As a 15 year old, about to turn 16, I thought I had my life figured out. I was involved with the church (not even reluctantly!), I had a great girlfriend, and everything seemed to be in perfect order. Then, the night before my 16th birthday, by Grandma passed away. This wasn't the Grandma that you had to visit on holidays while delivering a fake smile in fake appreciation for the lovely off white hat she knitted you, this was the grandma that was there for almost every important moment in my life. She was the grandma that was cooking for every holiday, making sure everything went according to plan in order to provide a memorable experience for the entire family. She was the grandma that had only encouraging things to say, but wasn't afraid to correct you in your missteps. She was more than a grandmother to me, she was a best friend.
In Music, we shared a bond. I can remember playing guitar as she played her favorite old songs. Sure, I wasn't that into playing hymnal versions of Greensleeves, but that wasn't the point. The point was that I shared something with my grandmother that the other grandkids didn't. It was something that gve us a special bond. And before I could even say something worthy of a goodbye, she was taken out of my life by cancer. You'll have to excuse my language, but it was bullshit. It wasn't fair. Why her, out of anyone? Why did the kindest lady I had ever known need to be taken from me when things were just getting good? She would never get to see me perform in any honor bands, she would never get to see my play guitar in my own band, she would never see me graduate; never see me go to college on a music scholarship. It tore me apart.
However, I managed to see my way through that trying time through my relationship with the church. My youth pastor, Tim Olson, helped me find a way to see myself through it. I was getting back on track again. Then my girlfriend of just over a year broke up with me out of the blue. Fantastic. Granted, this is not nearly as large of an issue as my grandmother's passing, but come on. Was it really what I needed right at that moment? I was beginning to lose a good amount of faith. I thought God was supposed to have my back or something. The guy is omnipotent and he can't even intervene in my time of need? He was turning out to be a shitty side-kick. However, I still found a way to lean on my church family to find my way through. I convinced myself that there was more to life than romantic relationships, and I was strong enough to get through this as well.
Then the final straw was broken. The one thing that I couldn't afford to have happen, happened. I remember the day my youth pastor came over to talk to me. I found it odd, because he usually never showed up at my place unannounced, but whatever. He probably just had something to talk about in regards to church, or was simply checking up on me as he did consistently. He sat down and told me that the church was firing him. He would no longer be my youth pastor, and would probably be leaving town soon. I couldn't say anything. Nothing could truly express the rage, hurt, and betrayal that was racing through my veins. My mind was clouded with inexplicable pain. The one thing, the only person that was keeping me in check had just been taken away from me by the same foundation that I had been looking up to in my times of need. I had been stabbed in the back. There was no other way to put it, and I still stand by that opinion today. That same night, I drank for the first time. Why wouldn't I? Why should I have been held accountable to an institution that had just kicked the legs out from under me? How could I stay loyal to an organization that hung me out to dry when I needed it most?
That was my excuse for my alcohol and drug use for the past 3 year or so. It was the churches fault. If they hadn't hurt me in such an extreme manner, I wouldn't have delved into any of it. I was sure of it. Now that I'm clean, I realize that I was simply making excuses for myself. I was acting like a child, and there is no way around it. I spent that phase of my life blaming my own discretions on the church, yet I had failed to realize something. I had friends in my youth group that were just as hurt and betrayed by Tim's firing as I was, but they hadn't taken a nose dive into drug use and drinking. They didn't fall off the bandwagon at the first sign of trouble. I can no longer blame the church for my problems; I need to accept the fact that it was my own damned fault for choosing substance abuse as my fall-back option to faith. It wouldn't have killed me to just take a break from the church to catch my breath, get some thinking done. It's not like my only option was to drown the hurt with synthetic relief.
It was extremely selfish of me to decide that without church, I had no one to be held accountable to. How about my parents? They spent years trying to raise me right only to have me spit in their faces time and time again. How about my siblings? Dylan could have gone his entire life without having to see his older brother sitting in an emergency room with his face busted to hell because he ate too many hallucinogens. My younger sister could have used a respectable role model while her older brother was staying in the house. All she got was an irritable son of a bitch that would hardly look at her or speak with her. It now makes me sick to my stomach to think of what my grandmother would think seeing me live like that. She would be disgusted and appalled. She knew so much better of me, and I didn't have the self-respect to see it in myself.
The church hurt me. It really did. However, it's time for me to man up and do something that I should have done years ago: forgive them. When you think about it, the church is only human. It can't help but make mistakes. Yes, they affected my life in a negative way, but I didn't need to give them the assist and take it as far as I did. I could have done what my friends had done: taken solace in the fact that shit happens, and you need to keep your head up and power through it. It's what makes us stronger. Crumpling into a heap of self pity and denial of responsibility just makes you a child. That's what I have been for the past 2-3 years: a child.
So there it is. I forgive the church, and the people in it who hurt me in such a drastic way. My issues with sobriety were not their fault; it isn't like they were forcing drugs and booze down my throat. However, on second thought, that could be a great way to boost attendance. Nothing gets you in the worshipping mood like half a bottle of jack and some good hash.
I must ask... Who was this girlfriend? Lol
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