Why does God hate me?

Part 1

Why does God hate me?

(Based on a short film by Capliano University, or this starting chapter)

LGBTQ+

The car pulled up to the small building from the main road and rode into one of the designated spaces.

A young woman, around twenty, with straight brown hair and large brown eyes sat at the wheel with her head tucked in her hands. Unshed tears were in her eyes when she brought her leather handbag up to her chest and pulled her keys into her pocket before pulling the car door open and stepping out.

'That is God's child' Was flashed in her face as she made her way through the crowd of people shouting at her. They told her she was wrong and just as bad as a murderer. The tears in her eyes burned further and finally dropped onto her cheek. More banners and signs saying phrases like 'Don't destroy', 'Murder' and 'Save don't slay' were flashed in her face as she carried on through the crowd of shouting people. Her hands rested on her stomach as she pushed past trying to get to the entrance to the abortion clinic.

She almost got to the door before her breath caught in her throat: a baby was held in front of her crying out with weary eyes as the woman who was holding him shouted at her.

Yes, I know what you're thinking, who brings a baby to an abortion rally? Well, the answer to that question is my parents. And that screaming ball of joy is me.

*

Hi, my name is Matthew. I grew up in a fundamentalist Christian town called Redding, California.

Yes, I was that kid who carried a bible, only watched television about Christianity and was in bed by eight.

I had my parents and my older brother, Luke. We lived in a decently sized house on a normal street of neighbourhood barbecues every week, Sunday school and cut lawns. Our life was that of a normal devoted christian family. Boring and awfully dull. 

Even though this seems a dull prospect i insist you read the story i want to tell. It all starts back when i was six.

*

Now even though this was years ago and i was six i can still remember that night. I had just finished my homework and it was seven in the evening, my brother still wasn't home even though he was meant to be in two hours ago to babysit me while my parents were at a rally.

"Matthew sweetheart, we'll be back late so make sure you are in bed by eight." My mother chided from the doorway.

"Its a school night, and God doesn't want you to see the the horrible things we're gonna see." My father backed up with a pointed finger and a small smile.

 Even though i should have been looking directly at their faces as they said goodnight i just couldn't find myself able to take my eyes away from my dads shirt. 'Fag = Sin' was written in bold letters on the shirt and i just couldn't stop looking. It seemed foreign to me, even though i grew up in a christian family, to see gay people as sinners. I suppose you could say i was too young to understand it but at least i knew i didn't like it.