How I Lost My Faith . II

My introduction to Jehovah's Witnesses occurred when I was 10 years old, in 5th grade.  In 6th grade, at age 11, I came face-to-face for the first time with with my true identity.

I had a "girlfriend" named Melissa from about 3rd grade to 6th grade, and had in mind the thought of growing up, getting married and having children of my own; only they would be cared for in a way that I'd never experienced myself; the 'cycle of abuse' would be broken with me!  All of that changed one day in 1974 when I saw the inside of the boys' locker room after gym class and one of the students came out of the shower showing off what he had going on "down there."  That image burned into my brain and awakened a part of me that I didn't even know existed; but I knew from that moment on that I was "different."  It wasn't until the following school year, 7th grade, that I learned the feelings I'd been having had a name, "homosexuality," and that such feelings were wrong, unnatural and "abhorrent to Jehovah."  Thus began an identity crisis that would plague me for the next 30 years or so: how can I claim to worship Jehovah God while, at the same time, having homosexual thoughts and feelings for some of my classmates??

I was one of those kids who got picked on and bullied nearly-incessantly from 4th grade until my senior year (it got so bad once in 5th grade that I picked up a chair intending to hit smash it into one of my tormentors' heads; this happened only once more in 7th grade, though I never actually hit anyone—though not for lack of trying, mind you).  Interestingly, though, I was only rarely teased about being homosexual; I was targeted for the simple reason that I had a very short fuse and would inevitably respond to taunts by throwing a temper tantrum.  There was one incident in high school, however, when someone did revile for being homosexual (or, as I was about to find out, "a faggot").  It was one of the most profoundly-devastating moments in my young life.

Right after my introduction to the Witnesses in 5th grade, I met a young Witness named Michael whom I'd seen at the Kingdom Hall one night.  He and I became fast friends, practically inseparable for the next several years.  Sometime around 8th grade, he transferred to a different school in a neighboring town so we rarely saw each other through most of high school. One afternoon, though, while waiting for the school bus, engaged in conversation with Michael's girlfriend-at-the-time, Kathy (who hadn't transfered), Michael came to pick her up, saw me talking with her and stormed up to me screaming, "Get away from my girlfriend, you faggot!"

I remember being utterly speechless and thoroughly confused.  Here was one who I respected above all others—who'd helped me study the Bible during lunch breaks, helped me face religious intolerance and opposition at home and tried to help me overcome the homosexual feelings I'd been struggling with—calling me a "faggot" in front of dozens of classmates!  I was completely humiliated.

That was my first encounter with that level of homophobic bigotry, and it came from one I'd thought was a "brother in Christ," a fellow worshiper of "Jehovah God."  As devastating as that encounter was, it was not the last or the worse that I'd experience from fellow worshipers; the next encounter would be far worse and would expose to me for the first time the horrifying level of bigotry against homosexuals on the part of elders whose role should have been to help me overcome my weakness and build up my faith in God so I'd have the strength to do so.

What happened with the elders at the local Kingdom Hall in 1981 would help change the course of my life forever.

How I Lost My Faith . I

I was a god-loving, god-fearing child who attended Sunday School at a small Baptist church near the elementary school I attended for as far back as I can remember.  I would stand on our picnic table in the middle of our adjacent field and belt out religious and patriotic songs I'd learned in church as loud as I could, not caring one way or another whether the neighbors could hear me.

All that changed one Halloween when I was seven or eight and discovered that the preacher was allowing people to celebrate this "most pagan, Satanic of all all holidays"—inside the church!  I clearly remember being utterly appalled at seeing ghostly hangmen in the cemetery and witches and monsters running amok through the church (I can still see clearly someone dunking for apples and a monster staring through the window).

For the next two or three years I began to read books on evolution, and since my "God" had let me down, it seemed like the second-best source for answers to questions I could not yet fully articulate.

Now, I'd been trick-or-treating every year like most kids up to that point, but it  never struck me as counterintuitive to be preaching about God and angels and Paradise, only to turn around and promote a celebration of His eternal enemies—in His own house, no less!  Even at that age, I felt moral outrage over what I considered to be utter blasphemy.

Two or three years later, at age 10, I was introduced to the teachings of Jehovah's Witnesses and discovered logical, Bible-based answers that made sense to me at the time, such as "it's not my fault that I wet the bed!  I can stop blaming myself!  It's Satan the Devil's fault!" 

I distinctly remember making that statement one day to my godmother after a Bible Study with an elder's wife.  It was the first time I can remember ever feeling free of the guilt and shame that had been growing inside me—virtually from infancy—over my perceived inherent badness or evil.  

I was only ten; it would be another seven years before I would feel that kind of freedom again.

A Conundrum of Mammoth Proportions

For the vast majority of my life, I have prided myself on the neutral stance by which  I've lived regarding politics.  This was due, in very large part, to my firm belief that, as one of Jehovah's Witnesses, my loyalty lie with my god, Jehovah, and His "Kingdom" government.  To take sides in human political affairs was tantamount to treason, as I'd already pledged my allegiance to that heavenly government.

Now, things are not so simple.  I am no longer part of the Watchtower organization and have no personal relationship with a god, regardless of the name used in reference to him.  After learning many, many things about the actual history of this planet and civilizations that have lived and died upon it, I now have extreme difficulty in justifying such belief.

So, with no religious arguments at my disposal, I've chosen to continue my neutral stance, only this time for my own reasons.  I've learned about the powers-that-be that are running this country and this planet, and such knowledge has empowered me to non-involvement based on principle:

I cannot, in good conscience, contribute by my vote to the 

propagation of a thoroughly-corrupt system.

However, I do live in this same system and am directly affected by the decisions of those in power.  

This election cycle—unlike any others in my life of which I am aware—is the most important, pivotal moment in US history, and the repercussions will be felt clear to the country's core for decades to come.  With the exception of the Bush v. Gore race, I've paid more attention to politics this year than at any time in my life, and it has become glaringly apparent that this country is tottering on the edge of chaos.  If Romney gets elected, everyone on welfare and disability, every gay man and woman, every woman faced with life-threatening and life-changing decisions, everyone on the edge—or already over the edge—of poverty: we are all screwed!

I am on disability, and I'm gay, and I'm sustained by Social Security at below the poverty level (a trap from which there is no escape for me)...all of what makes me who I am is anathema to Romney and his ilk.  

Is it possible that, if I don't vote and Romney wins the election, I've essentially put a gun to my head?

Is Obama any better, and would we be better off?  Obama has his dark side, too, as evidenced by his putting into law expanded war powers for the president and continuing practices enacted by George W. Bush.  These things are anathema to me.

Regardless of what I do, the choice, from my point of view, comes down to the "lesser of two evils," and that is definitively Obama.

There's also the matter of local elections, whether for people, laws or amendments.  The closer to home these get, the stronger the need for change.  Those elected in our local communities have a far-more-direct influence on our individual lives than Washington, D.C.-bound elected officials.  By not voting, am I preventing my voice from being heard regarding what I need in my life?  Would my voice have any impact whatsoever, and if not, then what's the point??

There are a number of issues on the ballot this year that directly affect me and my friends, like legalization of medical marijuana and equal rights for the gay community.  I am part of that community; I was part of it when I was a Jehovah's Witness, even though I suppressed it for decades and largely ignored the needs of the gay community at large.

As a Witness, one is discouraged from having opinions about political issues, and one certainly does not express any when among other Witnesses.  But I do have opinions which I readily express in conversations with friends, but have never expressed by political action of any kind.  And there is no longer any other government to which I owe fealty, "heavenly" or otherwise.

I am now faced with a conundrum of mammoth proportions:

Should I stick to my principles of non-interference/non-support of a corrupt system, or ignore them for the sake of my voice and that of my friends and family? 

The jury is still out...

Velikovsky and the Search for myself - Pt I

I have spent at least 40 of my 49 years of life believing what others said I should believe.  My early childhood led me to the belief that I was inherently flawed and would never amount to anything, no matter how hard I tried.  My teenage years were rife with conflict, both within and without, as I began to adopt a Bible-based belief system that was diametrically opposed to the new realization that I liked guys instead of girls.  I was told to believe that such a thing was unnatural and demonic, and would bar me from ever having a relationship with God, "Jehovah," and gaining "everlasting life in Paradise on earth."  I was deeply convinced of that outcome, despite the fact that my being gay at no time felt unnatural to me.  But I believed in the Bible so strongly that I was willing to kill off one whole half of myself in order to conform to what I was told was "The Truth."

In 2005 I began a years-long process in therapy (with Belinda B.) to uncover what was at the root of my addiction problems.  That same year, I was diagnosed with 1) PTSD, 2) OCD tendencies and 3) Bipolar II Disorder.  The latter began, ironically, in 1985...the same year, at age 22, that I revived my association with Jehovah's Witnesses after a four-year hiatus.

As my sessions with Belinda progressed, she spoke more and more about finding one's "personal truth" and that there was no "one truth" to fit all.  I had a tremendous amount of difficulty with that concept, as I'd always been taught that there is, in fact, only one truth, that of the Bible as presented by Jehovah's Witnesses.  My truth was their truth and there was no other.

It wasn't until seven years later, in the summer of 2012, that I finally understood what she'd meant, and this is where the writings of Immanuel Velikovsky enter the picture...

This account is continued and expanded in the series, "How I Lost My Faith".