First of all, my dear, dear friend, understand that I do, seriously, honestly, deeply, and most of all, profoundly, appreciate your concern - I love you dearly for the compassionate, selfless effort spent in taking the time to convey it. And I love you for the admirably unwavering conviction in your beliefs that you will continue to have long after you have finished witnessing my reluctant, but truthfully respectful, betrayal. I would only pray that you would not hurt much more on my behalf. Forgive such a bold suggestion, but perhaps you should pray for that as well. I'm not worth the pain of such a sweet, caring person such as yourself.
The sad truth is, you could pray to anything at all and interpret the outcome as being an answer of "yes, no or wait." Even if it's money, a jug of milk, a celebrity, or even the gods of other religions, to name a few. And from what I was taught and experienced, that's all that Christianity really is. Praying to something that might have been there, and bending over backwards trying to interpret everything as being some sort of 'yes, no, or wait.' Yet, I persisted. I was as passionate as anyone should be. I poured my heart - my soul - into it. Into God. I obsessed, day and night, for Divine acceptance. For Divine truth. I begged for it in every breath, in every step, in every syllable in every word of every thought, every second of every day, for four years. (Though, even in my honest attempts, I never came close to what could be considered anywhere near "perfect," so don't take that as any sort of bragging. It's not.) And what came in apparent response to my ceaseless begging is something that could only be interpreted as a booming, resounding, irrevocable, God-breathed, “No.”
I was told, like you are telling me now, that Christianity is not a "religion," but a "relationship." I was told, that the Bible, the doctrine of Christianity, is not a mere "book of rules," but rather, a "guide to freedom." I was told, so I acted accordingly. I loved, because surely I had been loved first. I found someone who, in the deepest part of my soul, I believed that God Himself had hand-picked out for me; it was the "yes" that I was so desperately hoping and praying for. My heart just sang for her then, as it does now. But this girl was not a Christian. (Nor is she now.) But in my boundless, God-inspired, unconditional love for her, I saw no reason for intolerance. And before either one of us knew what was happening, the delicate, "loving" façade of Christianity started to... slip.
"You can't do that," they told me. "You cannot love her. She is forbidden." I was taken aback, cozened as I was. A small, spider crack of cynicism shot through my world-view in an instant. I numbly, though politely, asked them why. I should have known better. "It's against the rules," they replied simply. And you know what, my dear friend? They were right. It was written, plainly, in the Second Epistle to the Corinthians. In the sixth chapter; the fourteenth verse. However, a friend once told me that when somebody hands you an ultimatum, they've already given you the answer - and they've lost. So, with a polite, but forced smile on my face, I just refused to follow the "rules." I chose to placate the two loves, instead of suffocating them both. Or rather, attempted, as the case may be.
But, as time went on, the pressure continued. What you so fondly call a 'relationship,' had taken it's toll on me. It's every believer I once called a friend was incessantly trying their damnedest to force my “broken” world-view to see things their way, regardless of emotional or ideological casualty. Because to them, tolerance wasn't an option - love wasn't an option; it was either crush the innocent heart that I was entrusted with, or be condemned with mere words; idle threats of burning hell. Such is life. Though, unlike that “relationship” with God that I had previously obsessed over, this other relationship was an experience of refreshingly satisfying vitality; overwhelming conviction. Compared to such truly free love, my religious beliefs naturally paled in comparison.
When the pressure had built up its crescendo, the one person who introduced me to my divine obsession finally labeled me the harshest condemnation that the world-view holds. To him, I was nothing less than the "Antichrist." Now, I've had a long medical history, but none of the many scars on my body could possibly hold a candle to the one that this had left on my heart. Now, my dearly respected friend, as the two had finally come into a clearly hopeless and irreconcilable conflict, I had to make a choice. I absolutely had to - my attempts to stave off the dichotomy were proving futile. And, no, it wasn't easy. Rest assured, it was far from painless. But in retrospect, it was, at the very least, completely and utterly obvious.
Then, I decided that as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly.
Because the truth is, I can not live like that; not in a lie. I cannot love like that. I will not associate myself with people who wear their religious views on their sleeves to be shown off. People treat their views as if they were chess pieces. Playing on a chessboard where the darkest, black squares fade into vibrant blood-red with no clear distinction on where they begin. Things like "love," are just words. Pawns to be used in their so-called battle for our souls, while real blood is shed and real people die so they can do it. Christians seem to care more about the fact that they are Christians rather than what it means to be one. And they're the ones with the obligation to be Christ-like. So much for that.
I, for one, replaced my obligation to be Christ-like with the will to be. Whether there is a god or not isn't a priority to me. But if there is one, and he is truly a god of love, then I have nothing to worry about. A god of truly infinite love would find it literally impossible to create a place of eternal torment in the full knowledge before-hand that his own creations would be sent there, and why. And then to precariously balance the lives of his 'beloved' creations over the acceptance of epistemologically abstract vagaries, especially something as brutally morbid as Jesus' sacrifice? Apparently, even God is not powerful enough to make everything unquestionably right in the world. Well, such a thing is not "love." Though, in your well-deserved defense, it is certainly poetic - but what mythos isn't?
But this story of Christianity is ultimately masochistic. In divine proportions, no less. But even so, if that god is "love," as you insist, then I'm afraid, my selfless, caring friend, I don't want to "love," at all. So, again, I deeply appreciate the motivation behind your words. I value your opinion, and I admire your optimistic commitment to your faith. But you really shouldn't hurt anymore because of me. As I said before, I'm sadly not worth your pain. I'm... just fine. And finally, I apologize sincerely for such a verbose, pretentious declination of your highest truth, and I hope you understand the reluctance with which I offer it. As you so aptly suggested, I have “given it up.” And I've never felt better.
Respectfully yours,
James Elliott
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