Thanksgiving, Part II. Intervention.

I rested my head in my hands and wished with all my might that I could disappear.  The words my uncle had just said echoed in my mind “We hear that you’ve decided to leave the LORD.”  

I felt extremely undignified for a conversation such as this; donned in sweats, face make-up free, hair in a goofy, bedtime bun.  Teresa and I had just had a wonderful evening meeting with a cousin of mine at Colorado’s gem of a piano bar, The Golden Bee.  Fortunately, I’d only had one martini, and had eaten plenty of the complimentary crackers, because if there was ever a time to be sober, this was it.  

“Is that true, Tricia?” 

We’d returned to my aunt and uncle’s house, where my parents, Teresa, and I were staying at around 11.  It felt to me like midnight because of the time change, and I was exhausted after driving 8 hours that day (which ended up being surprisingly free of confrontation from my parents- no overt words about my beliefs).  We entered their huge house, which loomed in darkness, and said to each other “I guess everyone’s in bed.”  As we felt our way up the stairs, passing the high-ceilinged living room where earlier that evening, we had all sat with our wine (Uncle W__ with his Scotch, neat) listening to my aunt and uncle’s vinyl’s play through their extremely expensive and high quality audio system.  That evening, everyone had been so cordial and enjoyable.  As we passed the living room, out of the shadows, we heard my uncle’s baritone voice say “Hey girls!”  We both jumped!  Then, looked over to where the disembodied voice had come from, we saw my aunt and uncle, wearing only their robes and reclining in their comfortable leather chairs, icy glasses containing Polish potato vodka within arm’s reach.

 “Oh wow!  Hi, W__.”  He could tell we were shaken and said “Sorry to scare you!  Did you have a good time?  Did you drink a yard?”  The Bee is known for its “yards”, yard tall glasses filled with the brew of your choice.  “Oh no!!  I could never!”  “What?  No yard?  Did you at least have a few drinks?”  “Well, one.”  “One?  And you said you had a good time!  Impossible!”  “Uhh, I guess we’re not as wild as you are.”  “Ha!”  “Okay… I’m pretty tired and cold.  I’m going to get ready for bed,” I said as I started up the stairs.  They kept Teresa down a few more seconds as I dreamily thought of getting a good night’s sleep.  

A minute later, my face was washed, I was in my PJs, and Teresa said, “They want us to come back down and talk.”  They are almost 70 years old.  I’ve always just been a kid to them.  It boggled me that they wanted to have a late night, adult chat with me, but I figured if they had beckoned, I had better go.  

“Thanks for coming back down, girls.”  The set-up was so weird.  There they were, looking so in control, reclining in the shadows, drinks in hand.  There we were, two young ladies wearing pajamas, sitting on the couch right by the weakly glimmering kitchen light so our faces could be seen, but theirs could not.  Then, as unexpectedly as ever, the words poured out of his mouth “We hear that you’ve decided to leave the LORD.”  My aunt chimed in “Is that true, Tricia?”

I laughed to ease the tension, leaned back, stole a glance at Teresa as if to say “Is this really happening?”, then managed to speak.  “This is really personal.  I wish my parents hadn’t said anything to you about it.”  But it was what it was.  They knew, and they wanted to save me.  

My uncle dominated the conversation.  He told me about all of the signs of the time, his certainty that the LORD will return very soon.  He told me exactly how it would all play out, the future.  His ideas mirrored those in the Left Behind series.  Israel, wars, earthquakes, an Antichrist, the rapture, 7 years of torment for everyone left, “but the children born then would be automatically saved,” then the end to this earth.  “And you want to be sure that you are one of the one’s making it in the Rapture.  You do not want to be down here when the torment is taking place.”  They were evangelizing to me, in a really weird way.  And not only were their methods strange, it was also strange that I was in an evangelism conversation, on the opposite side.  I wondered why they were trying to convert me when I had already grown up Christian and heard everything they were telling me. 

In addition to sensationalist doctrine on the End Times, there were some accusations.  My aunt said, “But, Tricia, we thought you already made this decision.  We thought you had a real relationship with Jesus.”  There were warnings about what could happen to me if I really walked away.  Then some bashing evolution.  There was a moment when my aunt said to Teresa “You’ve been awfully quiet.  What do you think of this?”  (Like someone who only just met these highly opinionated people would be honest about her thoughts!  She had a truth omitting answer: I'm a pastor's daughter [true, but telling?  Still, they accepted it, even asking her to try and steer me in the right direction])  They even warned me about joining “the Arab religion” (really???).  Occasionally, they asked me questions, provided me with gates to enter this “conversation” (it was more like a sermon). 

I had so many things I wanted to say, but I knew that no matter how kind and rational my defensive argument, I could not “win” this battle.  Still, I summoned up the strength and tranquility that I wasn’t feeling and proceed to defend myself.  I explained to them that, yes, I had been a real, very believing Christian.  I’d read my Bible daily, I thought I may one day be a missionary in a faraway country, I lived differently than so many people my age.  I wondered what I needed to do to prove that I hadn’t lived my life up to now as a fake Christian!  But then I explained about the people I’ve read about online or in books who have been to seminary and become pastors, preached before a congregation for years, then have admitted to themselves that they just could not believe and walking away.  

I explained how I had had doubts all of my college years, doubts that had kept me from evangelizing to others, doubts that kept me from feeling like a good Christian, doubts that ate away at my self-esteem.  This break from religion was a long time coming.  I told them that I was not trying to walk away from the LORD, I was only trying to tackle questions that have gnawed at me for years.  Trying to view and process them objectively while still considering yourself a Christian does not work.  You are biased.  The only way to get a balanced view of truth is to detach yourself from belief systems and look at multiple perspectives.  I explained that, if after much research and thought processing, I realize that the Christian beliefs are really true, then I will come back to them with a faith stronger than ever before.  I don’t think God would be mad at me for doing what I needed to do to renew and strengthen my faith.

But, to refute their End Times words, which made up a large percentage of what he said, I said, “Honestly, a return to Christianity would have to be motivated by reasoning and authentic belief, not fear.”  I didn’t even begin to tackle his unsubstantiated claims about evolution, or try to tell him how rude it is to refer a religion that millions of non-Arab people adhere to as “the Arab religion.”  Mostly, I kept things to myself, and wished for this session to come to a close.

Finally, about 45 minutes after Teresa and I had blissfully come in from the cold night, the sermon ended.  I told them that I appreciated what I realized was well-intended, but that I was very tired and did not want to discuss my beliefs any longer.  They were able to respect that, and after some slightly awkward hugs and “Love you’s”, we left our places in the cold, dim living room and returned to our chambers.  My head was reeling for about another 30 minutes with disbelief over what had just happened.  I wondered if once Teresa and I had left for The Bee earlier that night, my parents had shared what was happening with me to them.  I imagined them discussing it in that chilly living room very worriedly, my parents lamenting the loss of a sheep, my aunt and uncle vowing to help them bring me back.  It made me sick to think about.  As I lay in bed trying to quiet my mind, I couldn’t help but realize that until (that is, if I ever do this) I come back to Christianity, my family and friends will pray for me, mourn for my loss, and think that I made a terrible mistake when I decided to leave the LORD, as W__ put it.  

But as you all should know, it's not something you decide.  You can only believe what makes sense to you.  I don't feel bad for doing what I need to do to get to beliefs that I can actually believe.  I just hope that whatever I end up believing doesn't alienate me from my family and friends, or lead to many more Come to Jesus talks.  They are tiring.