Dreaded D Word

Yeah, I’ll say it: deconstruction.  I don’t mean with sentences either.

Over the past few years, I have been slowly deconstructing my conservative, Evangelical upbringing and life in the church, highlighted by periods of weird amounts of what I call Jesus zeal and lowlights of authoritarian ideas about God, church, and my very self.  So some days, I feel a little raw about shit.  Other days I breathe in the beautiful air, leap out of bed, ready for my day.  Shame and guilt don’t heap themselves upon me every waking moment any more.

There will be a few posts over the next while, sharing a bit of my story of deconstruction.  Mostly poorly-crafted poetry and some other random musings about the ridiculousness of ’90s church subculture. (Purity pledges, anyone?)

Here’s the first one.

She heard a story once

It was really late

He mumbled something, bravely and timidly at the same time, about maybe not believing any of it

She sat straight up in bed

He still believes THAT, though.  Right?

Sure, he mumbled exasperated, and mostly sleepy.

 

There was no sleep

There were lists of books to make so she could fix everything

The couch was her friend that night

She prayed and pleaded with God to make him believe correctly

Even though she didn’t know that’s what she was asking

She thought she was loving him

But instead it was smothering

 

Pushing things down, down, down

Until you feel better

For a while.

 

Get the prayer journals out

The special couples devotional

Send bible verse text messages

Gotta keep that anxiety under control

 

Oh, the Powerlessness of a Praying Wife

 

 

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