Keeping the faith, or how the church really pissed me off

I was raised in a branch of Christianity that, in my perception, was very foreboding. In it, God and the church were bullies who regularly threatened to take my lunch money if I didn’t do what they said.

I was a good girl as a kid mainly because I was terrified to be bad. I was taught that, if I lied, cheated, stole, sassed my mom or coveted money and fame, I would burn in hell while a menacing red devil fanned the flames on my ass. And don’t get me started on the crushing guilt that came with any minor bad acts. Oy.

From as far back as I can remember, my family went to church every Sunday and participated in all its extracurricular activities. I was in youth group, went to church camp in the summer and attended a private Christian school from first through sixth grade.

I believed in every word of the Bible and did not question any of its more preposterous notions. I remember actually being concerned about the second coming and some of the scarier shit written in the Book of Revelation.

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