Christianity Unraveled

January 13th, 2020

I believe in God our Father; I believe in Christ the Son; I believe in the Holy Spirit; Our God is three in one. I believe in the resurrection, that we will rise again, for I believe in the name of Jesus.

Hillsong Worship; "This I Believe (The Creed)"

Many worship songs bring me to tears each Sunday, and this Sunday was no exception. Even so, this time, it was slightly different, but in ways that wouldn't have been noticeable to anyone but a mind-reader. During most of the worship aspect of the service yesterday, I found myself distant from anywhere, being detached and aimless in my wanderings inside my head rather than attempting to be present. Though this has been an increasing experience over the past few months, none had reached this level of indifference. At the very least I could experience sadness or anger. Yet, this week, each moment in the church was empty and emotionless, mere reflexive motions of my vocal chords and extremities. I was there, and I was not at the same time.

Don't get me wrong – I wanted to will myself to not be the person who was staring dead-straight toward the lyrics on the screen and halfheartedly singing the same, even though the lyrics were ingrained in my head and I could have closed my eyes and attempted to sing from my heart. I wanted to raise my hands like those around me in joyful adoration of the Being we were worshiping, much like how I used to do so easily. I wanted to lower my hands in a cupped position and close my eyes and tell God of my love and devotion and of His wondrous deeds and character in the same way I used to –

But I couldn't. I was empty. I was hollow. I wasn't even angry or bitter or sad, which is incredible to say the least. But somehow, I knew that this emptiness was worse. At least I was feeling something before.

The pinnacle came when the last song was being sung: "This I Believe (The Creed)" by Hillsong Worship, with lyrics full of declaration and affirmation of belief created to proclaim our unwavering, dutiful love and faith in God. And I continued to feel nothing as the air escaped my mouth in the form of tones and articulations that matched the other people's songs around me in all aspects except heartfelt meaning.

"I believe in God our Father" – ("Do I?")

"I believe in Christ the Son" – (a lump in my throat begins to slowly form)

"I believe in the Holy Spirit" – ("Who is probably just our reactions to the right amount of stimuli and emotions...")

"our God is three in one" – ("Eh I don't know about that...")

"I believe in the Resurrection" – (my eyes lift and I attempt to swallow the lump and blink away the water that is beginning to well up)

"that we will rise again" – ("What if we just cease to exist after we, well, cease to exist...?")

"for I believe" – (my voice begins to fail me)

"in the name" – (a tear begins to slip...)

"of Jesus..." I mouth, unable to produce a pitch or even whisper the words. My breath staggers as I try to take in air and stop my tears.

("I don't believe in this anymore.")

It is an unsettling understanding to know that you have become the very person you feared most to become. I no longer feel worthy of love, though I wonder if it is due to the ingrained idea that one can only have love if one knows God. I fear my partners response should I tell him (though, I know he would care for and love me regardless, as he has repeatedly told me). I feel the need to completely cut out most people from my life as I feel that our relationships are already severed by my unbelief. I despise my thoughts and wish I could throw them away and return gaily to my innocent and pure love for God and others...and yet I cannot. Even more, it sometimes feels as though I do not want to.

I hope each day that I will be able to miraculously love and believe in God again. I keep searching for answers or even questions in the hope that I will experience his reality once more, but I fear that I am unable to even accept it as reality at this point, even if it were shoved in my face. Oddly enough, I no longer fear what happens after death, as I am now convinced that nothing does. Nothing is real in the notion of spirituality, though the greatest part of my being longs for it to be true. No part of it is true.

At least not today. Today, I do not believe in God. I do not believe in the spiritual. None of it is real.

Even so, I will continue to be there, to go to church, to go to studies...I will go to hope against all reality that God is real. I will go to hope that it will break though to me once more. I will go to hope that one day, I will be there, and I will be there fully.

Today, I do not believe. But today I still have hope.