How I became a “bad Christian”

Over the past year, several people asked about my ‘religious’ background.

A knot forms in my stomach before my usual reply, “I act as if God exists.”

Many might assume this response is one turn from an agnostic-inspired stance, but in my case it’s a lot to do with the defining meaning and deeper implications of ‘belief;’ which embodies, in actuality, corresponding lifestyle actions an individual ‘lives out,’ regardless of whether or not one is conscious of those said ‘beliefs.’

It stems, in addition, from an awkward and complicated personal history. If you MUST label me, ‘bad Christian’ is fairly accurate.

This is not to be mistaken with ‘asshole Christian,’ of course, an entirely different animal, as the expression goes… but I digress.

Bad Christian. Okay, I owe explanations.

Let’s start with the fact that I think God exists. I say ‘think’ instead of ‘believe,’ because the second implies that my lifestyle and day-to-day manifesting existence, in simple terms, would be different than it is.

Next, I ‘act’ as if God exists, in the sense that I go about my life acknowledging his existence, trying to avoid angering him in the ‘worst ways’ and generally honouring the core values and virtues associated with that existence.

Naturally, I am an imperfect human. I make or repeat mistakes daily and sometimes make a mess of things, same as everyone else. That same ‘everyone else’ I wished to be part of when I walked away from my faith, a number of years ago.

Yes, I took my faith very seriously during the days of my ‘belief.’

Even then, I question the use of that word for a number of reasons contained in debatable, philosophical discussions. The type most average people don’t really care for and are occasionally allergic to, because they require deep, thoughtful discourse.

Why did I ‘walk away’ from my faith?… because reasons.

I reached the point where I questioned my beliefs and wasn’t sure what to make of them. In a place where understanding is based on the interpretation and experiences of an individual, the outcome can be as different and similar as one person is from the next. Not to mention vague in both definition and certainty.

People in roles of relative leadership work to convince us their interpretation is the correct one. At times, certain individuals in positions of power abuse their standing, manipulating and/or taking advantage of others, who, quite often, are vulnerable at the time.

More to the point, I lacked clarity. I didn’t know or have certainty whether my interpretation and understanding were correct. I couldn’t trust others to define that and eventually ‘lost my mind’ in the process of figuring out how to make sense of it all.

But there’s more. I was tired of sacrifice.

Suffering constantly felt like the only answer. I had trouble discerning much of it was unnecessarily self-imposed, hanging on the old question of interpretation.

I didn’t want to continue giving everything up and denying myself, ascetically speaking; instead, I wished to experience life fully and enjoy the short time available across our human lifespan.

What led to this moment, anyway?

I was born and raised in Bucharest, Romania, for the first 10 years of my life. My family and I grew up in an Orthodox background.

My experience mostly consisted of periodically repeating a few traditions alongside my parents, without much thought. Three of my grandparents took it seriously, however, while an atheist one dismissed the idea, overall.

One grandfather worked at a church, where he sometimes brought me. I spent hours enjoying a swing he built for me in the church yard, when I wasn’t busy searching for snails or petting stray dogs.

I initially acknowledged the existence of God, because the adults around me confirmed it. Later, once my family moved to Canada, I doubted that existence following numerous arguments by others against it.

I didn’t know much about it, to begin with.

Either way, I was gripped by a restlessness and fear of the unknown that compelled me to seek answers. My quest led me to read books, internet forums, engage in conversations with others and attempt experiments in the effort to find out what lies beyond the veil of life and death.

Prompting this was a series of supernatural experiences I’ve had over the course of my life. They started during childhood, when I felt presences around me and the uncomfortable sensation of being watched.

Growing older, I continued feeling presences following me. I was uncomfortable being home alone, as they frequently bothered me. I felt shivers and a drop in temperature when they were near and quite often, fear.

I realize some people may think this sounds like symptoms of psychosis-related sensory hallucinations, but I assure you there’s a difference between that and what I experienced.

No, I can’t prove it to you.

Over the course of these events, I encountered a problem with my friend Brandi. We weren’t permitted to spend time together, because according to her mother’s faith I was a bad influence.

I was understandably upset and decided to write my friend’s mom, Sue, a long thirteen-page letter describing my grievances with God and Christianity. I knocked on their door and personally hand-delivered it on Christmas Eve, 20 years ago.

After reading my letter, Sue invited me back that same day for a chat.

Brandi wasn’t home, but I spent a few good hours with her mom going over my complaints, frustrations and questions regarding religion and her decision to stand in the way of our friendship.

We spoke at length going back and forth without really getting anywhere, until the moment she made an affirmation that was followed by an unexpected revelation.

Sue told me Jesus is knocking at the door of my heart, waiting for me to open and let him in.

None of her arguments or those from previous others worked, yet after she spoke those words everything changed; not because the phrase alone convinced me… because HE actually did.

I felt the presence of God around me.

His presence was similar to the previous spirits I encountered and yet very different. God’s presence was warm, embracing and uplifting light. Safe and loving. I would soon discover, liberating.

Sue learned that I was bothered by spiritual presences, explained God can protect me from them and offered to pray with me.

Overwhelmed by his beautiful and powerful presence, I agreed, sitting in awe with tears forming around my eyes. She started praying and I joined her by asking Jesus to come into my life and protect me from those demonic spirits.

Jesus answered my prayer and stopped them from bothering me.

I am grateful for God’s intervention to this day. Even though I stumble on my wayward path, Jesus kept true to his protection of me and continues offering grace, love and forgiveness.

Following my encounter with God at 15, I attended a Protestant church with my friend and her family. At one point I stopped, for a number of reasons, before returning to a new place once my own mother found her way to church.

At 20, I decided to get baptized. Years of strong faith continued until I walked away from that life at 26. It’s a long story full of hopes, disappointments and unresolved questions.

Now that I’m 35, I continue searching for and finding my way. Church politics mirror world politics and I left that behind. I seek to find my way in the metaphorical caves and deserts of the wilderness, for a closer, intimate experience.

Most of the time I stand still, sit or even lay down. From time to time, I take another step. Occasionally, more. The journey continues…

Today marks 20 years since my life-changing encounter with God. I am humbled by his patience with me throughout the years, as I’ve gotten some things right and others wrong, while I’m not temporarily giving up.

Thank you, Jesus!

I will strive to be a better version of me. Surely, I will continue making mistakes, slipping and falling, but I won’t let that stop me from getting up and trying again.

For anyone reading this, I wish you a blessed, very MERRY CHRISTMAS! 🙂