My Ramblings: So I'm Going to Hell Then

I have decided to introduce my 'ramblings' to my posts. These will be the thoughts that I have running through my mind, which happens quite often.

This is a post about religious/spiritual beliefs from my point of view. Questions regarding life, death, the afterlife and Higher Powers as well as the consequences of sin is something that I have thought about incessantly throughout my life, and so this is where I am in my beliefs.

I grew up in a Christian home.

My siblings and I, along with my mother, lived with my grandparents. My mother and her parents – especially her father (my grandfather) who was an elder in the church – were very strict in terms of our Christian denomination’s teachings, and they did everything in their power to instill their beliefs in me.

I struggled from the very beginning, and I really can’t pinpoint the exact reason why. Their church made me feel stifled, restricted and sinful even as a little girl.

 

I was taught that I was born a sinner. This is the first thing that confused me. I mean, come on now, really? So there I was, a little bundle of ignorance at its’ best, and I was this sinner who was destined to hell unless I professed that Jesus is the Son of God and that I accept him as my personal Lord and Savior, or else? My head could never wrap around the whole idea of it. I mean, why would anyone who has so much power allow somebody to be born, only to test that somebody over and over again until the said somebody proves themselves enough to be allowed into the Kingdom of Heaven? What game was this, and why was I forced to play?

I can remember when my uncle and his wife welcomed their first child into the world. They lived with us for a few months, and I would look at him as he lay asleep in his crib, all warm and peaceful (and unaware of anything surrounding him), and I felt so sorry for him. I thought about how horrible it was that if he were to die at that very moment, he would go to hell forever, to burn in the lakes of fire and something else that I can’t recall too clearly, where he would be wrapped up in the pretty knitted blanket, gnawing and gnashing his non-existent teeth for all of eternity, and it made me so confused, and so angry.

I had heard the adults say ‘ignorance is bliss’ a few times, and my mother had told me what it meant when I asked her. That saying was something that I fully understood. I wished that my family had just not told me about any of their beliefs- life would have felt so much easier and not as scary. I mean seriously, I was scared- scared for the next minute, because God forbid that was the minute I would think or say or do something damaging to my afterlife.

 

The second question I had was regarding people who were not Christian.

I mean, of course I would question this: I knew, even as a little girl, that there were people who were born into families who were not Christian and some of them were my friends. I would have been heartless not to worry about them.

I asked my grandfather about it because it troubled me immensely. And that just brought about another uneasy feeling to add to the other mounting discomforts that ‘religion’ gave me.

He told me that God gave those friends to me so that I could be the light in their lives, to teach them about the ‘right way’.

If it wasn’t for the ‘respect your adults’ lesson my mother taught me, I would probably have yelled at my grandfather in his face. His answer to me just got me that winded up.

The first thing I wanted to yell at him was, in hindsight, a bit childish, but I wanted to ask him if he expected me to befriend everyone or how the hell else were we going to save the world? I was so worried for the lives of the innocent people who hadn’t yet discovered ‘the truth’.

The second thing I wanted to yell at him was a question: if the others were brought up to believe their own thing, why would they listen to me, in much the same way I wouldn’t listen to them, because don’t we all believe that our way is the right way?

The whole situation was frustrating.

I didn’t want to go to hell, but this crap was making me angry.

 

Many things happened in my life while I was growing up; sad, horrible things.

I was told that I would find peace and healing in the Bible and in church. I wished that I could. But the truth was that I only left church feeling worse.

What is it with churches and the people who occupy them that leave one with the strangest taste in one’s mouth- the taste of ‘judgment’.

Hey! I’m not here to judge or to look down on anyone who loves church, especially if that’s what brings you peace and love and all the other great feelings. All I’m saying is that I am getting tired of being told I am going to hell because I’m not feeling the same vibes. That’s it! And I’m not even hash tagging it.

 

I feel most at peace when I am one with nature, sitting by the beach, walking in the mountains, writing down my thoughts while a breeze blow gently at my pages or while watching the birds peck at the grass in my front garden.

I feel overwhelmed with love when I speak to my mother who has passed away.

I feel wonderful when I hum to myself and consume the entire room that I’m in with my melody.

I do not harm anyone and I only want what’s best for everyone.

And yet, this means that I might just go to hell?

 

You see, here’s the thing though: I no longer care.

I can’t possibly go through my whole life living with this fear that I might be doing something wrong in the eyes of the Lord. I don’t have time for that ever-present fear.

I am not a bad person. Of course I slip up here and there now and again by perhaps losing my temper or saying something nasty, but I am not someone who finds it difficult to apologize. I am human and I make mistakes. And me standing around telling people that I accept the Lord as this or that and do whatever is required of me to stand a chance at everlasting life isn’t going to stop me from being a human who makes mistakes, so WHAT THE HELL???

 

I have come to a conclusion for my life when it comes down to religion, though.

I have studied so many other religions, but I have never felt comfortable about everything taught, and I can’t possibly follow a system with which I am not 100% comfortable.

I believe in a Higher Power (of which I do not know a name yet) because there are so many things and connections I feel for something greater than myself, that it must exist, and I’m ok with it.

I love people, animals and nature, respecting them all, and trying my utmost not to hurt any of them.

I do not cast blame on others or look down on beliefs that are unlike mine; all I ask is that when someone shares their beliefs with me, to keep the exchange light and conversational, and resist shoving it down my throat or judging me for not sharing the same sentiments.

 

I believe in love. I believe in kindness. I believe in people. And if that’s a problem in this life, on this world, then I guess I am already in hell.