Anne Marie Cox has come out as a Christian at The Daily Beast. Her article is heartfelt and I feel some of the same things she expresses. I would just express them differently, because calling myself “Christian” is uncomfortable, wobbly. Please don’t think I’m a whack job. Please don’t think I’m a fundy. A Republican. A close-minded anti-gay anti-somanyotherthings anti anti. Please don’t think I’m as much as a belief bigot as so many atheists. Please don’t think I care if you have butt sex.
I will say I am a child of God. I will say I belong to God. I will say I want to fold myself up and climb inside Jesus and live in his chest. But saying “God loves me” and “Doing God’s will” is repellent. Saying “I should be about the work of heaven” or “I want to live a Christ-centered life” feels good.
I will not say “Jesus is the only way to heaven.” I will not say “My God is the only God.” I will not try to convert you and I will not witness to you. Dear all the little bastard gods I do not want to witness ever again. It makes me sick to my stomach. But I will testify. Well maybe. Maybe not. That may be too close to witnessing. I will not ride my bike down the street and stop at your house so I can pray with you.
But I did have a student once, Jonathan, who had such a prayer experience. Dudes stopped by his house and asked if they could pray with him. And he said sure why not. And they prayed for him, for his well-being, for his courage and his success. And he said it felt really good actually. It was cool actually. But, no. I will not do that. At least, I hope not.
And really, I just want to fall back in the water and let go. And let God pray me. Let God polish me into a most lovely pot. Copper. So I can hang in his kitchen. So he can cook stew in me. And stir me round and round. And make me dizzy. Like lying on the merry-go-round again, spinning spinning spinning oh how I love the Lord.