RE: Hostage to fear
June 17, 2015 at 8:48 pm
(This post was last modified: June 17, 2015 at 8:59 pm by Spacetime.)
You folks are really friendly and warm in your welcome... thank you, sincerely.
I don't know why today... nothing special or out of the ordinary happened that caused me to take this step. I just felt the walls were coming in on me the moment I woke up. Something very similar to the episodic behavior of my manifest PTSD, but this time it was different. Much deeper and more difficult to bear.
Despite being told to take it slow, I had to find comfort in my wife with all of this as it was happening to me. So I brought it up earlier today after making my initial post. I asked my wife if she really believed that Christ raised up from the dead after 72 hours of being clinically dead, with the premise that her answer would have no impact on my feelings about her. I assured her over and over again that her answer couldn't possibly move the sheer mass of my love for her (know this is an idiot statement in that emotion has no mass
). She started to cry, and said "no, not really." Then I asked her if she truly believed that Christ was born of a virgin. She replied, again through tears, "No, because I know that can't happen."
Long story made short, I've been living with another doubting Thomas for the last 11 years and never thought to touch that topic with the person that means the most to me. I didn't make that reference to her because I wanted to be clear that I knew there would be no God-man appearing in the room with wounds similar to those victims of crucifixion suffered to prove us wrong.
After a long period of silence, she said, "I'm going to have to think about this for a while." After I read my original post from this thread to her, she said, "You should know me better than to leave you over something like this." I reassured her that we could keep going to church, keep praying together as a family if that made her happy, etc. But that if that was her choice, that I could at least be openly agnostic with her. She agreed.
... my hope for every man ... is that they find a woman as cool as my main chick (that's white boy slang for "I have no side chicks").
So tonight, for the first time in a long time, we didn't say the Lord's prayer before eating our supper. I asked that everyone sit down and just be thankful that we are so lucky to have something to eat while children around the world... equal in age to my own... were going to bed hungry. That was brave because I wasn't prepared for the long conversation about global markets and food science that would have logically followed the innocent question of, "Dad, who are we thanking?" I think I would have said, "I bought it, Mom preheated it, and together we carefully removed it from the oven so as to avoid painful injury."
I'm thankful [to wife] that it was all around, a good experience. The fear is still maddening, I'm still horrified at the prospect of giving up on trying to have faith (something I am pretty sure you cannot force), however... at least my wife is sympathetic and shares some of my views.
One last point; one week ago, I reached out to probably one of the most learned men in the field of theology in the United States, hoping he would respond so that I could ask him to explain theodicy to me like a 3rd grader. Just 1 hour ago, I got his reply. I hadn't yet asked him to present his argument for his views on theodicy, but he replied and the opportunity is there. Part of me wants to abandon it, and another part of me wants to ask him outright... "Why does our personal God sit idle when children smaller than my own are starving to death? Why, when we know He can, did God not write down the ultimate guide to human understanding? If his insight is so infinite why, then, did he leave us a book that compounds the complexities of the practice of worshiping Him." The latter part of me is screaming, "too late, motherf*cker... if you had it, you would have presented it on YouTube."
Anyway, I feel like I'm learning to walk all over again. I feel like I'm watching the most beautiful part of me disappear in the rear-view mirror. And why am I still scared of hell, despite having every reason to believe that it doesn't exist?
Thanks, guys/gals... srsly.
I don't know why today... nothing special or out of the ordinary happened that caused me to take this step. I just felt the walls were coming in on me the moment I woke up. Something very similar to the episodic behavior of my manifest PTSD, but this time it was different. Much deeper and more difficult to bear.
Despite being told to take it slow, I had to find comfort in my wife with all of this as it was happening to me. So I brought it up earlier today after making my initial post. I asked my wife if she really believed that Christ raised up from the dead after 72 hours of being clinically dead, with the premise that her answer would have no impact on my feelings about her. I assured her over and over again that her answer couldn't possibly move the sheer mass of my love for her (know this is an idiot statement in that emotion has no mass
). She started to cry, and said "no, not really." Then I asked her if she truly believed that Christ was born of a virgin. She replied, again through tears, "No, because I know that can't happen."Long story made short, I've been living with another doubting Thomas for the last 11 years and never thought to touch that topic with the person that means the most to me. I didn't make that reference to her because I wanted to be clear that I knew there would be no God-man appearing in the room with wounds similar to those victims of crucifixion suffered to prove us wrong.
After a long period of silence, she said, "I'm going to have to think about this for a while." After I read my original post from this thread to her, she said, "You should know me better than to leave you over something like this." I reassured her that we could keep going to church, keep praying together as a family if that made her happy, etc. But that if that was her choice, that I could at least be openly agnostic with her. She agreed.
... my hope for every man ... is that they find a woman as cool as my main chick (that's white boy slang for "I have no side chicks").
So tonight, for the first time in a long time, we didn't say the Lord's prayer before eating our supper. I asked that everyone sit down and just be thankful that we are so lucky to have something to eat while children around the world... equal in age to my own... were going to bed hungry. That was brave because I wasn't prepared for the long conversation about global markets and food science that would have logically followed the innocent question of, "Dad, who are we thanking?" I think I would have said, "I bought it, Mom preheated it, and together we carefully removed it from the oven so as to avoid painful injury."
I'm thankful [to wife] that it was all around, a good experience. The fear is still maddening, I'm still horrified at the prospect of giving up on trying to have faith (something I am pretty sure you cannot force), however... at least my wife is sympathetic and shares some of my views.
One last point; one week ago, I reached out to probably one of the most learned men in the field of theology in the United States, hoping he would respond so that I could ask him to explain theodicy to me like a 3rd grader. Just 1 hour ago, I got his reply. I hadn't yet asked him to present his argument for his views on theodicy, but he replied and the opportunity is there. Part of me wants to abandon it, and another part of me wants to ask him outright... "Why does our personal God sit idle when children smaller than my own are starving to death? Why, when we know He can, did God not write down the ultimate guide to human understanding? If his insight is so infinite why, then, did he leave us a book that compounds the complexities of the practice of worshiping Him." The latter part of me is screaming, "too late, motherf*cker... if you had it, you would have presented it on YouTube."
Anyway, I feel like I'm learning to walk all over again. I feel like I'm watching the most beautiful part of me disappear in the rear-view mirror. And why am I still scared of hell, despite having every reason to believe that it doesn't exist?
Thanks, guys/gals... srsly.
