FAITH is defined in the following manner:

1. complete trust or confidence in someone or something:”this restores one’s faith in politicians”

2. strong belief in God or in the doctrines of a religion, based on spiritual apprehension rather than proof

I’ve wanted to write about faith and my brush with religion for so many years. Discussions about religious beliefs can at times become heated, or misunderstood. I’ve not held off writing about it because of that. My reasons are more my own. My own life experiences with the idea of faith as I’ve listed them above. Having faith in another human is problematic for me. Having faith that there is a higher being opens up Pandora’s box. I fully believe that anyone should be allowed to practice what fits their life. They should also be free to follow it. I don’t judge anyone for their beliefs. I do however judge based on their actions.

I have shared enough about my experiences with my boss from my past life. We all know he was a pretty horrible person. For anyone that hasn’t read or followed along, I crossed paths with a man as a tween. He was a large scale drug dealer. He found his way into my life because of his friendship with my father. He took the time to groom me and mold me into a heartless voyeur. I was trained to pay close attention to other humans in order to exploit their weaknesses. I’ve covered this extensively in my blogs and I’m still working on a book to tell the full, unedited story.

Being in this world, I learned quickly never trust. Once again, it was a trained behavior. At every turn I was told that I was to “trust no one.” In the world of darkness, there can be no trust, no faith. I learned to walk alone, in the darkness and question everything, and everyone. The only one I wasn’t allowed to question was the boss. I must put my full faith, and trust into this person. For they are the only one that can see me through this world. That…is what I was made to believe.

As for the religious part of this. This same man sold drugs and harmed people. He looked upon females as a commodity. Yet, he wore a cross on his chest daily. I often wondered to myself what kind of relationship he had with God. What was it that he was seeking and how did he justify his actions? He sent his kids to faith based schools, sent them to classes at a local church to study the Bible. Even at my young age, I had questions about all of this. I was too scared to ever ask him directly, but I carried this with me. Why were these children allowed to do such things, yet I’m made to run packages of drugs around the city? Was I not a good person? Did God feel that it was alright for me to suffer while others flourished?

My parents were not seriously religious people. They did take us to church on occasions. My older sisters attended classes at church to be confirmed. (In the West, the term Confirmation suggests that this sacrament both confirms and strengthens baptismal grace). When I reached the age to go to these classes, I already had my doubts. I wasn’t excited about going, but remained the good son and went as instructed. Once in class, I found that the separation of classes was ever present. I was still the poor kid from the wrong side of the tracks. I sat among kids that came from mostly upper class neighborhoods. You could say that I stood out of the pack, but not in a good way. I didn’t have the best clothes, and had already learned from my boss to remain silent. I watched and learned the order in the room. I found out quickly that the minister’s son was in charge of things. (unofficially) He pushed other kids around, talked down to everyone and bullied his way to the top. My thoughts were to just do my time and hope to not be seen. Blend into the furniture. It didn’t go that way for long. I became this boy’s prime target. I “smelled” like an Eastsider. I looked poor, and because I didn’t speak, became his favorite person to go after when no adults were around. The day finally came around where I’d reached a breaking point. We sat in a combination chair/desk in this church room. The minister had left the room and I could just feel this kid’s stare. I knew what was coming. He started in with his usual derogatory comments. On this day, he took it a step further and made a reference about my mother. Something snapped. Before I knew it, I had stood up, grabbed my chair up off the floor and hit him with it. I knocked him flat to the ground and his head started to bleed. His screams brought the minister back into the room where things just became worse. I was the evil that had harmed the lamb of God. The minister used biblical terminology to belittle me until my parents could be contacted.

Once my parents arrived. The story was presented by the minister as I stood silent. My father looked at me and said “is that what happened?” I just shook my head and said, no. I was removed from the church and asked to never return. I was further told that I needed to “pray for my soul and for forgiveness.” When I got into the vehicle with my parents it was a quiet ride home. Once we arrived home, my father took me aside and asked again, “is that the way things really happened?” I told him exactly what happened and why I resorted to violence. My father was proud of me. He was proud because I would always tell him the truth. He also believed that handling things with violence was an acceptable practice. His words were always “there’s nothing to talk about when someone comes at you, just hit them.” I followed my orders.

That evening was one of turmoil inside of me. What was God going to think of me? Why were others allowed to pick on me, or abuse me and yet nothing happened to them? I didn’t take the words from the minister and pray for my soul that night. I began to question faith as a whole. If this was a “man of God” why did he act in such a way. Why didn’t he want to know my side of the story? I questioned why we were so poor and why did my family suffer so much. If you’re good, and follow the laws of God, why do you still suffer so? Then I went back to thinking of my boss. He was one of the meanest humans I knew. Did he fear for his soul? Did he pray each night for all the many sins he committed regularly? It’s safe to say that for a large part of my life I believed in nothing. Nothing more than what I could see, feel and hear directly. An all knowing being of good would never allow such things to go on, would they?

There was the moment that I’ve shared on here before. When I had gone to bed one evening and woke up the next day feeling everything. It was as if my internal emotions were turned on for the very first time. I felt empathy and sympathy. I felt regret for things that I’d done over the years. I woke to this plethora of emotions that literally overwhelmed me. I wanted to step away from the life I’d been living and walk the straight and narrow. I was thinking things that I’d never entertained before. I was feeling things that I’d previously viewed as weakness. This was the first moment in my life that I felt there was a power greater than me.

I still to this day struggle to even walk into a church. I look upon them with dark feelings. I don’t feel the need to congregate with people that I know will judge me. I’ve never felt the closeness that some speak of, or the love that they feel. I even tried to return to church as an adult and complete classes to be confirmed. I was met with the same ugliness I’d experienced as a child. While I was open to trying, it just never seemed to work out. My take was this. I’m a study of humans and I know for fact that humans are very flawed. They go to these places of worship in order to find shelter of some kind. While in these buildings, they remain the flawed, sometimes terrible humans that they’ve always been. They really can’t help themselves. I too went trying to find “God.” What I learned is that God was not in those buildings. I never needed that. I never learned to be a good person from listening to a minister speak. If anything, I learned that there are many broken people in these houses. It’s better for me to stay away altogether.

I found my higher power in places like the park. I found light and love on the roads while running. I’ve had numerous talks with my higher power on so many occasions. Walking, running, sitting in a dark room. As a child, I spent numerous nights praying for protection. Begging for forgiveness for all the things that I was made to do. Hoping that somewhere, someone was hearing me. Most times struggling to sleep and wondering if my words were ever heard. I’ve watched people suffer with illnesses that I felt should never have suffered. From when I was a young boy, I have always wondered why some horrible people are allowed to survive. They stay alive to an old age while some of the best suffer and die so young.

My take on faith is this. For me to have faith in another, I need time. Time to assess who and what they are. I base how I feel about a person on their actions in this world. I could care less that you go to church each and every week. I’ve discovered I often feel more comfortable with others who have endured similar hardships. As for my faith in God…I think you could say that my relationship is unique. I don’t feel the need to wear a cross around my neck. I don’t need to perform any rituals. I just want to be the best person I can on this earth for as long as I’m here. I want to see to it that others don’t suffer in the same fashion that I did. When I was at my most vulnerable. When I needed someone or something to believe in, I was let down. I was cast aside.

I’d like to believe that the man that I’ve grown into is one that never forgets his past. I learned from all of the darkness and stepped forward to make better. Not just for myself, but for anyone around me. When someone looks to me for help, or guidance, I’ll be there. I won’t judge, I won’t shame them. That’s what I was looking for as a child. I want to be the hero of my own story, and maybe for someone else’s. If I can do that, perhaps God will shine his light upon me some day. Until then, I’ll continue on my journey. Seeker of the light.

Thank you for following along on my journey.

~Robert~