Don't put shoes on the native's feet

Imagine that, another religion rant. I just felt the need to come right out and say a few things about some of you “Christians”. Now, before you get all crazy on me, hear me out. I’m a Christian. I basically follow my own brand of personal philosophy that helps me get through the day. But here’s the thing, you don’t have to go through the son to get to god. It’s not like he’s not listening anyway. There’s no celestial middleman here, it is the same dude.
Now, here’s my complaint. Yesterday I was minding my own business, selling junk in a yard sale. This was Sunday, and a lot of god fearin’ folk around here go to church. There are about 7 within a rock’s throw from my house. I live in a tiny community and everyone knows everyone else. So, since I just recently moved into town, I have been invited to more than a few of these churches, by some nice folks. Usually the conversation starts with them asking where I go to church, or if I have found a church yet. I usually answer yes, I go to my father’s church when I visit and I also have my own faith. I usually walk away at that point because I let people believe the way they want and I keep my religion to myself. Usually people are respectful of that. Usually. Then we get to people like the following.
Okay, so, back to the yard sale. A white van pulls up, filled with a Cracker family. I mean white bread and grits all the way. The man steps out, long hair, beard, and a suit that’s probably the only one he owns. This is his “Sunday goin’ to chuch suit”. So, he comes over and says, “Hey, we noticed you were here, and wanted to invite you to our church.” Here we go again, I’m thinking. “We’re Baptist, and right up the road is where we worship, you aught to come join us.”
“Well,” I answered, trying to be as polite as possible, “I have my own faith, I’m not really into the whole church thing, sorry.” He looked as if he had been slapped in the face. As if my not going to church was offensive to him and he couldn’t believe it. I wanted to walk away right there, but I was stuck. Currently there was just him and me in a field surrounded by plastic toys, comic books, lamps, and other wares we were selling that day. There was no escape.
“Why don’t you go to church?” he asked, incredulous at the thought. “How can you live without Jesus in your life?” Then he went on this whole spiel about smoking weed all day, getting drunk, beating his cracker wife, yelling at his kids, being a burnout, etc. you know the stories. Ask any “born again” and you’ll here the same sad tale of family problems, drug and alcohol abuse, and being on the street homeless. Now, I’m not trying to minimize this, don’t get me wrong. Sure, everyone has to hit rock bottom, and I understand finding religion is good for folks. My own father had problems before he stopped drinking. But he was Tolerant. He didn’t yell and scream at the top of his lungs to every person he met about the wonders of Jesus and how the man changed his life. And this is the big problem I have with folks like this. They don’t know when to stop. Like Mr. Cracker, who just kept on with his spiel.
“Huh,” I said. “That’s a sad tale. I’m glad the church thing is working for you.” I was trying to end the conversation, but I couldn’t get away from this guy. He just kept on.
“Yeah, I just felt compelled to stop and welcome you to the neighborhood and see if you wanted to come to my church. It’s a great place and people are warm and friendly.” Now, I was starting to get that thing in the back of my brain that makes me turn into an asshole when I’m confronted by people like this. There’s a level of bullshit I’m willing to listen to and take and when you get to that point, my gloves come off and I go for the jugular. I was about to start undoing the straps on my verbal tirade, hoping this guy would take the hint and go away. He just kept on me like a pit bull.
“It’s like I said, I’ve already got a church and it suits me just fine.”
“Where is that?” he asks.
“My church is the world, I feel I can find god anywhere in it. I have my own faith, thanks.”
“Well how do you find god and Jesus without going to a church?” he asked, and that’s when my asshole meter started going into the red.
“I find organized religion unnecessary, actually.” And when I said that, he just looked at me as if I had slapped him.
“Why is that? Religion has helped me a lot. And I think it can help you too.” I was starting to loose my cool, and I don’t know if he could sense it or not, but I tried one last time to be diplomatic.
“While I can understand that religion has saved you, and God showed you the way, and you have found Jesus and gotten off of whatever it was you were on, and I thank you for stopping by, but really I’m not interested.” Fine, cool, calm, and collected. I thought this would be the ending of it. But no, he had to say something else. This Cracker white man “Born again” fuck had to keep on.
“Yes, it has, friend,” he said with a smile of crooked teeth. “And I think Jesus can save you too.” And that was it for me. I had had about all of this guy I could take. And one last time, one final time I said, trying to be diplomatic, “I’ve been saved, thanks; I’m okay in that department. Really, I don’t have time for this chat anymore.”
“Then why don’t you go to church?” he said again. That’s when my asshole meter went into the red all the way full bore. I stopped, took a breath, and went on the following rant at him.
“Because Jesus is a zombie, that’s why. Because the church isn’t good for anything but getting together and gossiping about other people. Because I have better things to do with my time than go make nice with people I really don’t like in the first place. Because I tend to think that all nature is my church, and I feel spiritual wherever I am, not just in an edifice built by man when I can go out in my back yard and be in a garden built by the goddess, mother earth. I’m doing fine without your zombie cult, thank you very much. So please, be on your way, you aren’t getting a convert today, so I guess you’ll have to go somewhere else to find someone who will join your voodoo cult. Thank you and goodbye.”
He stood there as if I had just slapped him in the face. Which I had, but you know the guy had it coming. So, he said, “Fine. It was nice meeting you, and I’ll pray for you.” Then he got back in his car (that was still running, mind you) and drove away in a huff. I couldn’t help but smile as he did. I like to push buttons sometimes, and this guy had buttons all over him. Like I said earlier, I’ve no problem with anyone’s faith. However you find strength and faith is perfect for you and no one else. Keep it to yourself. Where I have a problem is with this type of person, the one who wants to have you join him and won’t stop until you either agree with them or piss them off. I find it hard to understand why this type feels the need to get in your face about religion, as if they found the only true way and path to god. And any other way is wrong, or somehow will lead you to hell.
There’s a saying, the same as the title, which I like to live by. It’s actually simple if you think about it. Before Cracker Whitey came over on the boats, there was a relatively peaceful group of people who lived in this hemisphere that were native to the lands. They had their own personal philosophy, their own gods, and they got along just fine and dandy. Then, Cracker Whitey came in and started trying to convert them to Christianity. They put shoes on the people, and dressed them in modern clothes, and put them in churches as a way to integrate them into society so they would no longer be considered “savages”.
Well, you know what? I kind of like being a savage. I kind of like to believe the way I do. It works for me. I’m happy. I have faith in a spirit that guides me and helps me feel good about my life. I don’t need anything other than that. I get along just fine so I don’t need the shoes, thanks. My moccasins are doing okay by me.
So if you feel the need to stop me on the street and harangue me about going to church, following scripture, finding Jesus or anything like that, you will find my response cold, and unforgiving. I can’t believe that there are people out there who feel it necessary to tell me about how they live their life. I also find it hard to understand, that while the teachings of Jesus are about tolerance, and love, and forgiveness, that these same Zealots are the ones who don’t follow their own god’s tenets. They are probably the most unloving, unforgiving, and intolerant people around. And you know the type because you have been accosted by folks like this before, I’m sure.
Now I know I’m probably going to hell for saying some of the things I said to the guy but here’s the thing. I’m sure he’s praying for my soul, so I should be okay. And, I really don’t believe in the whole, “fire and brimstone, eternal torment in lakes of flame” kind of hell like most people do. The truth is, no one knows. And I’m not going to start worshipping god the way other people do, simply on the chance of the mysterious “What If?” that I hear from some of the “Born agains” who want me to join them in their holy crusade. You want to believe that? Bully for you. Me? I’ll keep my sandals on thanks. There are many paths to God, and my path leads to the natural world, and that church is just fine by me, thank you very much. And here endeth the rant.