Today is May 10.
When I was 16, I fell in love with Jesus. I got baptized on May 10 and it was the best day of my life.
Or atleast I convinced myself it was the best day, even though when my Mom and I got home, Dad screamed because Mom bought chicken for dinner before the sunset was over.
(Research about Jews and Sabbath and sunsets if you don’t know what this all means.)
He got angry and grabbed his mug which signifies he was going to drink water before going to bed. And he went upstairs without a word, leaving us with a roasted chicken who was dead enough to say something.
I tried to make the best out of the situation by not letting anything bother me because it was my “best day ever.”
I thought “nothing could take away my joy now.”
I felt loved and rescued. I even cried on the spot while the pastor prayed for me. My kindergarten teacher asked me why I was crying.
I wanted to tell her that I watched porn and was so dirty and disgusted with myself to the point where I convinced myself I have to be splashed in water to be washed clean.
But I just smiled through the tears.
If you only knew.
That night, a guy claiming to be the leader of a youth program messaged me and asked for my number.
I was so excited because I thought he was going to invite me to youth group activities and then I’ll gain some Christian friends.
What happened the next morning horrified me, as he sent multiple texts, inviting me to go to church with him at night. When I said no, he kept pushing further. He told me I was beautiful and he wanted to meet me at school.
I was 16. He was 26.
Every morning I got a text from him.
“I’m going to your school.”
Sometimes this is what he said. Anxiety would feel me and I would go around the campus with my head down and my heart feared what would happen in case he found me.
Eventually, I changed number and it stopped. I also blocked him on Facebook.
Those were some of the memories I got from my baptism. Aside from the relief I felt when I came up for air.
Was it all my imagination? Or was the feeling of relief and cleanliness a true message from God?
Who would have thought, Rachel the nice Christian girl is now a feminist bitch who supports the LGBTQ community and premarital sex? She breaks the Sabbath too and doesn’t care if her food has pork in it.
I haven’t been to church in a year. I wonder how they will react if they knew how I think.
Maybe they will pray for me because I’ve been led astray. Maybe they will be so sad that I’m on my way to hell.
They’d gossip in those voices that scream she’s a pity and we’re better than her.
I think the older men in church will blame my boyfriend for all of this. As if he led me astray, which of course he did not. When I announced my change of beliefs he even asked me if I was sure.
Seven years later, I’m not the nice Christian girl anymore. Or maybe I was never truly nice.
I was just pretending.
I wanted people in church to like me since I don’t fit in the outside world anyway. I might as well try everything I can to fit in, inside the church.
And so I did. Oh, I did.
I earn compliments and praises for my prayers and participation. I earned approving looks for my modest attire every Saturday. They all told me I was different from the rest. I thought I was holier than all the youth combined because I already read the whole Bible and they didn’t.
And I basked in the compliments until I remember I’m not supposed to like this, I’m supposed to be humble. Then begins the cycle of shame, humiliation and constant mantra of “Oh God, I’m so sorry.”
I feel like that was my mantra for years:
“Oh God, I’m so sorry.”
Shame and humiliation. I don’t feel it anymore to the extent where it would drive me to my knees in tears. I feel twinges of it sometimes and out of habit I apologize to God.
But most of the time, I feel like I’ve been set free from all the burden of rules and regulations.
I can now watch porn freely without remorse. Watch movies or clean my room on the Sabbath without guilt. Eat pizza or carbonara pasta topped with ham, without feeling the need to fast after.
I hate to admit it, but the people who told me we were too restrictive were right.
I’ve been fooled, without a choice in the matter.
Seven years ago, I thought officially baptizing into a religion I was raised in, would set me free.
Seven years later, what set me free was letting go of the religion I was raised in.
My chains are gone, I’ve been set free.
Life With Rachel 