Iron Sharpeneth Iron

  The old testament took place back when they didn't even have steel. In fact, some of the swords mentioned might even have been bronze.  No steel, in a culture of circumcision. (Stewart Francis: "Hey, ladies...I wasn't circumcised; I was circumnavigated!") 
  One verse I really like is "Iron sharpens iron, and one man sharpens another."

  You know what a big problem of mine always is?  I am very hardened.  Maybe was hard to begin with, and got even more hardened, jaded and so on, through my experiences, especially with people operating in groups, and with anything relating to women, and with religion in particular.  So groups of religious women being unkind to me?  I am hardened right up for that.  People say I'm bitter.  I think I'm calloused, hardened, and scarred over.  I think the question to ask is "What about my experience did that to me?" And also "Should you be blaming me for that?"

Smeared With Cake

  So, all through my life, bowls of lime Jello, slices of angel food cake and handfulls of mashed potatoes have decided to take me on.  To tell me what's wrong with me.  To tell me "What YOU need..." and so on.  I feel like an axe blade with cake smeared down it.  When I go into rooms filled with Christians, I almost always feel like an axe about to be attacked by a room full of eggs.  They may hurl themselves at me at any moment.

  Now, just like anyone, I desperately need, on a daily basis, people who can, in modern parlance, 'call me on my shit.'  I need that.  But usually, most people aren't reaching me with any attempts to do that.  So, I can blog and go on Facebook, and share my experiences, frustrations, observations and little stupid epiphanies, but most of the time, I do not get met with something that will sharpen me.  I get complaints that I am sharp or hard, accusations of being a blade of bitterness, complaints that I am not smooth enough when they want to hear smooth things, whining about "why aren't you nice like Jesus was?" and that kind of stuff that, although heart-felt, really isn't doing the trick. It doesn't reach me.  And like anyone else, I need to get reached.  And I'm a very hardened person, like so many others.  I don't need people to decide that my edges ought to beaten out of shape with a big rock.  That doesn't make me whet at all.

  All through my life, people have decided that I am critical, negative, judgmental or whatever, and have decided that the best way to 'reach' me about that, is to do it back.  To criticize, character assassinate, lie and judge me for it.  To be blind to my positive comments, feelings or roles, and dismiss me as mainly harmful. This hasn't reached me. 

Hugs

  Every now and then someone has hugged me instead of argued with me.  I can't deal with that.  They win.  Every now and then someone had done the same thing verbally.  They have said something nice, without a "but" after it, without a Nerf barb in it, to try to poke me with. Just acceptance.  I can't deal with that either.  It's positive, you see.  It's nice. It's love.  Not rejection.  I don't know about that stuff.  I can't deal with it. I have almost zero experience. It reaches me. It challenges me.  Slimy, onslaughts of trite scripture quoting and saccharine, folksy axiom sharing?  Inspiring verses photoshopped onto inspiring pictures of inspiring sunsets, mountains and kittens?  Wholly unmoved.

  And every now and then someone who quite clearly isn't just being mean, who has no obvious antagonistic agenda, gives me some criticism or "negative feedback".  And I have to take that.  Because I know they're not just being mean.  Their view is pointy and refined and unsquishy.  It has been fully formed, it holds together, it stands up, and it won't dry up in a week's time and just smell bad and be crusty. I have to respect it. 

   I need that more than anything, and maybe more than anyone.  I mean, I think I know my own faults.  I am not fond of myself.  I am not optimistic about my chances of succeeding at anything.  I am hope-handicapped and trust-challenged.   I can say "this is what I think, and this is who I am" but I cannot then do anything but prepare to be judged, criticized and ostracized.  I may not be queer, but I'm here, and I'm saying "get used to it" with no hope anyone will, or if they do, knowing we're never going to hang out or anything.  And people will warn people to avoid me.


Montreal

   So when I went to Montreal to face down people I was raised to take terribly seriously, and against my upbringing, was going to try to be funny but fair and insightful about the whole thing, and not flee or cry or anything, nor rip people right up in public, and try to be whimsical rather than horrible on the blog, no matter what I felt, or what my overreaction to past crap was.  Well, I did what I could.  It was hard.

  Several people I know, who weren't there, said supportive stuff.  They 'get' me, and were nice about my blog.  That's nice.  Gives courage.  Makes me feel no longer alone, and not crazy to do what I do.  Doesn't make me need to be a better person or writer or Christian necessarily, but it's important.

  One person deleted her Facebook account and didn't tell me if she was hurt or mad or what.  That upset me, because I worried about her and what went on after I left, but it didn't actually reach me with anything to chew on.  The assumption that I won't listen, and that I always think I'm right, and that I'm incorrigible, so you won't share what you thought with me?  Doesn't reach me.  Isn't hard enough.  Weak, in fact.  (but you can always muster the courage and contact later, once you've gathered yourself.  That makes it just a tactical withdrawal to gather forces, and not cowardice)
  But being soft and warm and gooey is fantastic if you're going to hug me.  Less so when you're trying to attack me.  If you are going to attack me, be firm, controlled, hard, unassailable, quick, but well-grounded.  Do not flail wildly.  With a strand of cooked spaghetti.  And if you are going to hug me, I won't be able to handle that, but to make me feel something like that, you can't be just as hard as I am.  (that sounds bad.  Never mind about that image).  Be soft and warm if you're going to hug.  And don't try to combine the two a lot.  Don't be soft and warm and hug me so you can get the knife between my ribs.  That's been done on many, many occasions.  It's a big part of the reason that hugs freak me out.

What Reaches Me?

  You know what REALLY reached me?  Someone who didn't mind putting his actual name commented on my blog and told me something I could use.  (How cynical do you think it makes me that only people "outside" that system will ever put their names on their criticisms (or support of me?) But a now-outside guy did, even though his dad was a huge player in the 1991 division and most blog readers would know this and may have polarized opinions about it all and might perhaps be dismissive.  And how impressed was I to see that name there? That guy's views on divisions are bound to be more interesting than any of the rest of ours.  And how bad does he make all the other people look?  All the "free" people who are scared to really let anyone know who they are?  Who want me to take faceless criticism (or anonymous hugs) without even owning up to who they are?  And the ones who left our meeting and are all "Free" now, but are terrified anyone might read anything they think or feel, and yet still want me to know that my blog is crucial to their finding what they themselves actually believe, think and feel, deep down?  How seriously am I go to take their protestations of liberty?) 

  Rodney Allan says that Christians think about these church divisions all the time, but not about reconciling to each other.  I thought about that one.  My deal right now is to ignore the church divisions and go meet people anyway.  I've been at that for some time.  I haven't found church people to be good at straying outside those lines, yet, though.  But point taken.  That guy (Rodney Allan) made a good point that made me think.

Strong Words From A Strong Man

  And someone named J put some strong words about being "over" my blog, (go read them if you want his actual wording) and I adjusted my blog to try to show I understood what he'd said.  He felt I missed the good there.  Of course I did.  I'm stupid about good.  Always.  Also, I was so maxed out on "fight or flight or spite" adrenaline, that I couldn't feel what many of them were feeling.  I couldn't feel the high, the buzz, the groupness, the oneness, the acceptance, the mountaintop experience.  I'm sure it is real.  I could see it in people's postures.  They could hardly sit up on their chairs they were so high.  But no, I couldn't feel it at all.  
  I believe J is a dude, and I believe he is a firm, sturdy, brick wall of a man.  I think I know who he is really, but he has never given me that as a fact. (some digging got me an admission, and it wasn't who I thought, nor is he ready to be known, so I'm not telling)  But it's hard enough to reach me and make me think and feel things, and he did it.  I need that so badly.  He didn't slime me and smile and be passive aggressive. He said he was over me and called me racist.  I understood him.  
  Of course, with the psyche I have, I had to read his entry again to remember if he said anything nice.  He did.  He said he liked me, also.  I'm every bit as bad at noticing people saying nice things about me as the "satisfied with the Brethren" readers of this blog are at seeing if I put positive things in it.  I ran his comments through "Gender Guesser" and he came up a solid "male" reading.  I changed my blog slightly.  I doubt enough to please him.  But I was reached.  And I got him to admit who he was.  And he re-read my blog and found he'd missed almost every good or positive thing in it.  Just like I would have done.

M-Pathy

  And someone named M put a comment.  This was the first comment by someone who was there which let me know that maybe I hadn't burned all bridges.  Maybe some people saw some fun and some truth and some worth in what I wrote, had some fun with it, but also (having proven a sense of perspective, and the sense of humour that so often is evidence of that) saw that I missed good stuff.  
  Of course I did.  The old "think of someone besides yourself.  So maybe you were worn out and done for the day, and not ready to listen to Teutonic Peter-bashing, but maybe it was exactly what someone else needed" message I probably needed. (my words. Go read her words to see her own word choice.  I'm imagining she's a her, though Gender Guesser isn't conclusive. It amuses me to do so (imagine this person).  I'm imagining she'd be warm and nice to hug.  But that she'd have some sisterly words about what I might have missed, too.  
  My best guess is her name really starts with an H.  Maybe some of the stuff that didn't do much for me did stuff for other people? Of course. But it didn't do anything for me, so I don't find it in me to care much.  One other person claimed it did something for them, but declined to explain, so I can hardly say or think much about that claim at this point either.

Naked, But Not In A Fun Way

  When I write a blog, I told someone in Facebook chat today, the fact that people can take what is basically me, in text form, all naked and stuff, and poke at it roughly with a critical finger, makes me feel what they might feel when I blog about them. Not the sexiest of nakeds at all. Very clinical.  Like a digital exam, actually.  Takes a lot out of me.  I may sound glib, but I am exposing myself to an unbearable amount of what I've already had too much of in my life.  And I'm not someone who has it in him to hope for acceptance, or to have that acceptance be communicated to me, and me understand it and feel it. 
  So if people at the other end of the blog feel a little violated, I get that. I really do.  I always felt ashamed when I blogged, but also like I was sort of supposed to, not for the sake of people blogged about, certainly (they're fine, as far as I can tell, having a nice warm place to worship God, in out of the cold, unlike so many of us), and not for me, certainly, but for others.
  Because they're out there in droves, and they contact me.  And they get stuff out of it.  They claim to be free, but hide behind anonymity and say things like "yes!" and "Amen!" and "You have no idea how important I think it is for people to read something like this!"  and "you can't know how many good and bad memories this brings back.  I laughed and cried so much" and "you must never let anyone/anything stop you from writing!"  You'd swear one group of people was reading a nasty smear campaign, and another one was reading a manual on how to explore Christian freedom from religious persecution and bondage.  And it's neither, of course.

Retiring From Drop-in Visits?

  That being said, the idea of dropping in on Christian groups and blogging about them amusingly is something I got from this book, which I recommend, if you want to know about how various huge American churches are.  And I think I might be "done" with it.  Probably too soon to say.  I know there are groups of "Mystery Worshippers" who do what Mystery Shoppers do (drop in unannounced to a church, and then fill out an online evaluation form for people to check in a database while churchshopping).  But I'm not really in that for the long haul.  For me it was very personal.
  Since I was put out, every two, then every five years, then even less frequently, I have been dropping in to see if I could connect to anyone at the place that doesn't want me. To see if the local people, who I grew up with, cared.  They do not.  They just really, really don't.  Many are no longer able to even remember who I am, let alone that I needed to be put out one time in the 1990s, and that they did it.  Time to let them all die, and let the dead bury their own dead.  It won't be long now.
  There isn't any hope that I can see in trying to reconnect to locals.  Even the ones who left. Boy did they leave.  In 1991.  Proudly.  Things are SO much better now, they tell me, over beer at Pizza Hut, then when my sister wants a pic, they hide the beer so no one in their terribly new, free, magical Vineyard Freedom Reformed Charismatic church will see evidence that they had a beer one time.  Christian liberty.  Christ died for it.
  But there are always individuals.  Usually it helps if they are fresh faces from "our" group.  Ones not as jaded as I, without the entangled family and assembly histories.  And they just may be able to connect with me without either of us getting hurt, nor us finding it the most pointless, random, boring-seeming thing ever, with time having moved on and us having no reason to connect, and not seeing a glimmer of anything Christian in our reunion. Nothing but fear of reputations being sullied, despite their purported light-years-long ecclesiastical side-step away from the assembly we both grew up knowing.

  For me, job #1 (not Job 1) is seeing if I can connect with any Christians out there at all.  Will anyone forgive me for not going to their church, or having gone to it, not having liked it?  That rules out almost everyone.  They don't seem to forgive that.  But I need people.  'Cause I need to be called on my shit.  By folks who aren't just trying to get a big rock and smash the edges of my discernment blunt and twisted.  And I want to hang out.  Pizza.  Movies.  Guitar.  All of that.  Maybe beer.

Tuesday

  It is Tuesday.  I need to go out to meet some atheists/agnostics in a pub.  It used to be to meet Christians from a specific church that I was meeting there when I went.  But no one really seemed to want to talk about the bible or being a Christian or God or anything very much, near as I could tell, when they used to come.  And they had trouble getting very many people to come.  They mostly just talked about their church being so awesome and exciting, and about dangers like Harry Potter, or about making hard and fast, black and white scriptural judgments on pressing, relevant matters such as polygamy.
  I didn't used to connect very well, or fit in, or behave very well when it was church Christians I was hanging with.  Now that they've all gone home to personally repopulate the earth with Christian human beings unsullied by the creeping evil that is Harry Potter, there is just me and some people who don't really believe in God, talking about being human, and forgiveness, and growth, and living life and trying to make sense of everything.  And it's nicer.
  I'd like to say I can absolutely imagine mixing those two groups together and seeing iron sharpen iron, but I absolutely can't.  I'd like to say I met Christians with sharp, keen minds, who can have uncondescending conversations with atheists and actually demonstrate the ability to see the worth in the atheists' arguments, the nobility in their struggle to Figure Things Out, to grant points where it's only fair to grant them, and to agree with them on all kinds of things.  I'd like to say that.