David Bazan's "Bearing Witness"

Today, I had to drive quite a bit, just throughout town, from place to place. David Bazan's solo album, which debuted about a year ago, but only became a part of my itunes library months ago, felt like the right thing to listen to. David used to be the lead singer and song-writer of Pedro the Lion, a Seattle-based Christian rock group. But in 2004, he had a crisis of faith, and through the painful process of sifting the truth from the stories, he has now reached the conclusion that everything he had believed so strongly for his 30 something years was a lie. In his album, Curse Your Branches, themes of doubt, disillusionment, deconversion, pain, alcoholism that went with this process, disappointment, and renewal are prevalent. I found the song "Bearing Witness" particularly poignant today when I was driving through my city's downtown.

I clung to miracles I have not seen
From ancient signatures I cannot read
Though I've repented I'm still tempted I admit
But it's not what bearing witness is

To full of fear and prophecy to see
The revelation right in front of me
So sick and tired of trying to make the pieces fit
cause it's not what bearing witness is

When the gap between
what I hoped would be
and what is makes me weep for my kids
I take a cleansing breath
and make a positive confession
But is that what bearing witness is?

Though it may alienate your family
and blur the lines of your identity
Let go of what you know
and honor what exists
Son, that's what bearing witness is
Daughter, that's what bearing witness is

Hear him sing it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7qVXev6It94


Whether or not you think that David came to the right conclusion on Christianity and God, you have to admit that his honesty is extremely admirable. To move from belief to disillusionment, and reexamine everything is not for the faint hearted. I am encouraged by him.

I hate feeling this alone.

For the past 8 years, I've lived in the same town, gone to the same church, developed relationships with people who were like-minded and God-centered. My church was everything a Bible-believing Christian could want. My friends were (and are) wonderful people with whom I felt so comfortable expressing my honest thoughts, having a good laugh, and delving deeper into the Bible. I worked and went to school with non-Christians who became acquaintances, but never really friends. I didn't think it was possible to reach the deep level of friendship with non-Christians that I could with Christians, because if someone did not believe what I believed was the most important thing in life, if we couldn't share that belief in Jesus, they would never be able to understand me truly and encourage my spirit the way one of my Christian friends could. Jesus was so important to me that if I didn't have him in common with another, I really wouldn't be able to share a deep friendship with him/her.

Suddenly, I'm not sure about Jesus. And now, all those friends with whom I had so much in common, they feel far away. My best friends, the ones I've cultivated over my time here, they believe with everything inside of them that the Bible is true, that God hears their prayers, that people who don't at one point ask Jesus into their hearts will go to hell. I love them for their faith. They are the kinds of people who really, seriously believe in what they profess to believe, and they live their lives each day in an attempt to bring glory to God and lead people to him. I really love them.

It's just that I've had to keep this from them because of how firmly they believe. I knew that once the news that I, one of the former firm believers (yes, doubt is not new to me, but overall, I have been a very committed Christian and have genuinely believed in the divinity of Jesus, and I have felt certain that I was in a loving relationship with him) was going through a time of honest and real unbelief surfaced, my closest friends would be extremely concerned. I hate disappointing people. I kind of hoped that I could skate by for a while by just having fun with them, talking about how things are going, having the sort of friendship non-Christians have, ones that are real and loving, just without the Jesus talk. But my avoidance of Bible studies and my aversion to conversation having to do with quiet times, the Bible, God, or spiritual growth caused my good friends to wonder what was going on. Of course. I realized that I needed to be honest, even if it meant that things wouldn't be the same and that I would make them sad.

In the past week, I've told two good Christian friends of mine. Now, to say that I've dated a little would be an over-statement, but I do have some experience in that realm. Each time I've mustered up the strength to tell a friend about my religious status, I've been reminded of what it felt like to break up with someone. That hollow feeling in your stomach. The determination to just do it even though you'd rather just fast forward and have it done for you somehow. The knowledge that you need to be honest, but the immense fear and guilt you feel over hurting someone. Unlike breaking up, the people I'm bearing the "bad" news to in these cases don't feel rejected. They can't take what I'm telling them personally. But, they would tell you that what I'm expressing to them is bigger than ending any human relationship, and therefore, the weightiness of my confession hits them, perhaps staggers them. They probably take what I'm saying in with disappointment in me, pity for me, and anxiety over whether or not I'll come to the "right" conclusion in the end. Being the person to inflict all of those feelings onto someone is awful.

I'm just afraid that without the Bible studies, the hugs at church, and the spiritual openness, these close friendships will fall apart. I don't want to be viewed as someone to be saved. I just want to be loved and accepted, encouraged to embrace this new passion for religious understanding. I know that if friends react with worry, it just means that they: a. believe firmly in what the Bible teaches and b. love me and want what's best for me, which is, in their eyes, to be in an every-changing relationship with Jesus. Even if I decide that that's not what's best for me, I can appreciate that their believing it is, just means they really love me.

I don't know where this post is going. I guess I want to know who my new good friends will be if my old good friends fizzle out. I'm not about to change my course because of loneliness; I need to do this for myself. But I'm going to need some community. Hopefully, it will be a diverse body of friends, some old gems and some new ones. Please, just love me for what I am, not for what you hope I'll be. That's all.

What if...

As skeptical as I may sound sometimes in these post, I haven't made up my mind at all about where I stand. Today at work, I was mentally drifting off to the land of "What if" and I came to this question: If I found out that Christianity was bogus, how would I spend my Sunday mornings?

Well one thing that anyone is able to benefit from in church is the sense of community. I love the group of friends I have at my church. I would definitely miss them. But that community of like-minded people could be gained elsewhere... Another thing that's great about church is the fact that you choose to go there (well, unless you're under the age of 18 and your parents make you) because you are interested in religion. So a church alternative could be something I chose based off of an interest in it. That sentence was awkward, but I'm tired. Lastly, church, to me, felt life-giving. I was participating in something that made me happy. A church alternative should be something that's not just level one fun, but level ten. You know? Something that gives me joy, maybe helps me connect with nature. Oh dear, maybe I'll become Wiccan ;)

Ideas that incorporate community, interests, and likability:

• Sunday morning book club
• Sunday morning bike trips
• Coffee shop chat time with friends (it'd have to be other churchless friends)
• Brunch club (I think I keep calling these groups clubs because that makes it sound like it will be a regular thing and that there will be others involved.)
• Spanish club :)

It will be a while before I partake (if I partake!) in any of those activities because first I need to figure out what makes the most sense. I would also need to gain the guts to tell my parents (did I mention I live at home with two very Christian parents who've always seen me as very true to the Faith?) why I wasn't getting prettied up each Sunday morning. And friends... The idea scares me. But if it comes to that, I guess I have some comfort in the thought of discussing Beatrice and Virgil over a cup of joe instead of going along with something I don't really believe like some phony.

Other Sunday morning suggestions?