I Don't Want Your "Jesus" Anymore :: 'Cause That's Not Him

I am struggling to keep my religion. I have come to a place where I realize that what I have been taught and given as a child is in fact only a religion. It is not Christianity. It is not faith…

And I don’t want it anymore.
I don’t even want to publicly say that I am a Christian. We have become too closely tied to politics, right wing agendas, silly boycotts and drama over cups and “Merry Christmas” and our supposed persecution—as if we could ever possibly understand what being persecuted is. We have made Christianity anti-socialism, anti-liberal, anti-everything that is not white and “good.” We have stripped the bride of her spotless gown and replaced it with an American flag. She is hideous.

I was sitting in my living room the other day. I can’t recall who was sitting in my ugly yellow chair, yet, someone was sitting there and we were speaking of the ridiculousness of gay conversion therapy and how many in Washington want it federally funded. I lost all my chill in that moment. I spat out, “What if it was us? What if it was turned on us and people decided that straight people could and should undergo torturous treatment to make them gay? It is not possible. Nearly everything about the way I am wired and how my hormones interact with my brain and my emotional well being, has made me straight. So, if I came out of this insane process and understood that the only way I would be loved an accepted was to say that it worked—I’m gay now—would I say it worked? Absolutely! And I would continue to live in shame and self-loathing because my loved ones refused to accept me for who and what I am. Who’s fault is it then? Mine? Or there’s?”

I am tired.

I am tired of trying to convince my religious community to STOP! For God’s sake, please stop?! You are destructive. You are stealing joy. You are crushing spirits. You are the reason that many people choose suicide than to walk through your reality.


Dear Lord, please stop.

It’s isn’t just American Christianity’s battle with their views of homosexuality. It is more than that. It is their quick ability to see other religious people as the enemy, even going so far as to demonize them. I once had a pastor at a church I served private message me when he learned I intended to teach my homeschooled children about all religions and customs. I wanted them to understand not only their culture, but the way they worshipped so they would not grow up to think them strange or even scary. But this pastor told me I would be inviting darkness into my home—even went so far as to explain that I could have demonic activity in my home and in my children’s personal thoughts. Because why? Well, obviously, Muslims are evil and live under the influence of Satan himself.



Here’s the thing. I’m done. I quit. I don’t want the fake, pretty things anymore. I want the dirt, and the rough edges. I want the brokenhearted and the homosexuals and the Muslims and the homeless. I want this more than I could ever want a church pew and catchy worship service. I want tears and whispers of “I love you” and “I’m here with you” and “You’re not alone” more than I want claps on beat and hands that are not lifted up before their King that’s “still alive and on His throne.”

I want to be free in Christ. I want to be able to answer “red” when my cousin asks which wine I prefer and not cringe because I just admitted out loud that I drink alcohol. I want to speak what I think and feel and say “piss” is it fits the sentence. I want to tattoo beautiful flowers on my arms because we might one day tarnish God’s beautiful creation with oil and smog and power lines. I want to cry when I see refugees homeless and covered in ash, not be told that they’re potential terrorists that will kill my children in their beds. I want to sit with the woman who aborted her baby for reasons that are personal and all her own, rather than stand on the side of the road with tape over my mouth and signs of condemnation that save NO lives.

And for goodness sakes, this might be the most hard one to admit aloud:

I want to one day pick up my bible and not view it’s words with disgust anymore.

Yes, you read that right.

And it wasn’t what God intended. THIS IS NOT WHAT HE INTENDED…

But it’s what this world and her lovers made His beauty…

Twisted. Empty. Hollow. And a lie.

So, I reject this American religion that ties with politics, money and power.

I quit.

And I will raise my children to reform it, make it new, make it shine and beat with His pulse.

Because I’m still with Jesus…

And Jesus is missing from American churches.

Last week, I posted something similar and a lone man whom I love and respect took it very personally. This is not about you. It is not about them. It is about us. We are all guilty. And we must ALL be the change if we want to make our Father proud.

It is time to grow up. 


I Will Not Unite For Their Sakes

If you’ve known be for a while or even been following me for a short time, I am sure you’ve gathered that I was not a Trump supporter and spoke out against his rhetoric with passion. I got deleted from friends that were only internet neighbors, and friends that I’ve had since I was a child. That was still worth it to me. I mean, it wasn’t that I was intentionally trying to be divisive or hurt the feelings of others, but speaking up for humanity and minorities absolutely felt like the right thing to do.

And then Tuesday happened.

Wednesday, I woke up and cried. I have voted for candidates that hadn’t won before. No big deal. I was one of those evangelicals that honestly believed the hype that Obama was the anti-Christ (Lord, forgive me!!), but I still didn’t cry when Obama won (and now I desperately wish I could go back and vote for him both times!). But Wednesday, I cried. I worried about minorities. I worried about refugees. I worried about the normalization of sexual assault. I worried about the Paris agreement and our climate…

Then I saw my feed littered with Christian friends and church leaders praising the Lord and thanking the Church for doing the right thing by voting for Donald Trump. I got so angry that my knees trembled and vomit truly rose up in my throat. I felt lost and abandoned. I felt so lonely. How could they do this to me? I’ve grown up in the Church. I did what I was supposed to. But at no point, not even a little, did Donald Trump seem or act like a biblical choice for anything that had to do with being president of the United States. I wanted to scream and shout at these people that they had chosen wickedness. They had chosen hate. They had chosen what is divisive, and yet they were telling me that I was divisive. Not only that, but the were stealing the image of my good, good God…and tying His name much too close to a man like Donald Trump (note that I am speaking specifically to church leaders and pastors at the moment).

I cried.

I cried so much.

I have many people in my family that voted for Trump. I love these people dearly. I do not doubt they love God with all their heart. However, I cannot follow them or unite with them under this leadership. I will not. While Trump is in office, I will pray for him. I will ask God to truly soften his heart to the people, especially minorities and the disenfranchised. I will ask God to help him begin to see all of humanity as his brothers and sisters. I will pray for him. I will hope for the best. I will ask God to help Donald Trump surprise me. But I will not unite. I will be a rebel. I will work and toil to take care of those that have been deeply harmed by the wicked rhetoric Donald Trump has spread while running his campaign. I will shut down the bigotry and white supremacy that has grown under his guidance and influence. I will keep busy and volunteer and share as much love and kindness as I can…

But I will not unite.

I will not unite until all people, despite race or religion or sexuality are not afraid. I will not unite until all are included at the table. And I will not unite is a wall begins to be erected.

So be prepared, my friends. Because the Gia before the election is a shadow of the Gia—the lion—that I will become now.

It’s day three of Trump’s America rising up. One day three, violence has surged on both sides. On day three, children are coming home in tears having been called niggers and faggots, hispanic children told they were being kicked out now. On day three, Donald Trump has already taken away signs of his pro-life considerations and decided not to repeal Obamacare. On day three, people are divided…

And the man that fostered that division has been elected the next president of our country.

And so I get to work until everyone is considered.


My love of Coffee Is Unconditional...Like Jesus

There is a popular, fringe clothing maker that I love: Wicked Clothes. They have this shirt that I used to want with a skeleton sitting in a coffee cup that read: Death Before Decaf...

Turns out, that's a possibility for folks like me.

Turns out, I don't much care to be a skeleton in a coffee cup.

As I sat in my doctor's office, he told me that Starbucks made a decaf that was actually very good. "You won't know the difference," he assured me.

Lucky for me, Roger has a second job at Starbucks. That night, he brought me home a pound of Pike's Peak Decaf and a pour over ceramic. And friends, it was heaven. I tasted like coffee. It tasted like Jesus made it for me with His own two hands. It was hot, welcoming, and jitter free.

I am now willing to wager that my decaf coffee is better than the coffee I had before that often left me so jittery that my hands refused to do a thing for me.

So, to all you caffeinated coffee snobs, I am telling you right now, you're pretending. Your love for coffee is fake. You only THINK you love coffee. Because when you can find it within your loving, open heart to embrace the disfranchised, the coffee that suffers so much harsh criticism and judgement, then you are true lover of coffee.

Yeah, that's right.

I said it.

My love for coffee is pure and true.

Coffee and I have faced our struggle and won the battle. We are still one, coffee and I. Forever and always.