Category Archives: Progressive Christianity

Christmas Wrap Up

Hello!

It is that time of year again for me to complain about not wanting anything to do with Christmas. In some ways I won a little, as Richard has been feeling rather unChristmassy: we did not put up the big tree. My little fiber optic one is filling in the void.

My animals were to get the treatment, but I could not be arsed.

It is not all bad; we are going to the UK next year! I am not sure when it will be, as cost is the biggest obstacle. We do have enough funds to get there, only now we have to save for the visit. That is very much doable.

What to do until then? “First, you need to get the cars fixed,” you say. “Yeah, but after that?” I ask. I need to sit and do research on our destination. Richard has three things on his list:

1. A photo of Buckingham Palace
2. A photo of Big Ben
3. A visit to Stonehenge

I have three times a thousand-million things I want to do. I am so thankful for my lovelies in the UK who will be our hosts. OMGOSH!

On a health standpoint, things are the same. I am still crazy. Crazy in a good way, I hope. The down moments still happen, but you know what? I take them with a pack of pencil crayons or a dash of music mixing. I still have diabetes and rheumatoid arthritis. Though, I have discovered probiotic drops are doing some good work. My rear in review will happen next week; be prepared.

You caught that? ūüėČ

I sent out my annual ‘There is No War on Christmas’ greeting cards. Oh, its usually the same people guity of blaming the Atheists for Christians being oppressed, not realising they are doing to themselves. What would ikkle (borrowed this word from my friend Tony ūüėä) baby Jesus do?

Not much. The Christians believe God came to the Earth as Jesus to save sinners. In this example, he would be thinking: “I have to add more to the list. Gosh.”

No matter what side you are on during this season, remember just love each other; don’t give in to the hate. As we prepare to celebrate Christmas with Richard’s parents and sister, we remember those who have left us and those who are too far away. Take everyone in your heart, hold them tight and tell them how much you care, no matter how silly it sounds.

Richard and I wish you all a great holiday.

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Oratorio Oh No

I volunteer with the Saskatoon Symphony Orchestra and this past Saturday was their annual Messiah Sing-Along, and I had the privilege to work this performance. It was also the same day as Richard’s work Christmas party. The review of the Christmas party gets its own block for another day.

As we live out of town, it would have been too far out for me to go to the show and run back to Waldheim to pick up Richard in time for his par tea. I decided to buy him a ticket for the show. I should have guessed from the look of his face I made a mistake.

We all know Handel’s Messiah. Well, not really; we know the Hallelujah part of the deal. Most of the world does not realise there is a beginning, more of a middle and an end. The Hallelujah isn’t even the end of the work. Ricky O’Bannon of the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra gives a great historical review:

5 Thing You Might Not Know About Handel’s Messiah

Richard suffered greatly through the performance, stating during the intermission that he should have gone to a movie. He does not like opera, though I told him this was not an opera, he obviously could not care less. I value his opinion on this subject. He has been blessed with my constant grumblings on Star Trek and The Walking Dead. 

Richard told me the combinations of sounds bothered him. I have never played my CD version of Messiah for Richard. He does find some choral performances uncomfortable to his ears. At first, I could not understand, but after taking a step into his space, I realised his point. Unlike hymns sang in church, with harmonies, the voices are singing the same words at the same time. Choir performances are not always so simple. The art comes in the waves of words, interminglings of sentences and the musical instruments filling in some of the voids. The airs and recitatives sung by the soloists mirror opera, of course, but in Messiah, these introductions to the various parts of the story are so important.

Though I no longer adhere to any religious beliefs, this piece somehow makes me miss church. The point of Messiah is to invoke feelings of love, compassion, and the need to believe. I think the history of the work, the process and the purpose for its creation is enough for me to feel the feels. I have listened to this throughout the year, like a puppy, it is for life, not just for Christmas.

I tried my best to make this performance special for both of us. As mentioned, I volunteered this day and this meant I had to leave him alone at times. The concert took place at Knox United Church in Saskatoon, a 104-year-old building, a place of history. The setting of Messiah was perfect, though not written for Christmas and not originally performed in a church (almost an unheard of thing to be done in the 18th-century), this building needed this piece played here. The beauty of Handel’s music and the words of Charles Jennens made for a wonderful moment. I was part of a truncated performance of Messiah in university when I was part of the Concert Choir. our performance of the work was done at First Presbyterian Church in Regina. The vibe was not the same; there was no weakening of the knees . Not like Saturday.

Though Richard did not like the time spent amongst the chamber players, the chorus – spectators were encouraged to sing along (hence the name of the show), and the soloists, the day was brightened by him just being there. I understand not to play this for him on our trip to Tisdale for Christmas. Granted, I do give him credit for not liking Schubert’s Ave Maria, everyone’s favourite Christmas dirge. He skips this one every time. *praise hands* 

Unfortunately, I will still be blessed with Michael W Smith’s Greatest Christmas Hits.

 

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Missionary Positions – Round Two

Last night (1 December 2016) I treated myself to supper at the café in town. Richard had to go to Québec for a family matter, so I have been left again on my own.

I ordered soup with soy dumplings; interesting taste, but not something I would keep on my Favourite Food list. Whilst eating my soup I overheard two young women (mid-twenties?) discussing the power of the Lord. In Waldheim, that is not unusual. The conversation was loud, emotional, yet 110% positive, something that is also not unusual for Waldheim.

I had a shitty day yesterday, and honestly, the part of the conversation I heard last night made we ANGRY. One of the young girls, after having a massive Jesus moment (the breakdown happen in Laird, but Waldheim MB is her home church), declared she will be going on a worldwide Bible study. Basically, there is a program that lets participants learn about the places of the Bible in real time: Peter wrote a letter to the Corinthians, you can go to Corinth, Greece (it still exists). Jerusalem, Turkey, Ephesus (which, technically, is in Turkey) and the whatnot. Not knowing who this opportunity is through, I found a site offering the same travel experience: Bible Land Tours.

The squeaks of delight from the young lady geared up to go and her friend made me sense something was not right.

Funding for the trip. Yes, that is what I was thinking in the back of my cryptic crossword mind. It brought to mind a pamphlet Richard brought home this past Sunday. One of the locals is going on a mission trip to someplace that is home to some strange people (unbelievers, I think). As per the ritual, it began with an introduction of this young person’s lineage, the moment of blessed realisation, the plan, then ended off with the plea for spiritual and financial help.

The missionaries from Richard’s church all have the drive, but not so much the money. Richard, like this Sunday, refused to even consider giving money to this young man. “Who’s going to help us pay for the brakes on the car? The people at church?” We did not have to answer that. I bring this up every time this subject comes up, but the goodly church folk don’t get it, or don’t care. In fact, when the Missions Conference is held in the Town of Waldheim, Richard does not to go to church on those Sundays, out of pure protestation.

The group this chap is with has a “training” centre in Jamaica:¬†YWAMDP. If you a choice between learning how to steer people to the Lord in a makeshift meeting hall on 20th Street, Saskatoon or a seaside hut in Jamaica, the choice is an easy one, especially when you are twenty. Do not get me wrong, there are young people willing to dispose of their selfishness and replace it with self-fullness through Christ, no doubt.

Not knowing the status or the purpose of this young man’s trip does not change the fact that asking for money in such a way undermines the purpose if the Great Commission:

Mark 6: 7-12

7¬†And he called his twelve disciples together and began sending them out two by two, giving them authority to cast out evil[a] spirits. 8¬†He told them to take nothing for their journey except a walking stick‚ÄĒno food, no traveller‚Äôs bag, no money.[b] 9¬†He allowed them to wear sandals but not to take a change of clothes.¬†10¬†‚ÄúWherever you go,‚ÄĚ he said, ‚Äústay in the same house until you leave town. 11¬†But if any place refuses to welcome you or listen to you, shake its dust from your feet as you leave to show that you have abandoned those people to their fate.‚Ä̬†12¬†So the disciples went out, telling everyone they met to repent of their sins and turn to God.¬†(Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright ¬© 1996, 2004, 2015 by Tyndale House Foundation. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.)

Oh, you did not know this is part of the plan, did you? I called up the wrong quote. Well, Matthew was not the only one talking about letting it all go to spread the glory of the Lord.

Okay, this is 2016 and a person cannot enter a country willy-nilly and all that. Proper documents are needed, shots are required, language lessons may be necessary, and yes, money is now needed to get anywhere. I understand. A former co-worker quit his job and one Sunday spoke at Richard’s church outlining the monthly needs to keep his mission plan running and the amount of funds needed to support him, his wife and six children. Richard walked out. Though I was still attending church at this time, I did not go because the whole cast of MMFI were there to show support. I would have needed good dope to attend, just to kill the need to tell my former boss to f-off.

But, I digress.

You see, there are just too many missionaries. How many souls does God really need? How many points does a denomination get for each person “saved”? From my experience, letting someone know about God and Jesus through conversation can be enough to light a fire. I know there are groups in out local areas that are mission minded, Richard and I give graciously. You know I am no longer part of the Christian group, but money given from Richard comes from his pocket, money we could use to fix our house and fix our car. Local missionaries don’t seem to respect this.

Sorry young lady, I know you will be putting your plan through the churches in Waldheim and Laird, but guess what, you’re going to have to make due with help from others.

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Progressive Waldheim Boots

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Progressive Church Boots

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Another Day in Paradise

I finally gathered up enough gumption to watch the church service the morning of the shooting at Pulse in Orlando, 12 June 2016. It was mentioned to me, through an argument, that there was a mention of the victims and a prayer for them and their families. Yeah, not really. The event itself was not mentioned by name and the victims were not mentioned as being part of the LGTBQ family. Lady, you downright fibbed to me. Here is the part she was talking about:

(1)

Yes, I only included the audio, as the video is not the best and we really don’t need to see what the pastor looks like. In all fairness, I listened and watched the service from the following week, but alas, there was nothing. Well, I should not be too upset, as the fires in Fort McMurray were still raging and it was Father’s Day. Then I remembered, some of the fathers of those killed will never see their children again. Some of the men at Pulse were fathers, they would never see their children again. Some of the women killed at Pulse may have had children. Though these women may not be fathers, the children are without mothers.

Friends, Family Gather to Mourn Orlando Shooting Victims (2)

I forced myself to watch this commentary after listening to Nadia Bolz-Weber’s book Pastrix: The Cranky, Beautiful Faith of a Sinner & Saint. I read the book last year and was mesmerised, so I decided to listen to Ms Bolz-Weber’s narration on the trip to Vancouver. I was still going to church at this time I read the book and discovered a strong urge to kick love back into the church I was going to; the one this audio quote comes from. Hearing the blas√© attitude, but genuine condolence, I was reminded there is such a long way to go for acceptance. I mentioned on Facebook (after posting a story about the limited acceptance of LGBTQ people in the “church”) that if it were up to one of the pastors in town, I would not be allowed to enter the building in which he preaches. The clip I have posted here alludes to my point. I had to edit some parts of the sermon, as they were rambly; bigly. The whole thing is also twenty-eight minutes long. (Reference to 1 Corinthians 5:6-8)

Your glorying is not good. Do you not know that a little leaven leavens the whole lump? Therefore purge out the old leaven, that you may be a new lump since you truly are unleavened. For indeed Christ, our Passover, was sacrificed for us.c]”>[c] Therefore let us keep the feast, not with old leaven, nor with the leaven of malice and wickedness, but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth.

(3)

There was a rebuttal the next week, but in allness, the damage was already done. When this was preached 12 October 2014, I was still grasping at what I was all about. I came out as bisexual the day of the shootings in Orlando, one year and eight months after this speech was given. I was fuming. My heart ached with the realisation the kids and adults who are silently identifying as lesbian, or gay, or bisexual, or transgender, or questioning, would not be welcomed in this place. They are to be turned away for the sake of the “church”. Do they turn away those who have been divorced? Do they turn away those who watch pornography? According to the sermon by this pastor, the church should be empty.

Maybe I am still looking for a reason for God? Then again, I will still find the same thing. People like me are not welcome here. I have found an ally; however, she is in a difficult place as well. We cannot talk to each other about our situations over a cup of coffee at the café. She says people here are scared. Scared of what? I know most of the people in Waldheim are not scared of Halloween, but they have an annoying habit of starting their candy hunt at three bloody thirty in the afternoon.

I am wailing over the same thing, and I am guessing you are getting tired of it. Lately, everything I read, see and listen to reminds me of the element I am missing. God is still here, only I need to look again.The other side of my brain says “no, Wendy, it is a creation by humans in order to explain the unexplainable.” You should be in the same room when I have this “discussion”, it is rather sad. I accept others and their beliefs in a deity, as my husband is a believer. There are progressive churches in Saskatoon and Regina, I know there are. Mennonite Central – the Saskatchewan version – is not quite ready. There was a gay couple married in the Osler Mennonite Church, so there is a hope, there is a light. I don’t want to say this, but Waldheim needs a good ol’ Enlightenment.

I will get right on that after I get my crafting table put together. I am tired and the town is tired. Mind you, it may be worth having another conversation with those who make the deals with God.

By the way Halloweeners, we don’t get home until 6.00pm, and don’t bother to sit on the front step when we get home; there will be nothing here for you.

 

(1) Waldheim Mennonite Brethren Church, 12 Jun. 2016. Web. 30 Oct. 2016.
(2) Campo-Flores, Arian. “Friends, Family Gather to Mourn Orlando Shooting Victims.” WSJ. Wsj.com, 19 June 2016. Web. 30 Oct. 2016.
(3) “How to Deal with Problems” Waldheim Mennonite Brethren Church. 12 Oct. 2014. Web. 30 Oct. 2016.

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Juss Cuss

If you feel you don’t fit in with a group, whether it being your workplace, a family function, or a Facebook collective, please remember that you were hired, born into, or invited for a reason. In some cases, the very people who roped you in may feel the same way. I am not saying you should do a survey, but I have a sneaking suspicion I am pretty close.

You may have people tell you to adjust your behaviour, yet it seems the one who has served thirty years at the same job (for example) did not get the same message. This may be true, but you also don’t know what changes they’ve made before you arrived on the scene; they may have been a lot worse. Stuff went on before you/me arrived. That is not to say we do not need some improvement, only thing to do is review the criticism (as this is what it is 98% of the time) and take stock of what can be changed versus what you think should be changed. Remember, you may feel you are in a place that is the personification of inbred cocker spaniels doing human things, but your introduction may have off-set the balance. You may have to re-calibrate yourself at first then slowly introduce your real self.

Goodness gracious, change can be good … for everyone. Speaking on a personal level, I am so lucky to have been able to express my innermost feelings (at a price), my dreams (no matter how far-fetched), and my artistic abilities (relating to finished projects). Take pride in change, even the bad ones. Of course, the bad one is not good, but the good one will not be bad.

I am not the same person I was two years ago or five days ago. We all have something holding us back and something pushing us forward. I have made concessions, agreements, and promises – some of these welcomed, some through sheer disapproval. Now, you know that not everyone will like you, and in turn, you will not like them. That is part of human nature. Actually, not all lions get along, so it is a NATURE thing, human or Panthera leo. Do not be upset; yet on the flipside, do not be the one upsetting. The thing about relationships is sometimes it is not about you, me, him, or her. Other times is is always about you, me, him, or her. Developing a good relationship comes with altering behaviour and accepting behaviour.

Forget the saying “walk a mile in someone else’s shoes.” That is a ridiculous concept. You should be prepared to support, or as I do, carry people in your heart. You cannot experience a person’s joys and sufferings, and they cannot do the same for you. We are only witnesses to each other’s happenings, whether we are physically there or we hear about it over the waves. Compassion is the key to surviving the relationship thing. When I was a practicing Christian, I found it more difficult to care about someone, for fear I was doing it wrong. No, I take that back, I cared differently. Now that I have stepped aside, I see compassion exists. There are people who I have worked with who believe in the power of the Ouija even though it is a made-up game. I giggle, but I have learned not to mention this out loud. I have seen charitableness in a thousand-million forms from my Christian brothers and sisters with no judgement (well, maybe a bit, but they are human). My Atheist and Agnostic cohorts are some of the first to step up and help someone in need. That is awesome!

It is also a crutch.

We all have background things to deal with, some are more frontal than others. I am not afraid to share. Hey, it’s all part of healing. I have learned to be nice to everyone, obvs. I have also learned to carry secrets. I have experienced high-school behaviour amongst forty year old adults. We all have. Granted, some of us are guilty of being one of the accused. Be honest. 

Please, let’s all just be good to each other. Stop collecting info on Facebook, start collecting Pok√©mon. I do not have the capacity to work at your high-speed level. You may not be able to comprehend the works of Geoffrey Chaucer. Teamwork, I think is the word I am looking for. We are in this together, but sometimes others are more enthusiastic than their partners. Punishing a friend or a co-worker for a meltdown is not how we are supposed to get things done.

Humiliation is not the key to compliance. I do not like a clean desktop (the one on a desk not a computer). You may not like photographs in silver frames. As I mentioned earlier, we need to accept the fact we need to make adjustments, we have quotas to fill, we have cupcakes to make, and sometimes the procedures change. Like living in a new city, we have to learn to read a new map.

We need to rely on each other to make sure the squeaky wheel gets greased. We need to follow the rules, yet be prepared to change things up. We all have gifts and skills along with issues and problems. If a co-worker does something to piss you off, say something. Don’t shun and play favourites; it makes you look silly. It is up to us to encourage each other and break down barriers.

By breaking down barriers, I do not mean break the coffee pot.

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OMGosh

I apologise for not stepping in here a little bit. Long bit, more like it. I need to discuss my feelings, my fears and my hopes that have sprung up since that awful moment in Orlando on 12 June, 2016.

image

I have been busy making stuff out of rocks, string, glue, music and trying to grow vegetables. I was finishing up a gift for a friend when I heard the news.

I have been questioning my own self as of late, and I am excited to be free of holding my true self in a room with no air, but Sunday scared the shit out of me. On Saturday I became more settled in the state of time I am living in. My stories are evolving, now I need to get back to writing them down to be looked at. The weather is making it more complicated because it is so warm. My rheumatoid arthritis is enjoying the warmth and keeping calm whilst carrying on. I have not been reading much lately, but then, summer makes it tough to curl up with a good book. See, real life continues through the questions and the answers.

I have a new haircut:

image

I have decided to go blonde and pink. This haircut also has caused some awful names, the primary one being “butch”.

Some of you may have seen my videos. The videos of me being me. You may only know me through my wordsmithing on der Facebooken, but I have started to open up more, thanks to some great people I have found over the ocean. I have disclosed my secrets, my feelings and my fears. My friends are trustworthy, caring, progressive, and most of all, loving. I am so lucky to have become friends with a great bunch over the Atlantic.

Not seagulls. The ones in Cornwall are the size of oxen.

image

(Photo courtesy of usedwigs.com)

I came across an interesting post yesterday (13 June) questioning why there has been no coverage of the events in Orlando. I had a WTF moment. Being the distributor of useless information, I shared the following link: http://www.patheos.com/Progressive-Christian. Without divulging too much, I got into a bit of trouble when I was told some people took offence to my comment as to why the pastors in Waldheim do not empathise with the LGBTQ community. Let’s just say one church included the fallen in their prayers on Sunday.

Wow.

I have to give the pastor a lot of credit, considering his other sermons which were not even close to kind. One sermon (by the associate pastor)¬†basically said gay people should be banned from the church.¬†The infamous quote “love the sinner, hate the sin” was introduced by one person in regard to how they would handle their child being gay. Yes, you still need to love them, but not accepting their sexual orientation is pretty damn near abandonment. I met some great LGBTQ youth at a function on Friday and Saturday. The love and compassion for the Lord¬†they want to spread across the span of the world is amazing considering their own lifestyle is a grievous sin – apparently. No comment was made when I mentioned God is their only judge.

Richard and I have started our UK trip planning. We are looking at 2018, but I could go over yesterday. Richard asked if I would move to the UK and I would if I could work at my job from there. I am selfish; my job is keeping me here. I have never been so relaxed and content in my job life. I would miss even the most irksome moments if I moved. Moving to Saskatoon is a more acceptable option, sadly. Moving from Waldheim will not take me away from the hatred, but it will remove me from burning something down with my heated, angry heart. There was contempt shown to me by someone who agreed there should be more compassion. My husband and my friends know the true meaning of compassion.

After going over the event of Sunday I figured it is not me with the problem. As a friend said, in regards to the gay question, “things are no longer black and white.” My LGBTQ brothers and sisters who died and were seriously injured left more than their emptiness here, but grieving families and friends. Being more compassionate to your gay, lesbian, transgender and bisexual son or daughter takes a lot more than mere words. A review of your own morals and changes to your reading of the Word may help in figuring this all out. As I told the mother-in-question: “spend some time with those in the LGBTQ community” and suggested a more progressive look at the biblical world around her.

The conversation ended abruptly. Well lady, I’m not done.

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Yare Me Matey!

I have discovered the awesomeness of caring.

I have spent the last little while complaining that not enough people care, but I have overlooked those who do, and do it without promotion or incentives. Why did I turn my back to these wonderful people? By leaving religion, I left a piece of my humility. My drive for fairness (which caused me a lot of anger and sadness in the past and present) has not disappeared, but I hoped for a rebirth of human kindness. Not spouting Scripture, but common humanist sense has actually become just as powerful and annoying.

Oops, I think I split an infinitive.

I have been asked by a friend to keep a hold on the Lord, keep loving the Lord. I was gobsmaked. I never thought of my friend having such a devotion to God like he does. I was relieved that he still cares, regardless of my separation. Oddly enough, I cannot seem to let go at the same time, even though I wonder if God really is there. Jesus is another basket of fish. My friend cares about me (and Richard, btw) and I care about him, his wife and his boys. He told me to not be afraid of questioning who we are and our purpose. God has His reasons for everything and sometimes we have to be left in the unknown. He also asked for me to not feel compelled to follow doctrine (Catholic, Anglican, Mennonite or whatever), as it can be smothering.

Just love the Lord.

I think my friend helped me find my way. As I can only do so much, worrying over the acceptance of God, in my opinion, is over. God has to take me as I am. I need still be kind and loving, but not a pushover. Oh goodness, that sounds weird. If my non-Christian neighbour is an asshole, I will tell him. If my Christian neighbour is being an asshole I will do the same. Before you get all “OMG”, I will not call him or her by that name. In person.

I guess saying this with my inside voice is displaying the sin in my heart. Having confessed it with my outside voice does not mean it is forgiven. Maybe. I don’t know. Seeing my husband come home in a silent rage over another mindless speech about the horribleness of homosexuality and the wondrous work of the multi-thousand dollar sound system makes me think most people believe sin comes in various sizes – the sin of a committed same-sex relationship is worse than the sin of pride, just so you know.

Knowing my Christian friends and Atheist friends are in this life with me is helping me deal with my uncomfortable feelings and I am here to be an ear and an extra heart in time of sorrow and joy. Whether you give your shortfalls a name (sin) or observe these moments as reason for change, I think that is what God and humans want in the end. Not believing in God is not going to turn you into a demon, but then believing in God is not going to get you into heaven either.

If you feel separated from you church for reasons of politics and morals but want the comfort of fellowship, do not run away like I did. Richard’s father said the new priest at his church (who is a¬†dictator, apparently) is not going to drive him away from his church home. Stand up and speak. You can be the voice for the vocally oppressed. Your church’s constitution allows discrimination of your LGBTQ brothers and sisters and you hate it – stand up and say “I HATE IT!” Though you may not convince the head honchos of your hopes and fears, there may be one or two that will be convinced. There may be that one whose life you save by being strong. That is what I want to be, however, the God that lives in this town shuns folks like me. That will not change until we speak up for each other, support each other, fight for each other and most of all:¬†care for each other.

Love the Lord as He loves you.

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There It Is Then

My admission of being a Humanist shocked him a bit, but after supper Richard finally understood my anger at religion last night (6th April) at supper.

We went to the restaurant in town. Having gone through a horrible day (our black car has been declared a write-off as of 7th April), I had a meltdown whilst eating my scrumptious chicken bacon burger, chips and gravy. I was angry at myself, my car, my former religion and lastly, my former manager who came in to eat in the restaurant with his family. All these things brought honesty to my decision, an approach I had been so afraid to take before – outloud at least.

I do not think my Nativity painting from Kindergarten would not be well liked by the leaders of a children’s church group today. I thought along pratical and realistic lines. If something happend at night, draw it at night. Jesus was born (as I assumed) at night:

image

Upon reflection, this does look more like a Norse god storyboard rather than the Christmas story.

My biggest argument against the Christian faith is its lack of humamness. Greed, sex, gossip and conceit are part of the Atheist world as well as in the Christian line of cars. These, and other human feelings, are just that – human. I want to live the life I have right now and worry about collecting enough love points to get into heaven. Not anymore.

I no longer want to live forever.

I will be getting my dates for helping out with the SSO this week as there are two main concerts left; otherwise, I am on the list for next season. I may also volunteer at the WDM this summer. My goal to give back to the community is being done in a different way. There is also The Station Arts Centre in Rosthern. There is room for a liitle Humanist intervention here, now all I need to do is intervent.

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