds and others that have been rejected from the traditional model of American society. I'm grateful that I had the chance to explore my faith from a critical perspective, letting go of the bathwater without throwing out the baby. My faith in God is all the stronger for it today. If I hadn't learned how to think for myself, or separate God from the awful Church that acts in his name, I would have left him behind, too. 

I think there are others out there. Others that miss the community that Church gave them. That miss the love of God in their lives. That think they can't have that because it would mean rejecting part of who they are. I wish I knew how to reach out to those types. To let them know that Jesus didn't do away with them just because the disciples did.