It’s easy to be a big fish in a small pond. Especially if it’s your pond that you created.
I would respect you if you could actually walk the talk. If you’d quit standing behind the pulpit and go actually live what you’re hammering down on everyone else.
It’s so easy to be an armchair quarterback. But where is your business? Where is your successful real-world career? Where is your successful relationships with those who don’t agree with you theologically? More to the point, those who don’t threaten your gig.
I heard it said that those who can’t do are the ones who end up being teachers. Not in all cases. But it’s infinitely convenient to bash people over the head with theory. Where are the real-world results? In the actual real world. Versus your extremely insulated fishbowl.
I’d love to see you be so proud, so arrogant, so indignant with real people in the real world. Versus those drinking your Kool-Aid.
Go be a real businessman. Not just a talking head. Go make some moves on a real playing field. Leveled without the advantage of your position to lord over everyone.
Or is your god not that big? Really.
What if the world isn’t ending? What if you’re just afraid?
What if you’d have to eat so much humble pie that you insist on dying, on going out like this? With your panties held high in such a bunch?
You’re not talking about shit if you don’t live it. Tell me about you and Jesus even yesterday. Can you?
Or are you just virtue signaling? It’s so easy to appear to be on the higher moral ground just by pointing out what you judge everyone to be doing wrong. But what if you had to actually be a good person? To people who don’t agree with you?
Go ahead, run and hide.
Surround yourself with yes men and women you don’t even respect. Who won’t ever challenge you. That’s weak, in my opinion. I don’t respect you for that.
I have no problems disagreeing with you. My issue is with how you treat people. How you treat God’s kids. The condemnation you are so ready to pour out on people. The heavy burdens you are so ready to load them down with.
Be careful speaking for God to Trinity’s kids. Especially to Jesus’ little lambs.
My former youth pastor turned preacher wrote an article the other day about women. I normally don’t read his work because he is firmly entrenched into what I have come out of, but the title teased of the shit show I anticipated so I clicked on it just to confirm. Because who doesn’t look away from a good car crash?
I mean ideally I’d love to be less cynical, but although initially communicative, he also has joined the ranks of self-proclaimed religious authorities who now just ignore my attempts at communication. Since I won’t worship at the altar of their knowledge.
I say this in general terms, with a tad bit of bitterness born out of years of unending disappointed and frustration. Even as I realize God Loves them just as much as God Loves me. And I can’t call anyone a fool. I can’t judge.
But damn, my momma bear instincts are triggered constantly by their subjugation of the people who look up to them. Who are turning to them for direction with God.
Which again, is why I can’t judge them as good or bad. Even if I can choose whether I agree or disagree with what they are saying. Because maybe this is all part of the plan, a plan. To let those who are afraid to approach God directly, find an end in religion. And end that re-turns them to Source and Life.
But in the meantime, I experienced such indignation after reading what he wrote. More so because I know he represents the thoughts of so many. Which is incredibly frustrating. (Albeit my own doing as I would have never gotten so worked up if I’d just leave these people to themselves – exactly where they want to be.)
And the grrrl in me who has worked so hard to find her voice and worth, just spoke up for the hell of it. For me, actually. As I wish someone had spoken up for me when I was subjected to people like this when I was younger.
And so I replied to Hexon’s article by saying:
All I have to say to this is goddammit, Hexon. This makes me want to throw up.
I wish you’d encourage women to hear from God about what Trinity wants specifically and individually for them. It might not fit your formula. Of do you not trust God enough to do that?
You’re living in an echo chamber made worse by your position. It’s gonna take a doozy to shake you out of the spell you are under and profiting from.
All I hear is constant condemnation. There actually is Life out there. And right inside your house. Then there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth if it takes years to go by before you wake up and realize how much you’ve missed.
I have zero hope that my words will land. Or that you will seriously consider them.
After all, God doesn’t speak to single overweight women who aren’t slaving away for men, especially for preachers. God only speaks to married men who aren’t overweight and who stand up to tell everyone else what to do every week. Right?
But for the hell of it, I’ll send this and plant another seed. Speaking for the little lambs. Not against you, believe it or not.
The gates of hell are always open. LIFE more abundantly. Just be careful talking for God, eh? Jesus dearly Loves His kids. All of them.
“All day, every day Therapist, mother, maid, Nymph then a virgin, nurse than a servant, Just an appendage, live to attend him So that he never lifts a finger. Twenty-four seven, baby machine So he can live out his picket fence dreams. It’s not an act of love if you make her. You make me do too much labor”
Well, predictably there was no direct response from Hexon. I imagine I must be yet again relegated by another preacher to the group of “backsliders” deemed so lost that I am no longer considered a child of God worthy of basic human respect or consideration. So be it.
But he did post a shirtless picture of Bruce Lee on his Facebook a few hours later. Captioned: “Have the courage to be disliked.”
I should have foreseen this. Taking the bait and responding to them in anything other than favorable praise means I am now contributing to their “martyrdom”. Really actually encouraging this shit. Which sucks. Not a good chess move on my part possibly in the big picture. And I know better even as good as it felt not to stand idly by as yet another man tells women to get on their knees.
But that’s a never-ending fight as far as I can see in the future. And really not my business in my bigger plan for my life. The best use of my time and energy is more likely investing in my future as proof of my theology.
Because the worst thing for these preachers is to give them an audience. That only perpetuates this shit. If nobody paid attention, they’d have to finally face themselves. And I say this from painful experience. So I feel confident in speaking on it. I am intimately living my own words.
But since I was already in this far, I replied to his Bruce Lee picture with more than I care to rehash here, but specifically included this phrase: “No martyrdom yet for either of us.” Just to let him know that me disagreeing with him, and letting him know, doesn’t mean he is persecuted.
And that’s enough, right?
But something was still bothering me. Something was still left unsaid.
And I’m not going to waste anymore words with people who don’t care what I have to say. Who don’t value my perspective. Who can’t possibly conceptualize that I might be Loved by God enough to have some insight into something that might contradict what they are so married to. Because they see themselves as better than me. More important. Obviously.
And then that was when it hit me. The audacity. To say that my greatest worth is what I can do for a man!
That was the main fucking problem. The gall! For Hexon to tell God that me, Sarah, that my greatest worth is found in service to men?! Oh my fucking God! That is why this shit hit such a nerve with me.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with a woman who wants to do whatever she wants to do for whatever man. As long as no one is being hurt in the process. Specifically speaking in regard to enabling men who hurt people.
But that’s not where a woman’s worth is found. Her worth is found only in her relationship with Whose she is – God’s kid. Her worth is not found in anything else. Not her work, not her kids, and certainly not the gift of her time and energy towards a man in any capacity.
And until you realize this, you will not progress any further. Until you see people how God sees them. As beLoved children, not servants. To be cherished, not condemned.
I am free to do whatever I want to do. Be it collage art, investments banking, world travel… WHATEVER. Even porn or prostitution – which none of you preachers ever partake of, correct?
But what I choose to do has NO bearing on my value or worth! God is well pleased with me either way, any way. Any direction I am turned towards is only for my and our collective benefit and healing. Even enjoyment – you should try it sometime.
If I feel particularly drawn to contribute myself. Or my love, energy, time, heart, spirit, and mind. To some kind of partnership with any man. And I do mean man – not just a male. Then he still has zero authority to expect anything from me. (Unless otherwise legally, contractually agreed upon.)
I am not in service to him. I am another completely equal human being. Just another one of God’s beLoved kids. Just like him. Coming alongside.
My presence and whatever else I decide to bring is a gift. That you are blessed to receive. That you’ll completely miss if you don’t receive accordingly.
And that is devoid of any arrogance. Because believe it or not, when you show up for others you are also a gift too. As long as you’re not lording it over them. Manipulating them. Expecting anything in return other than maybe basic respect.
That’s another problem.
When I give you my time. When I care enough to choose you and your family to spend my limited time with out of all the people on this planet. When I could be literally doing an infinite number of other things with billions of other people.
And as I enter your home and open my heart to you, your wife, your kids. Clearly.
And then you just objectify me. Relegate me as not Sarah. But just a faceless “woman”. Even worse, further distancing your heart from my highest value as God’s kid by further relegating me to boxes such as “single”, “fat”, “homeless”, etc.
Be careful.
I hope God allows you to be humbled by a woman someday. So you’ll see us as we really are.
So you’ll see yourself as you truly are. Only for healing. And your freedom.
Okay, and so I’ll maybe be able to see and feel a little bit of vindication. Selfishly. For all the hundreds of millions of times men like you have stepped on and over me.
There are so many more things to be said on this subject. But I’ll boil it down to this: be careful.
I am posting a lot of my writings. They are in no particular order for now. Most of this is very old and from a long time ago.
She had an older boyfriend. And then her own car. And I was just tagging along. For the company. Even though most of it wasn’t my thing. Like I didn’t care about smoking cigarettes. But I’d go with her to the bowling alley where you could still buy them from a vending machine without getting carded.
And I think that’s where she introduced me to him. And I was immediately attracted. Although I certainly never would have made any outward indication of being so.
But here again somehow I got setup. I don’t even remember how it went down. Certainly no love story.
I remember it being so awkward when we first hung out. I think we both knew. But were trying to at least make the best of it.
But eventually I broke up with Josh. I knew he really wanted to be with my best friend. Not me.
The humiliation. Of my best friend pawning me off on some guy who really wanted her but will settle for me just so he can still be closer to her.
Even though I knew I’d be utterly alone, I still somehow had found the courage to not be desperate enough to stay with him.
But he sat in the row next to me in class. I had to see him every day. Ironically, I don’t remember those feelings ever bothering me even as much as they hurt.
Music I’m listening to, discovered, or rediscovered.
I am posting a lot of my writings. They are in no particular order for now. Most of this is very old and from a long time ago.
This time I was able to get my words out. I told the school counselor that I was the one who set the fires. But I made sure to iterate that I didn’t want to hurt anyone.
There were now other people brought into the room. The school counselor was in front of me and being very nice to me. Asking me to tell her again what I said. And I told her that I had lit the fires the previous two days.
They kept asking me for details. Like they didn’t believe me. I was trying to convince them that it really was me. I had the distinct feeling that they were having a really hard time coming to grips with the fact that me, this quiet honor roll kid, was the one causing all these problems. Versus the “bad kids” at school who were the usual troublemakers.
I had started cutting myself by that time. And I don’t know if she saw it or if I showed it to her as a way of telling her that I was “crazy” enough to light fires, but at some point my sleeve is pulled up and she is looking at cuttings I made on my arms with a razor blade that were still in the healing process.
And I told her that I had also sprayed graffiti on the mirrors and the doors in the bathrooms before. Many times before I set the fires.
More adults started coming in to talk to me. I think the vice principal was one. I don’t know if I ever met her before, but I immediately liked her. She seemed nice. More concerned than angry. And then the main principal came in to speak with me. I was scared of her because she had a commanding energy. But she also seemed like someone who was fair and not taking things personally.
All while this was going on, I really just wanted to talk to my regular counselor. That’s all I was wanting. If I saw her and talked to her then I knew she’d help me know what to do and help me face whatever I needed to face. And fix whatever I could fix. But I didn’t get to talk to her.
But other adults were called instead. And I was taken to a mental hospital in another city. I just remember an adult female saying as we drove towards the mental hospital, “Why are you doing this to me?”
And that was precisely one of the big problems. There was no concern expressed for me or my well-being. It was all about her. Yet again.
Music I’m listening to, discovered, or rediscovered.
I am posting a lot of my writings. They are in no particular order for now. Most of this is very old and from a long time ago.
I don’t know what happened immediately after the announcement. I just know that the next time I woke up, I was in the library. Reading a book from the psychology section. And I wasn’t usually ever this messy, but maybe I was distracted by everything going on, because for some reason I tried to leave the library with the book. And there was some kind of detector that I had to pass through. Where some kind of fob in the book set off an alarm. I panicked.
I don’t know why I was taking the book out of the library when I just could have checked it out of free. I have no idea. Maybe the “rules” said I couldn’t check books out that would be on my record. About things I couldn’t talk about with adults.
Or maybe that book meant something to me. Sometimes when I couldn’t have the comfort I wanted, an object that represented that comfort would mean more to me than just being an object. I would get super attached to the object. Maybe that is what happened. I don’t know.
All I know is I panicked. I think I put down my backpack and tried to walk out of the library without it. Because I was afraid they would search my backpack and find the bottle of gasoline I walked around with.
Yes, gasoline. For a long, long time I had been walking around with a water bottle that would normally be attached to a bike. And I had filled it with gasoline and kept it in my backpack. I never used it because I really didn’t want to hurt anyone. But for some reason I kept it in my backpack for a long time. Again, I think the gasoline represented a feeling for me that I needed to keep close. More than the gasoline itself.
But either way, I was scared of what they would do to me if they found the gasoline. So instead, I left my backpack behind and rushed through the detectors and walked as fast as I could directly to the school counselor’s office. The same school counselor who had taken me to the emergency room when I had attempted suicide before.
Music I’m listening to, discovered, or rediscovered.
Sarah Nyhan 