My Testimony

I'm not sure exactly when this was written, but I think it was the fall of 1996 so I just picked September 1 as a good date to file it.)

Mad at God!

I used to be really angry at Christians. And is it any wonder? They followed a God who was mean, vindictive and would smite you for any little thing you did. He demanded more obedience than I could give. I felt that God was disgusted with humanity. When I lived in Berkeley, California (1990-1992) I used to go over to the university and listen to people taunt the Christian speakers on the plaza. I would involve myself in this as much as I could. One reason I wanted to learn about the Bible was to use it as "ammo" against them. Over a period of about eight years God softened my heart and brought people into my life who showed me Christian love. By the time I took my second undergraduate course at University I wanted to learn about it for the sake of knowledge, not as ammo.

I practiced Wicca for 4-5 years, beginning in about 1991. I was dedicated to the Pagan path that same year by the coven I belonged to, and in 1992 was initiated as a Witch. I also went to many public rituals, and began to make a name for myself by writing articles for Pagan magazines such as Green Egg, Circle Network News, and Hole in the Stone.

The Beginning of the Beginning

In 1995 I began reading my Bible again--going through the New Testament. It didn't seem to do anything at the time except fill some gap. I didn't know why I wanted to read it; I just knew I had an interest in it for some reason.

Salvation begins with God, of course, but He often uses people to accomplish His will. In that sense the beginning of the beginning was with Jim, a liberal Christian I had met on the Internet. In January of 1996 he went through some difficult times and asked me to pray for him. I began by praying to the goddess whom I worshipped at the time, but then thought that I should pray to his God. After all, his problem should be brought before his God.

I remember how humbly and apologetically I approached his God that day. I told Him I wasn't asking anything for myself, that indeed I wouldn't expect anything if I did ask. Then I presented my request for Jim. But I did end up asking for something for myself, and it turned out to be one of the most important things I have ever prayed for. I can't tell you why I did it and even now I'm not sure of the reason, but on two occasions after my prayer for Jim, I tacked on a request for myself: "God, please help me to get to know You." At the time I thought the prayer so important that I promptly forgot about it.

Life continued on as always. But God hears sincere prayers, and He heard that one. He had always worked behind the scenes, but after my prayer he began to work openly. Things began happening, slowly at first. The next milestone on my journey toward God was just over a month away, at the end of February.

Enter Charles

A month after those prayers I met Charles, a Canadian, on the Internet. He became invaluable to me over the next few months. He helped to answer my questions and concerns. I believe he was truly sent from God because the timing was too perfect.

Charles and I met when I was cruising the soc.religion.christian newsgroup. One day I posted this question: "In one hundred words or less, why are you a Christian instead of something else? Why do you believe? Please, no sermons. I've had quite enough. I just want to know why you believe what you do. Thank you."

As you might imagine, I got quite a few responses, some of them very long (I guess they didn't read the part about no sermons?), and some much more respectful of the length. Charles tried to be respectful, keeping his to 150 words. He gave me a clear, concise answer, but that wasn't what caused me to write him back. What caused that was a single line at the end of his e-mail, looking more like an afterthought than anything else, but still an honest question. "Out of curiosity, why are you a Pagan?" he asked. And I replied, and we just kept writing.

God Shows Up

A month after this, at the end of March, I went to a small Christian music concert held in the gymnasium at St. Mary's College in Moraga. It cost only $5 and was really nothing spectacular. Jesse Manibusan was opening for Margaret Becker. I have always loved Christian music and I wanted to buy a tape from Jesse (it couldn't be bought in a store.) That's one reason I went. But at the concert something happened that I will remember for the rest of my life. There I was, minding my own business, enjoying Jesse's music, when I became aware of this incredibly loving Presence that filled the room. After being taught a God that was mean, angry, and spiteful, this Presence of pure LOVE startled me. There was no way to reconcile it with what I had learned. I hated God, ran from Him. I had spent the last several years of my life doing that. Still, He came after me. While I am sure that the Presence was there because of the music and the love of the people, and not for me, there is no doubt in my mind that I was led there. It took me completely off guard, and when I got home that night and found myself alone in my room with my thoughts, I began to think about it, and I knew some things would have to change.

It set me off on a month-long search for this God. During this time many small coincidences occurred, too many and too small to chronicle here, but more than enough to convince me that this God was real, powerful, and that He loved me. It is a scary thing to be chased by God, but exciting, too. You know you're safe and in good hands, but when you're currently worshiping other gods, you don't know which hands are the good ones anymore.

Let me just tell here a couple of the strange things that happened as God reached out for me. Days after the concert, with God very much on my mind, I was listening to a secular lite rock music station on my Walkman when the song "Right Here Waiting" came on. The chorus goes like this: "Wherever you go, whatever you do, I will be right here waiting for you. Whatever it takes, or how my heart breaks, I will be right here waiting for you." I felt God calling me through that song. It was Him singing to me, asking me to come to Him.

The following day I was listening to my Walkman again when I heard the beginning of a commercial. I couldn't tell you what they were selling, but these two sentences leapt out at my ears, "Are you listening? Do you hear it?" That's all I remember, but it was enough to get me to think of God. After all, how does one not listen to God?

A few days later, another song on the radio. The chorus went like this: "I loved you, you didn't feel the same. Though we're apart, you're in my heart. Give me one more chance to make it real." In those words I felt God asking me to seek Him one more time before throwing Him away. I felt Him tell me to stop running and just give in. Trust.

There is one other thing I wish to mention before moving on: two dreams I had, one just before I was saved, and one after. The differences in their tone is worth noting. First, some background and a clarification. The Satanist in the story below is just that—a Satanist. Satanism should not be confused with Wicca, as Wiccans do not worship Satan, and in fact, do not even believe in him. It is impossible to consciously worship something you do not believe in. Most Wiccans I knew (and still know) are wonderful, law-abiding folks who simply disagree with me in some key theological areas. They are not Satanists, and should not be confused with them. However, as a Christian I do feel that because Wicca does not acknowledge the God of the Bible, it is wrong and therefore evil, though Wiccans themselves are not conscious of this.

Ok, now on to the background of the dreams. I was attending college at the time, and in one of my classes was a Satanist, Jay. (I learned his name when we ended up having a few classes together over time and I would occasionally make small talk with him before class.) He was a nice guy, never acted untoward to me, but he freaked me out anyway. He missed a lot classes between the beginning of the year and the midterm, but after the midterm he began to show up more frequently, and instead of sitting in his usual place in the back, moved forward in the desks until, just after my conversion, he was sitting with me in the front row, just a few seats away. Even though he had never done anything to hurt me, his mere presence became a symbol of evil in my life.

Toward the end of April, about a week before my conversion, I had a dream. I had been thinking about God so much that my mind, overwhelmed with all that was happening, put my fears into symbolic form.

I'm walking toward my college campus and it's night. A van pulls up and the Satanist guy from my class is driving. Suddenly, in the way dreams just "move," I find myself in the passenger seat of the van. There is no invitation on his part, and no acceptance on mine. I'm just suddenly there.

I ask him to let me out at the next block, but he just keeps driving, and soon we are away from the campus area. I crawl behind the front seats to the back of the van, but then I realize that no matter where I go, I'm still in the van with him. I realize I need to get out. I crawl back up front. I tell him that I'm a "white-light, fluffybunny" type Wiccan and this seems to turn him off.

But the scariest part of the dreams was when I asked him, "What do you want?" I will never forget his reply: "To get to know you better." I know it was only my own fears, that evil and good were duking it out over my soul, but it shook me up a bit. It took me an hour to get back to sleep, after I had written everything down.

About two weeks after my conversion, I had a second dream, markedly different in its mood. I'm working in the cafeteria (I worked part-time in the cafeteria at my college). I'm just starting my break and am in line at the taco bar to get some food. On the other side of the bar is Jay, also getting some food. He asks me if I would like to go to the movies with him and I tell him no. Right at that point, out of nowhere, a man who I took to be another student, speaks up and tells Jay to lay off me. Jay asks me if he is my boyfriend and I tell him no, wondering myself who he is. Jay and my mysterious "rescuer" exchange a couple more sentences that I don't catch. At the end, Jay tells the newcomer "You'd better be careful," and then he goes to sit down to eat. The new guy just sort of disappears. I couldn't tell you what happened to him. I go to a table away from Jay to eat my food.

Charles said that he thought my "mysterious rescuer" was him because he was praying for me, basically "standing in the gap," and that this sort of thing did not make Satan happy. Perhaps on a subconscious level I knew this and hence had the dream.

Visions and Prayers

There were many times over the month of April that I prayed to Jehovah, asking Him to help me. Toward the end of the month I reached the point where I told Him that, though I wasn't willing to follow Him, I was willing to become willing. Another time, about a week later, I asked Him to help me to love Him.

I prayed that I would get to know Him and learn about Him. I prayed that He would show me the way He wanted me to go, walk with me down it, and tell me what to do to serve Him. Often I "felt" Him listening and knew I was heard.

I knew that if I was going to get to know this God that I would have to learn to trust Him. And so I used a technique I'd learned as a Wiccan.

I visualized myself on one side of a doorway with the Goddess standing near me. Jesus stood on the other side of the open door. I remember saying to Him, "Give me one good reason I should follow You?" His response stopped me in my tracks: "Because I love you." Jesus kept reaching out for me, telling me to take His hand. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't do it.

And then, one night in mid- to late April, it happened. I closed my eyes to do the visualization, and I could take His hand! I knew that He wanted me to step through the door as well, that stepping through the door was a sign of real trust, but it was a few more days until I was able to do that.

Once I had done that, I knew I was crossing a line, a line of trusting God, maybe only a little, but more than in years. He was patiently working with me, knowing that I could never ask Jesus into my heart if there wasn't at least some trust there, however small.

April of 1996 was the most difficult month for me with coincidences abounding. I felt God reaching out for me, and yet I kept shrinking back. Due to my interest in Christianity I was currently attending a class in Christian history at my college. The teacher believed in the hands-on approach, and one of our assignments was to go to some services and write a report. We had to attend Orthodox Lenten and Easter services, and a Catholic Easter service. So there I was, struggling with God very hard, and having to attend all these services. Don't tell me God doesn't have a sense of humor!

Acceptance

Finally, on May 3, 1996 at about 6:45 p.m., I called Charles and had him pray with me, and gave my life to Christ. But it wasn't during the prayer that I felt it. It was when I said, "I want Jesus in my heart" that I felt it. I had accepted Him. I was Christian. Me, the Witch, a Christian! Ironically, this was four years to the day of my dedication to the Pagan path--to the very day.

Later I discovered that Charles had had a strong feeling for half that day that he should pray for me, and that at the time of my phone call he had been, off and on, for about six hours.

Riding the Fence

Of course, I didn't stop my Wiccan activities right away. Soon after my conversion I attended a large Pagan festival in Northern California. I felt it may be my last Pagan "fling", so I went even though I knew God didn't want me to.

However, I didn't count on Him showing up.

Within a day and a half of arriving I was very confused. I realized later that going there was like walking into a spiritual battle without armor on, like Paul writes of in Ephesians 6. As a new Christian I was a target of the enemy, and here I was willingly walking onto the enemy's ground with no protection! I was so confused that I called Charles (all the way in Canada!) on a pay phone. He told me to talk to God. I said I didn't know if God would listen to me because I was being so bad. He assured me that God would hear. I agreed to think about it. Two or three hours later I went out behind the Meadow Building, sat under the oak tree, and began speaking to God out loud, not a prayer really, just talking. But He heard and He came.

I hadn't spoken two sentences when I sensed this Presence under the tree with me. As at the concert, it took me off guard. Unlike the concert, this was a completely personal experience. He was there for me, because I had called Him. I expected Him to be angry with me for doing something I knew He didn't want me to do, but He wasn't. Now I know that He meets each of us where we are and gives us exactly what we need. I needed understanding and compassion at that point, not judgment, and that's what He gave me.

But His presence made me angry. I didn't know what to say, and I wasn't going to repent. He was being too loving by coming to the festival, coming after me, so I told Him to go away. He refused, remaining near. I repeated the command. He still didn't move. Finally I had to get up and walk away. If He wouldn't leave, I would. He remained close for the rest of the festival, reminding me that He was there just waiting for me to call on Him, to come back. Needless to say, all this made a big impression on me. Later, an acquaintance of mine, Bruce, the man who later baptized me, told me He didn't go away because I had invited Him into my life when I gave myself to Him. He wasn't about to leave me alone.

Choosing Sides

I was baptized at the end of the summer, but not without having to first choose sides. Two days before it was to happen, Bruce discovered that I had not yet renounced Paganism. He told me he wouldn't baptize me unless I did. It was hard for him to tell me this, and hard for me to hear it, but it needed to be said. I am glad he put Christ and the Gospel before the comfort of either of us. He helped me to understand how important baptism is: How could I undergo a death and rebirth initiation ritual unless I really was dying to my old life? How could I be raised to new life in Christ if I was still holding onto and practicing the old ways?

I mention my baptism because it was an important turning point. I call it my "Joshua moment" because, like Israel with Joshua, I was being given a choice of whom to worship. I made the same choice they did, a conscious decision to worship only Jehovah. Giving my life to Him on May 3 was only the beginning, as I had not given up worshiping other gods. He worked with me and on me, patiently walking me to this decision point.

Results

Much has changed in my life since I accepted Christ. I have a sense of peace I never had before. Somehow this God puts to rest all the doubts that the Goddess never could. Even when I run from Him I know He still loves me and that someday I will be with Him in heaven. He answers the questions about this life, and the life to come. He tells me everything will be okay, and that He'll never abandon or forsake me. He shows justice tempered with love, which is mercy.

Directly after my conversion my relationship with my boss improved dramatically. Where once he threatened to "let me go" because of my bad attitude, he no longer spoke of this, and became downright friendly. My co-workers also mentioned how happy I seemed all the time. (Dancing with my mop as I clean the floor is not depressed behavior.) Other people have noticed that I complain less. I also worry less. I had a bad attitude and was irritable. The Goddess was not very helpful when I wanted to change these self-destructive behaviors. I was, in fact, unable to change no matter how hard I tried. With God, I didn't have to try. It just happened. The peace and joy He gives really is beyond all understanding, and one's attitude cannot help but change when bathed in this love.

Some people will tell you that Christianity and Wicca can be blended, that you don't have to give up one to practice the other. This is untrue. I tried to blend the two, but at every step the Holy Spirit told me I had to choose (Joshua 24:15).

I've naturally begun to re-evaluate who the Goddess is. I've noticed that there have been times when I was in life-and-death situations and called out to her, only to get no response. One situation occurred in January, 1996 when I was hit by a motorcycle as I crossed the street. In my pain and fear I called out to her. I received silence. She promised she'd never forsake me. She lied.

Conclusion

We worship a wonderful God! Who else than the God of the Bible, the only true God, Jehovah, could take an initiated Witch worshiping other gods and bring her to the Gospel light? What other God would bother? I deserved justice, and justice dictated that I continue to live, and eventually die, in the dark. But God, in order to show His mercy and magnify His glory, stooped down to me even though I had persecuted Him and blasphemed the very glory I should have worshipped.

I used to worship other gods; now I worship the one true God. Under Joshua's leadership, the Israelites were given a choice of whom to worship: "Choose for yourselves today whom you will serve" (Joshua 24:15). Joshua then told them who he would worship: "As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord" (24:15). And the Israelites chose the same: "Far be it from us that we should forsake the Lord to serve other gods" (24:16). Like Joshua and the Israelites, I too have chosen to follow the Lord, and Him alone.

This story doesn't have an end, as no story about one's life ends until that life comes to an end. I hope this helps or enlightens you in some way. May God bless you richly as you search for and walk with Him.

Church Search, Week 16

Week 16: St. Francis' Episcopal Church (4th visit)

I've pretty much stopped church-shopping, as can be seen from my church choices the last few weeks. I'm just so tired of it. I've visited 9 or 10 churches. Isn't that enough?

Leaving Wicca further behind

Sunday afternoon I spent the time going through various Pagan things and getting rid of them: I cut my tarot cards in half, threw out my dried flower crowns from Beltane, ripped up all the pages from my Book of Shadows that I've written on (and threw out the rest of the book that hadn't been written in), buried my cords from Mystery Circle, my initiation, and my measure, and burned my dedication and initiation papers. Busy, busy, busy, huh? But after my baptism Saturday, these things had to be done.

A couple further comments regarding the breaking of the bottle {at my baptism}. First, right after I broke it I remained squatting there at least a full five seconds, letting the enormity of what I had done come over me. What had I just done? Why did I break this bottle, this symbol of my Wiccan initiation?

Second, I went looking for it later. I asked Bruce where he'd thrown it out. I had to see it. Knowing it was broken, hearing it break, wasn't enough. Bruce seemed to understand.

Got dunked!

Getting dunked {on Saturday} was pretty cool. I liked being baptized. "Spirit," Bruce said, "I baptize you in the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit." And I held my nose, went under, and came up.

Originally Bruce said I would be baptized between 1 and 4, but we got the morning part of the meeting done early, so Bruce proposed we do the baptism before lunch. It was about 20 minutes to 12 when we sat down in the living room and he introduced me and my story. Then I told my conversion story, and explained about the bottle. Bruce said he wanted to do the bottle-breaking first - death before new life.

Then everyone gathered out by the pool, and Bruce and I changed clothes. We went poolside. I showed everyone the bottle before placing it in a paper bag, and that in a Hefty plastic bag. I squeezed some of the air out, found the bottle by feel, and tapped it with the hammer a couple times so I wouldn't miss when I hit it for real. Tap, tap, smash. A good hit. The bottle broke. The wine bottle from my initiation was no more.

Then Bruce said a prayer over me. He mentioned something about being released from any vows I had taken, and coming against any demonic influence. He said more, but that's all I can remember.

After the prayer, we went into the pool. He told me to hold my nose. He said the invocation and dunked me. As I came up people applauded, and again as I climbed out of the pool. I had given Amber my camera and she took pictures of me, as I took pictures of Joanne at her baptism in the Merced River.

Then I changed clothes into my swimming apparel - a t-shirt and shorts. (My baptism clothing was the pink dress my sister had handmade for me.) Pretty soon lunch was served, then everyone played volleyball, lounged in the sun, or just hung out.

I was the first to break this by going into the pool - by the diving board. Pretty soon others joined in. Amber made a joke about going off the diving board of grace into the swimming pool of eternal salvation.

Somehow Bruce started teaching me how to dive, and I did okay. I was doing things that actually resembled dives, and a few were what I might classify as "pretty good" - clean entry and such. I practiced for quite a while and eventually stopped holding my nose, diving in with both arms in front of me.

Too soon it was dinner time. Then we had our evening meeting where we talked about the details of student outreach, I was being handed fliers just like everyone else, and participating in the discussion like everyone else. I was being expected to get involved, and I was talking as if I was going to. Somewhere in the midst of all this it hit me: I was one of them! I am an accepted part of this group. I belong to InterVarsity. I belong. It was a revelation. The walls that had been slowly dissolving suddenly fell away. I was no longer on the outside looking in. I was in.

poem: Cleansing Waters

Cleansing Waters

How could I have thought He wouldn't ask for more,
Us in the boat as He rows from the shore?
The land now recedes, midnight becomes noon,
Dark becomes light, the sun takes the moon.

Crosses and stars, other symbols so grand,
Water and fire, sunlight on the land.
Sun becomes Son, and the moon, El Shaddai,
Symbols are real, and symbols don't lie.

The hammer that nailed is now the hammer that breaks
The past from the future, erasing mistakes.
The shattering hurts, breaking the past,
But Father, Son, Spirit--these things will last.


(A poem about my baptism.)

Leaving the Circle, take 2

I had a good long time to chat with H. in the car between Walnut Creek BART and his home, as I had talked with R. quite a bit on the phone earlier.

When we got there they started working on dinner. As I talked with R. her first reaction was anger. Getting past that was saddness. She was afraid of losing me as a friend and "sister." I comforted her in the kitchen as she got weepy-eyed, and we hugged a long hug before I left. The three of us talked a long time as dinner was cooked and eaten. They finally gave me a handwritten leave of absense certificate, near as I can tell the first of its kind.

H. drove the car as R. and I sat in the back seat and talked more. I think we left the house around 11. By the time I got BART over to the City it was about a quarter after 12. I took the 38 to Van Ness and knew I'd have a long wait for the 90 Owl. BY sometime after one the bus still hadn't come. I don't know when it did come, but I think I got home about 10 minutes to 2.

I'm still kind of tired today.

Bruce said something regarding my experience under the oak tree at AW. I had told him how God wouldn't go away after I told Him to. Bruce said that he wouldn't go away because (since I was a Christian) I had invited Him into my life. If I wasn't Christian, Bruce said, He would have gone away.

Talking about Baptism, take 2

Bruce picked me up at 12 for our pre-baptism meeting. We went to his house and he proceded to ask questions and I proceded to spill my guts to him about the last 5 months or so of my life. We had lunch and talked. Some thing that I said about Paganism and rituals and the fun I have must have prompted him to ask this question: am I planning on going to any more rituals? The implication here is if I'm going to completely forsake Paganism - no Pagan activities. I said I didn't know. There must have been something about the question or the wau that he asked it that told me it had a lot to do with my baptism. My answer was not the right one to get his approval, but it was honest. What it boils down to, he said, was that unless I was ready to completely forgo all Pagan activities he wouldn't baptize me.

I was hurt. But I could see his point. He said he had been so willing to baptize me before because he thought I was willing for forswear it. He said he'd give me some time to think it over and if I could say I was willing to give it all up by Saturday morning, he would baptize me. He said to call him tomorrow regarding the meeting I had with H. and R. tonight to let him know how it went.

I was ready to give it all up right there - painful, yes, but I want to be baptized. And pride enters the oicture. I have already told everyone it would happen. If I backed out now I'd lose face. I told him I would give him his answer tomorrow when I called him about H. and R. We left about 3 and he dropped me off at a 29 bus stop to head home. I went home. Then I cried for a while about all I was being asked to give up before getting myself together and leaving for the meeting with H. and R.

Church Search, Week 15

Week 15: Vineyard (3rd visit)

This is a really intense spiritual place. They lay heavy emphasis on prayer, intercessory and otherwise. Walking in there really brings out issues for me, and it feels like there's a real battle going on - it intensifies the spiritual battles in my own life. After 2 weeks of Vineyard I'm ready to go back to St. Francis' quiet liturgy.

Talking about Baptism

I had called Bruce (with IV) a day or two ago, and last night he returned the call. Unfortunately it was during the movie {I rented "Jesus Christ Superstar"} and the volume was so high I didn't know until after. I called him about 11.

The reason I had called him was to discuss baptism, so we discussed it last night. He said IV was having a party at his parents' house on the 24th and they had a pool. Would it be okay if I was dunked in the pool? I said sure. I asked Carlos yesterday for that day off, and he said he'd take me off the schedule, so I should be able to go. Wow! Eight days off. {I think I mean eight days until the baptism.}

Baptism will mean much more than what I know it symbolizes. It will be a beginning yes, but an ending, too. Just as my Wiccan initiation was the outward sign of something that had already happened, so will this be. In a very real way, I gave up my initiation at my conversion. But I wasn't willing to let go of it then. Now I am. Baptism will be the end of my initiation. I also, therefore, need to find some symbolic way of getting rid of the empty bottle of red wine that was used at my initiation. I would prefer to do it by breaking, but this probably won't be possible at the peoples' house. That bottle has been a symbol in my life for 3 years. I've had it 'on display" whenever possible during that time.

Church Search, Week 14

Week 14: Vineyard Christian Fellowship

Pretty cool. During the service when they said anyone desiring prayer could come up after the service, I felt like I should go, but couldn't imagine myself actually doing it. But at the end of the service, they said something like it, phrasing it differently or something. I saw Lila get up and walk to the front. I decided to follow, and walked up front. A couple people with a prayer team prayer for me. So it happened anyway, even though I couldn't imagine it.

We (Lila, America, and a woman's I've never met before) arrived really late, missing most of worship. But we caught the last couple songs. I could feel myself wanting to raise my hands. (It's very common at Vineyard so I don't have to feel weird.) I did raise my hands a little, first my left and then my right.

Last night there was a massive power outage at about 3:50 or 3:55 p.m. (It was spotted over 9 states, and even parts of Canada and Mexico.) I had just gone down to the bakery to get the dirty dishes and bring them upstairs. I was in the elevator, just me and the dishes. I hit the emergency stop switch to take a couple second breather. (I was having a bad day and was in a rotten mood.) At the exact moment I did that, the power completely failed. The light in the elevator went out and there I was in complete darkness between two floors. Flipping the switch between stop and run did nothing. I was trapped.

Looking up and down I could see a little light, but inside the elevator I could see nothing. The darkness was scary. I called out...

{The entry leaves off here and does not resume.}

Leaving the Circle

Talked to R. last night. We had a long talk. I told her I needed to talk to her and H., but it needed to be done face to face. She managed to guess it had to do with me leaving the circle. I told her I wanted to speak with them about going inactive. It hurt her, as I knew it would, but I'm in the untenable situation of having to hurt these people I care for. We need to set up a time for the three of us to sit down and talk. R. asked if I would still be friends with her and H.; I said of course. They are my friends, regardless of what religion I am.

Church Search, Week 13

Week 13: Cornerstone

Protestant church. Similar worship style to Vineyard, with slightly lower energy. Smaller congregation. The worship seemed shorter than at Vineyard and some of it was done sitting instead of the higher energy of standing that is found at Vineyard. I came here because I met a woman named Marga on the bus one day when I was headed to a Bible Study, I think one at Mike's house. I like Vineyard better.

Telling Dad I'm Christian

When Dad was here visiting on Thursday we got some time alone and had a long talk. I told him everything about the last few months along religious lines, and how I became a Christian. I told him about the concert, the dreams I had - everything I could remember. He was very understanding. Then he said something that took me completely off guard. He said, "You give Christianity a good name."

A couple more comments: today is my three month anniversary of becoming Christian. Kinda cool, huh? Second, and related, I was going through the old notes between Charles and me. I found a note from June 3rd that said I had just started working as a dishwasher and things were find, but that it might just be the novelty of it all. The note said that if I were still doing my job without complaining in two months, then I might believe that God had really changed something. Well guess what? Today marks two months exactly! Don't you love coincidences? And I'm still plugging along doing the job. Maybe God really has touched my life.

Church Search, Week 12

(July 28) - Week 12 - St. Francis' Episcopal (my third visit)

I really like St. Francis' so I went back this week. I am narrowing the search down. I still have to check out Cornerstone and St. Dominic's Catholic.

St. Francis used pink wine and pita bread for the Eucharist. They have some pageantry but not a lot. The people make up for it.

poem: Full Moon

[About wanting to go back to Paganism.]

Full Moon
Tonight, they gather.
In mountains and valleys, cities and hamlets.
In groves and living rooms and bedrooms,
In groups and couples and alone,
In cloaks and street clothes and no clothes.
Meditating and dancing,
Accepting and weaving,
Planting and reaping,
They gather.

Tonight, they gather.
I can see it so clearly,
As clearly as sunlight on the land.
I long,
But may not join them.
The moon rises,
It's light causes me to cry out for the known,
A shelter from all else,
A bastion against an unknown God Who would
Not remain such.

Yet I know they gather,
Yes, they gather,
Tonight, they gather.

No!
My blood boils,
I want to go home.
These people are mine,
Yet this new God cries out, calls me.
In His longing I sense Love,
A Love that wants return.
I cannot go to my people.

Church Search, Week 11

Week 11: Episcopal Church of the Incarnation

I came to this church a few weeks ago, but I came back this time for 10 a.m. services. (I went to 8 a.m. last time, but you can't get a flavor for the music, people, and energy level until you go to the later service.) This is one of on;y two churches that has followed up my visit with anything. (After my last visit, I received a short note.)

The Eucharist was pita bread and red wine. I thought pita bread worked well because it has a slight bitter flavor to it.

Church Search, Week 10

Week 10: Episcopal Church of the Advent of Christ the King

Very Catholic, complete with incense and everything. The communion wafers looked Catholic, too. We sang a hymn that someone had written new words to old music. It was Beethoven's "Ode to Joy."

I know the Holy Spirit exists because I have seen Him at work in my life. Words like peace and joy are hard to define and find in my life, but my reaction to the demands at work underwent a sudden and dramatic change, at least partly unconscious. What I have tried to learn and do for years - to "just do it" - became a sudden, wonderful reality. I had tried to do it on my own for years and failed. It was only the Holy Spirit who did this for me. I only hope the change is permanent.

Moving away from Wicca

Talked to Eleanor on the phone tonight and got my first real confirmation that there have been positive changes in my life over the past months. She gave a concrete example - complaining. She said that normally I would have complained to her endlessly about having to get up at 5 a.m., but that when we were out looking at the room last Sunday night I didn't complain. And she's right. I didn't. I did just state matter-of-factly that it had to be done. This is the first time really that someone has said I've changed. It felt really good to get outside confirmation because sometimes I can't see the forest for the trees.

At work tonight I was working with the Chinese guy I only work with once a week. He was being negative, complaining about work that Jerry or Tylor told him to do that he thought was not our job. (I later found out most of it is our job.) I told him it's our job. Later I was talking to Tylor to find out what he wanted done. He wanted the floor spot mopped for scuff marks and the cardboard taken down for recycling. It was slow so I left the Chinese guy in the dishroom and went to do these jobs. The funny thing is, something like this - Tylor telling me to do unexpected work, even if it was a slow night - would have really upset me. But it didn't phase me at all. I just stood there and said okay and accepted it. This is not like me. What is happening? Also, on the Chinese guy tonight I saw a mirror of myself, how I used to be. What is going on that I have not been like that lately?

Found out today I'm not supposed to have my Walkman at work. The Chinese guy got yelled at by Jerry for having his yesterday. I managed to sneak mine around him all day. Being able to listen made work a lot easier.

I took off my pentagram today, but it wasn't my choice. Just before work today, my pentagram and cross necklace chain broke. I decided to repair it when I got home. I wrapped it in tissue paper before leaving for home. When I got home it was hopelessly tangles. I spent quite a bit of time untangling it. In the middle, frustrated, I told God that if I got it untangles I wouldn't put the pentagram back on. So when I got it untangled and fixed the break, I left the pentagram off. The cross I'm still wearing. I paid good money for it and it was the cross I bought the day after I became a Christian. So I am wearing two crosses and no pentagrams. I think I will still carry the pentagram in my pocket, though. I only said I wouldn't put it back on the chain.

I also took down the little Brigid wall altar I had. This was more out of sheer joy and thankfulness for the good changes God has wrought in me. I keep wondering, "What if I change back? What if these changes aren't permanent?", but this is me questioning in my human weakness and/or demons. These questions are not from God. No doubt between the wall altar and the necklace this will put me under pressure. The enemy doesn't like it when I take steps toward God. Even praying seems to bring ramifications. This is more than praying. It's just that as I see God working in my life I have to give Him more because He's giving me more. He's trying to work me to the point of giving Him 100%. That's still a ways off. He's been getting maybe 80% so far.

Church Search, Week 9

Week 9: Vineyard Christian Fellowship

It hit me during church today why I had never sensed the Holy Spirit in a church service before, and felt Him as the concert (besides that, I haven't been to church in a long time {up until 3 months ago}). It's that in churches I was always closed to the Holy Spirit. At the concert I didn't put any walls up. I didn't think of it really as a worship service, so I didn't feel the need to wall myself off. And by remaining open/being open to the music, I left a space to feel God's presence.

Church Search, Week 8

Week 8: Episcopal Church of the Incarnation - 8 a.m.; Saint Francis' - 10 a.m.

I'll have to go back to the Church of the Incarnation for 10 a.m. services. There were only about 10 people and it was very low energy. Someone at St. Francis' recommended the Episcopal Church of the Advent as being high in ritual. I might check that place out.

Well, I found out today I have to work Friday night so I can't go to taize with Paul. (Sigh.) Maybe next month - or year.

IV is tonight. I sure don't feel like praising God, but it's the right thing to do, right? Most of our time is spent watching the movie anyway. That'll be okay.

Meeting with the Pastor

Talked to the pastor at the Baptist church today (the one across the street from the UUs). He was pretty understanding when I talked about how I can't commit to God 100%. He gave a couple practical suggestions. First, that I should start in the NT with Matthew and read 5-10 chapters a day (because I have time since it's summer). He also recommended their discipleship program, where I would meet with someone for one hour once a week for study and prayer. They took my name, address, and phone and said someone would be in contact within a week. The whole meeting lasted, give or take, about 45 minutes. Oh, the discipleship program is 12 weeks long.

It was nice to talk with the pastor, but I have to keep my church searching to myself. I don't feel drawn to join their church. I feel drawn to St. Mary's Catholic Church, and I really like the Episcopals - all the Catholic ritual without the communion restrictions and some of the dogma. Yet I'm continually drawn to St. Mary's and I don't know why.

I also talked to the pastor today about the two dreams I had, about the concert, and a little about my Paganism. It was good that he wasn't condemning of me.

Gifts from God, Gifts from Them

Both Wicca and Christianity have something to offer me. On Friday at the Intervarsity going-away dinner for the Peterson's, I made contact with Melissa and had a good chat with her. On Sunday at NROOGD someone left behind a bottle of good wine {as in, a perfectly good bottle of wine, not an expensive bottle} and no one claimed it after the "potluck." It was also unopened. As one of the last people to leave I snagged it. Then I got drunk that night. So I was given something by both. God gave me a gift, and the gods gave me a gift. And I was only a teeny bit hungover - and a bath cleared most of that.

Knowing Too Much

I used to say that "I know too much to ever be a Christian again." This is precisely what is making faith right now a difficult proposition. As a wannabe scholar I know too much. I can't take the Bible literally, and much of what must be taken on faith is, well, hard to believe: the virgin birth, the resurrection.

Church Search, Week 7

Week 7: St. Francis' Episcopal Church
St. Mary's for 7:30 a.m. services

This church was much more ritualized that St. Peter's. It was also larger, with real pews. (St. Peter's has been meeting in a "basement" room as their sanctuary was damaged in the '89 quake. So they have chairs rather than pews.) Anyway, when they were going through the motions of the Eucharist, I noticed all the way from my pew that they were using pita bread! I've seen so many different things used for communion - crackers, english muffins, "Catholic" wafers, and now pita bread.

They also had the Book of Common Prayer available for use in the pews, alongside the hymnals. Oh, and the service included reciting the Nicene Creed, which I was able to follow and declaim as it's in the Prayer Books. I don't think I've ever said it before (possibly at Catholic Easter, but I think not), and I don't think I've seen any of the Episcopal churches I've been to use it. It was a nice surprise to see it here. A real plus.

Communion went well. Everyone goes up front and kneels near and in front of the altar (at a "handrail"/railing). Everyone got a bit of pita bread, and a sip of wine from the cup. It seemed to be a blush or white wine.

They also had a kneeler of a sort; rectangular boxes with (insufficient) padding and covered with reddish velvet.

This church was high on ritual and very Catholic-y. I mostly liked it.

After seeing the different between this church and St. Peter's last week, I"m beginning to realize the good points to church shopping. Mostly, I'm seeing lots of different Christian denominations, and within the Episcopal tradition, I'm seeing different ways of practicing the same tradition. In a way, it's all very exciting and is a learning experience most people never get. This is God's gift to me in my church search. I also get to meet lots of people and talk with them, which is two edged. They're all really cool people to meeting and talk to, but most of them I will never see again. But at least I finally am seeing something good come out of this search.

Yesterday was NROOGD's Summer Solstice in Live Oak Park. It was okay, but really short. I met B. in West Oakland and we went together. We got there a little late. They had already started the meeting dance. It was a small crowd. E. (from AW) and her hubby (?) D. were there. It was not the best of experiences and certainly didn't help my Christian faith any.

My faith is doing a little better today. St. Mary's this morning prepared me for St. Francis' Eucharist. So I got to take communion which is good, because I was wondering if I should with my faith so low.

Listening to Sandi Patti's Le Voyage take as a Christian is a slightly different experience than as a Pagan. The songs also take on a different meaning as my life changes - the words still apply, but in other ways. The song Home Will find You used to give me hope about coming to SF. Now I can see it as a song about finding a church home. And with Long Look I can see that I got my long look when I moved here. That look ended March 30th with the concert; God showed me what lay ahead, then pushed me back down the hill toward that. In No Place To Lay My Head I can see how I have no place - no church home, and I'll be moving soon. I got my long look. Now I'm on the move again.

Consequences

America invited me on Thursday to a Christian thing on Friday. (It was a farewell dinner for Mike and Cindy Peterson.) I don't really know them, but I figured the dinner was a good opportunity to meet people. I had to skip the Gardnerian Solstice to go to this, since they did theirs one day late, yesterday. But I talked extensively there with a woman named Melissa, and if God wills we'll get together and talk sometime.

While God will not abandon me, He will let me suffer the consequences of my actions of such things as going to AW. When my faith ebbs due to Pagan events and contacts, He will let me experience the consequences to teach me that I shouldn't do it.

My faith it at a very low ebb right now and my interest in Wicca increases in direct proportion to my faith ebbing. I won't give up on Jehovah that easily because He's put effort toward me, but I can't deny a strong pull back. I could feel when I prayed last night that God won't give up on me because I'm still involved in Wicca, but He will let me suffer the consequences of Wiccan involvement. It is that that I am suffering now. To rescue me so easily and restore my faith would be to encourage me to go to rituals - God will rescue me so it doesn't matter what I do. So I must suffer this.

Wine can bring out reason. What has this God given me but hurt? Why should my only reason for following Him - love - be enough? He claims He's the answer, but He's not enough. Yet He gives me nothing else and expects me to follow Him?

Church Search, Week 6

I never would have begun looking into liturgical traditions (like Catholic and Episcopal) if I hadn't had the assignment in my Christian History class to go to a Catholic Easter service. Additionally, meeting Paul must have had an effect. So now I am looking at liturgical traditions.

Week 6: St. Peter's Episcopal Church

They had the communion wafers like I've seen at the Catholic Church. We dipped them in the wine and then ate them. I thought about Jesus' sacrifice for me. I don't like the "dipping," though is worked great this week because I'm still sick and couldn't drink for the cup. Some people drank from the cup (before the rest of us gathered for the "dipping" communion). I don't know if that just for the clergy and choir, or if it's for anyone who doesn't mind drinking from the communal cup.

Ancient Ways, Day 5

The main ritual last night (put on by NROOGD) was great! A wonderful ritual with one of the best post-ritual highs I've ever been on. So high. How am I supposed to leave this all behind to follow Jehovah? He asks too much. The festival, the ritual, the people, the energy. I'm just beginning to get known in the community. How can I leave it all behind?

Ancient Ways, Day 4

Had my picture taken today with D., G., and R. of Hole in the Stone. (They're here all the way from Denver.) I first met them Wednesday (?) and one of them told me they really liked my Coming Home article. She also said that my Pagan Standard Time article will appear in the next (Summer) issue.

Talking with someone in the kitchen area today they were talking about Jehovah and other gods. They were saying that Jehovah was just one god, one who wanted all power, and no power for any other god. How can I leave the Goddess behind? She's real. She loves me. How can I worship a God that would not let me worship Her? She doesn't care if I worship others, but He does. He's not being very fair.

Whatever your philosophy, Christian or not, I'm a walking target, especially at this gathering. The orthodox Christian viewpoint would say that as a new Christian, walking into a Pagan gathering is just asking for trouble from demons that would have me remain Pagan and keep me from the One True God. The non-Christian who still believes in demons who simply want to prevent us from growing spiritually would say that I am therefore a walking target as I try to take the next step. Either way, I'm a walking target.

Everything here makes me question whether I'm Christian or not, and whether I even want to be. The Goddess and God are real. How can I deny Them to follow a God that would deny Them? How can a God that would usurp all power for Himself be a good God? How can I worship and love That? So am I a Christian now? Where do my loyalties lie?

Tried talking with God down by the river. I know He heard at least part of what I said. I came to the center of the problem I think. Between being here and the conversation with the person in the kitchen area earlier today, I have lost my faith. I will need God's help to come back to Him. I can't do it alone. I told Him that. I asked Him to draw close, to be with me. He denied me this. I think He's angry. I don't like worshipping such an angry God. I told Him that I can't worship or love Him right now. I have lost my faith. The conversation in the kitchen made it so I can't go back to Him on my own. I have lost my faith. When I asked Him to help me, the only impression I received was to read the Bible. Whatever happens, if God is going to come get me I will have to be an active participant.

Psalm 88:18
Psalm 35:3
2 Corinthians 12:9
2 Corinthians 12:10

Ancient Ways, Day 3

I am also dealing with feelings of guilt and betrayal toward the Pagan community. How can I just leave? Not only am I starting to get better known, which strokes my ego, and there is so much work to do, and all my friends are in this community and they are good people, but how could any loving God send all these fine people to hell? How could any loving God send all non-Christians to hell? No. That kind of God is unacceptable.

Why do I not do the right thing and go back and reconcile with Him (assuming I ignored the above issues)? Because I want to have some fun and don't care if it's at the expense of taking advantage of His love. I want to be in circle; I want to do ritual; I want to worship in the old ways I know. And if He doesn't like it? Tough shit. He loves me; He'll take me back, if I choose to go back. Right now it's a choice of my will. I want to have fun. The old ways are fun. I want the old ways. Besides, it's a feeling of power to tell God to go away, to turn your back and walk away, to snub God.

Now to entertain for just a moment that Jehovah is the one true God and that all the Pagans here are being deceived. If that were true, then walking in here as a Christian, especially wearing my cross, and cross and pentacle, necklaces would instantly make me a target of the spiritual opposition. Also, their work would be very easy in this atmosphere. The mere fact of being surrounded by so many Pagans does all the hard work - effects that I was able to fight off in the city. Of course, all the spirits would do all they could to "unsave" me. Spiritually, I would be a major target.

Last night on the phone Charles said not to worry - once saved, always saved. I don't know what he means by this.

Through it all I can feel God out there just waiting for me to come back. I know if I called on Him to come back into my life and be taken back by Him, that He would be there. I just know it. He's...sad that I've gone away. But He knows I have no intention of coming back right now. I intend to steer clear of Him for the rest of the Festival. If I talk to Him it will only be to get mad.

Charles was right about how He'll listen. I was afraid last night He wouldn't listen if I talked to Him, but He did. And after, instead of the feeling of Him being so far, He felt nearer. It was a maddening, loving kind of nearness so I told Him to get lost. When He didn't, I walked away, for all the good that did. Even today, He seems (to me) nearer and less angry than He seemed before our talk. Why, I can't say. It's not a real close nearness, but He's not far off, and He's waiting.

I told someone regarding what's going on that I know what I should be doing, am not doing it, and am going to have a good time not doing it. R.G. asked, "What should you be doing?" Just then I overheard something outside talking to someone else - "Going home." I thought it was funny after Charles' advice last night to leave.

I did something this evening that I don't remember ever doing before - I left a ritual while it was still going on. It was CAW {Church of All Worlds}, and they had just invoked the deities, six of them. They started with Lilith - bad enough for me - and progressed through Pan, Aphrodite, Bacchus, and one other I can't remember (no problem with any of these). Then the clincher - they invoked Jesus! Not only that, but (of course) they played down the guilt and shame stuff they say he preached, and played up the love. If that wasn't enough, they spoke of the scene where he turned over the money changers in the temple saying that he was a "tax rebel." Mark 12:13 and Luke 20:20-16 are two places where Jesus clearly says that people should pay taxes. It's the story of the coin with Caesar's picture on it. "Give to Caesar what is Caesar's. Give to God what is God's." Calling Jesus a tax rebel, for me, crossed the line over into heresy. They invoke Jesus at a Pagan ritual, then completely misrepresent Him. I picked up my belongings, cut a doorway, and split.

After I left the ritual, I ended up talking to J. (of hospitality) for a good three hours. Talking with him oddly made me feel better. I know now that I came to Ancient Ways to say good-bye, to experience it all once more before turning to Him. I will go to the main ritual tomorrow, but it will not be out of rebellion against God; it will be doing the old, familiar, fun things one last time. My rebellion ended tonight. I'm willing to go back to Him, if He will take me, but first I have to finish the Festival. I'm sure He's not even happy about the form (going to rituals) of my good-bye, so I will not begin formal prayers again until the Festival is over. I'm tired now, but perhaps I will speak with Him tomorrow.

Ancient Ways, Day 2

First complete day.

There is more to what is going on than mere dissonance. I only wish it were that simple. What is happening is so obvious that I can't believe it never occurred to me that it would happen - being among all these Pagans, back at this Festival, is bringing back so many memories. Memories of the happiness at festivals past; memories of experiences of the Goddess and God being real - memories that battle it out with the "concert experience." Just being around all these Pagan people. The whole atmosphere of the place - no one thing in particular - is weakening and undermining my Christian faith. I've been feeling separated from the Christian God. I know He doesn't approve of me being here, and that He doesn't want me to go to any rituals. (I haven't been to any yet, but I know He wants me to worship Him alone.) So I didn't pray to Him last night knowing He was mad at me and afraid He wouldn't listen.

So I called Charles (using my phone card) from a pay phone here at Harbin a bit past 10 tonight. He helped me to see the issue more clearly, and talking to him also helped me to define better where I'm coming from. It is an issue of will, and I plan to stay firmly in control for now. He advised I catch the first bus home, even though he knew I probably wouldn't do it, which I won't. He also advised that I talk to God about it. I said I was afraid that since He was mad at me, He would not listen to me. He said God always listens. I told him that I knew what I should do, and that I was abusing God's love and disobeying Him, but that I wasn't going to do it. I was going to the circles. I am going to go to the circles. I am staying in control. And oh what a feeling of power that is! Never mind the emptiness or loneliness of the feeling of being separated from God.

So skip ahead in time to 2-3 hours later. I sit by the oak tree meeting place behind the Meadow Building, one of the few places accessible without a flashlight where it is quiet and I could be left alone. And I talk to God. (I talked to Him a little on the way back from the pools, but nothing was solved.) So I talk to Him again and nothing's getting solved until I get angry and tell Him to get lost. Just go away and I would talk with Him when I was ready. I felt He heard my "prayer" and I knew He wasn't far off. He didn't move off when I told Him to go away, even though I told Him more than once. I finally had to get up, turn my back on Him, and walk away. Even then, however, even now, I don't have the feeling of Him really going completely away. I'm disconnected from that Power, yes, but It hasn't gone away. I will tell Him again to go away before bed. Maybe He will then. If not, maybe when I attend my first festival "circle" (A Yemaya devotional) tomorrow. If I get Him angry enough, perhaps then He will go away and leave me in peace for a couple days.

First it felt like two opposing forces, like a handkerchief tied to two ropes. Now it seems like maybe I must go back, but I must do the Pagan stuff one last time. It was like this before, before going into the "handkerchief" phase, and now it is mostly back again. I pretty much have to follow Him - but not at this moment. At this moment the Lady and Lord have a chance to prove Themselves. At this moment, I am not His.

Ancient Ways, Day 1

As a Christian, how do I feel about being here? I feel okay, at least about the hot tubbing, but not so much about the rituals. I feel, if evil spirits do exist and hang out around ceremonial magicians or unethical people, like a walking target as a Christian, even more so with my cross. As a Pagan I am, of course, delighted to be here. As the Festival wears on, the dissonance between the two will, I am sure, increase.

Church Search, Week 5

Week 5 - St. Gregory's Episcopal for early morning Eucharist and services. Only 9 people were there for the 8 a.m. service. Much larger crowd (I am told) at 10. The Eucharist had a very "holy" feel to it for me. (It's all in the state of mind.)

I was running early and made it to Hamilton Baptist Church by around 9:30. Services don't start until 10:50 but the doors were open. I asked the pastor what was up; he said Bible Study. I could pick between one on the family or on Genesis. I chose Genesis.

These people are so literate {I meant literal} in Bible interpretation it drives me crazy! After the studies Wednesday and this morning I thought I would be just as uncomfortable at the regular service, but not so. It was okay. We even sang a hymn I remembered from my earlier Christian days, but I don't remember which one it was anymore.

They do communion once a month and they did it today. The pastor made it very clear what it's meaning is and who can and can't take it. I, of course, took it. They used these little tiny cracker-like things and grape juice in the teeny plastic cups. (Seventh Day Adventist flash back!) :)

I'm beginning to see church shopping as not a matter of black and white - either hating or loving every church. There is a large gray area - Hamilton Baptist fits that gray area.

I'm also beginning to define what kind of church I'm looking for. I like liturgical churches. I like being able to take the Eucharist. I don't like literal translations {I meant interpretations} of the Bible. I not only want a Christian community, but a Christian family. I want a place where God is because any place God is, also is mercy and love. Not necessarily from the churchgoers,no, but from the God that is there.

But for now I wait in the hallway {C.S. Lewis metaphor}, slowly tasting Christianity's "flavors," but a long way from deciding which cone to buy. Will He help me find the right door to knock on, the right flavor to buy?

God was at both services I was at today, but it was a different experience in each church - a slightly different flavor to that God. Here is where words fail. Also in the experiences of the Eucharist and communion - slightly different meanings producing different experiences.

Hah! Feast or famine. Two communions this week; there will be none next week.

Sunday number 5 of searching; four weeks and 2 days since becoming a Christian; tomorrow will mark one month. Oh, sorrow! No one to mark it with. Such is waiting in the hallway. Anniversaries are "celebrated" alone. Though He keep me waiting, though the powerful experiences of the "calling" are no more, yet I will follow Him. He didn't give up on me easily. How can I then so easily give up on Him?

Church Search, Weeks 1-4

Pentacost

Thus far:
Week 1: St. Mary's Cathedral (Catholic)
Week 2: Calvery Chapel (Protestant)
Week 3: St. Mary's and UU Church (for new member Sunday)
Week 4: St. Gregory's (Episcopal)

Woke up late so I had to make a choice between St. Gregory's or the Baptist church. Seeing as how at St. Gregory's I had more chance of taking communion, I chose them. (I was going to go to the early service at St. Gregory's, and then go to the Baptist church. Maybe next week.) Anyway, I did take communion. The guy who handed me the cup didn't realize it was empty, but I took the last drop. At least I got something. And it was real wine. I thought it was water until I tasted it, but it was wine, just like Jesus used.

I think this was one of the most (if not the most) positive church experiences I've had. The priest and deacons spoke to me at length, as well as members of the congregation. I told them of the role the Internet played in my "conversion." They were amazed. Their service was very much like the Catholic ones I've been to (a real plus), and I even noted elements from the two Eastern Orthodox services I went to. There was also a baptism of a 7 or 8 year old child.

The service lasted about 2 hours (little less). I'm told it's usually about an hour and a half long, made a little longer this time because of the baptism. But I wasn't tired or bored at all. It was a good service. Plenty of singing, a couple easy dance steps, and blessedly short litergy {I think I mean sermon} that was just the right length to get the point across. It was about the Holy Spirit because today is Pentacost. The priest discussed how, like the wind, you can't control the Holy Spirit. Then they asked the congregation to share any stories the litergy might have brought to mind. At that moment, not before, the relevance of the uncontrollable nature of the Spirit suddenly brought to mind my concert expereince. I debated speaking up (I don't know these people). I composed an outline of what I would say. Then I spoke - first. All the above took only seconds for my mind to do. I simply said that I was a new Christian and told about going to a Christian music concert and feeling an incredibly loving Presense fill the room ("in the room" might be a tad more truthful), and that I can't further describe the experience. Then I sat down. I should have said more - I should have briefly told the rest of the story. But I had at least 2 or 3 more people thank me for saying what I did. A couple people came up to me just to say that.

There was a part of the service where we could offer prayers for help or of thanksgiving. I said something about Charles, usung the form printed in the litergy and using only his first name, not expounding on any problem. I guess this is the equivelant to Candles of Sharing.

Between the service and taking communion for really the first time in years, I came away from that church glowing. (The communion on Easter was not "real"; it was an outward expression of the end of my [first] rebellion.)

Taking down the altar

Waking up this morning last night seemed just like a dream. But I know it wasn't. The book is missing from my shelf, and there is a second necklace around my neck. It was real.

Soon after getting up today, I decided to take my altar down. It just felt right. I don't know why. I wrapped most everything in newspaper and packed it away in the travel case. I took the cloth off. There's a few items sitting on the table still, but it is a table now, not an altar. What is happening to me? I'm quite sure that if yesterday had been a "normal" Friday and I had not met Charles, that it never would have occurred to me today to take down my altar. There was something magickal about our meeting last night. What else could cause me to dissemble something I've been creating for years?

Eleanor said she never know that the concert had had such an effect on my life. After talking to her today, though, I think she understands a bit clearer. She had offered to take me to see "Godspell" tomorrow.

Eleanor made me aware of one of the blessings of living in SF. If I was still living in Chico there's no way Charles and I could have met. There's no way he could have flown through; here he can. Here God has a chance to work.

Meeting Charles

I didn't want to be on campus today, but I had financial aid to take care if and needed to take care of a couple things at the campus bookstore. Naturally, since I was on campus, I logged on to the Net. There was a note from Charles in response to my last note to him, but there was another note as well stating that a relative had died and he was flying toward Florida today. Due to Memorial Day weekend, instead of passing though Chicago or some such more direct way, he was coming through San Francisco. Did I want to meet him at SFO for his short layover?

His Air Canada flight was 20 minutes late. We only had about an hour to talk before he had to board a flight to North Carolina where he will be staying with some family. A true (and for me highly emotionally charged) bittersweet moment. And a true gift. Thank you God.

I met him at the arrival gate, and spotted him in the crowd immediately. I had my old dog-eared, highlighter-penned, used-looking copy of "The Truth About Witchcraft Today," which he's never quite got around to picking up, wrapped in newspaper (to give it more the look of a gift). I had written a sort of "dedication" to him inside the front cover. He also had a gift for me - a small 14 karat gold heart with a cross inside it. It's real tiny on a real delicate, short chain, but it's the most wonderful gift, and how he came up with it on such short notice I don't know.

So I am touched. I see God's hand in Charles' flight coming through San Francisco. It is a wonderful gift (even if the circumstances could have been better) - undeserved, unexpected, a true present that also shows God's enormous power, and is bit humbling as well. How can I thank you, God, for this completely undeserved meeting? Thank you. You know how much it means to me.

poem: May 3rd

[About my conversion.]

May 15-16, 1996

May 3rd
She stands on the shore
Of the rainy day,
Unsure of what lay ahead.
Certainty stretched out behind her--
Certainty, hope, love:
Her friends and her God.
Now she was being asked to venture into the
Unknown darkness of the watery abyss.
Now she was being asked to trust this
New God and new experience.
She looks out on a sunset over a cloudless sea
As drizzle falls on the beach.
Can she take this leap of faith?
Can she abandon herself?

With a deep breath
She steps into the water,
Accepting its blessing and all it has to offer.
The clouds do not clear or the rain cease,
But from somewhere an unearthly light shines.
From within and without her, the
Seascape and beach are faintly illuminated.
She looks at the water lapping around her ankles,
Like wine from a long forgotten cup,
And smiles.

What Do I Believe?

Went to St. Mary's for church this morning. The first thing I noticed when walking through the doors was the smell of incense. The service was good - the processions, the gestures: the ritual. Ritual always turns me on. And I could feel more into it than I did when I went to the Easter service for my class. Still on the outside, but more "in" than before.

I am still beset with doubts - lots of them. I almost feel like I'm pretending belief. Do I really believe? Do I really want this? God, I'm so confused! Did he really die for me? Did he rise on the third day? Is he God? Dif God Himself die for me?! What do I believe?

Yesterday I went to a Christian bookstore and bought a small gold cross. I put it on with my pentagram. Or rather, I put the pentagram on the delicate chain with the cross as the chain the pentagram was on had broken several days earlier. Let's see how long this very delicate chain lasts...

I am just so tortured with doubts. No sooner do I recommit myself to Him, and ask Jesus back into my heart, than I have all these doubts. I don't know if I believe in Him as Savior or not. I feel like such a poser.

I've realized in the last couple days when speaking about who I am, I've always used the word "Pagan." "I am still a Pagan," I would say. I never said, "I am still Wiccan." Which brings me to a realization I had tonight that ties in with Jodie questioning whether or not she's still Christian. I don't know anymore whether or not I'm Wiccan. I would still call myself a Pagan, but am I Wiccan? And along those lines, why do I still call myself Pagan? In what sense am I a Pagan? In what sense am I and am I not a Pagan and Wiccan?

And what do I believe about Christianity? In what ways am I and am I not a Christian?

I do not have answers to these questions. They are hidden from me. I do not know much of anything right now beyond the feeling on longing in my heart.

Baptism is the Christian equivalent to Wiccan initiation. Neither should be undertaken lightly, which is why you won't see me getting baptized anytime soon.

But before Baptism, the Christian first lets Jesus into their heart, into their life. It struck me tonight that the Wiccan equivalent would be dedication. Nothing super binding, but a formal declaration of the willingness to learn and embrace the path.

I am a long way from Christian initiation. I need to study more and learn more about this man Jesus and this new God. I need to learn to love them. I need to know if I can accept this God as my own. I am struck by the love I felt from that Being at the concert. I am struck by Jesus' sacrifice for me. I am humbled and awed. But I am merely a dedicant at this point.

I know God loves me, even if I don't yet know if I love Him, and can't bring myself in prayer to say, "I love you." I have prayed that He help me to love Him, however.

I want to love Him; I want this to be real. It felt "right" to be in a Christian church today.

I've wanted this on some level all along. It wasn't just that He was calling me; I wanted it. I haven't been fighting only God these past weeks, but myself as well. That's why the struggle's been so intense. God didn't need to do a lot in my life; I was doing it to myself, and fighting that self in return.

Am I Christian? I don't know. I need to study Scripture to decide that. But I will keep praying for help, understanding, and love. I will pray to Jehovah in Jesus' name.

I'm still very much vacillating between the love or longing that I feel, and the pragmatism of knowing little of the real nature of God and Jesus, God and Christ.

Conversion

I, Spirit, do hereby declare on this, the third day of May, 1996, that I have accepted Jesus Christ in my heart. I am willing to follow, wherever that may lead.

This is not to say I'm not Pagan anymore. I guess that would put me in the category of Christo-Pagan, at least for now. Obviously, things are changing fast.

To back up...I was walking across campus today thinking about what I really think about Jesus, and I really don't have a big problem with His mercy mission to earth, death, and resurrection. A small problem perhaps, but not a big one.

So I (finally) got ahold of Jim at home and asked him some questions such as, "Do you believe He came to save humankind from sin?" and "Do you believe He is the Messiah the prophets spoke of in the Old Testament?" Getting affirmative answers, I knew what I had to do. I called Charles.

Now he told me not to call him because family pressures were bad, and relations strained between him and Christine. This however, being an emergency, overrode all of that in my book. The first time I dialed I got several rings, but no answer. Thinking I had misdialed, I called again. Christine picked up. I asked for Charles, said who I was, and she said he'd just walked in the door.

(Now mind you, I had called Sprint before this to find out what time weekend rates go on, and how much the off-rates were. I discovered that 10 cents a minute begins midnight on Friday/Saturday. Off rates are weekdays until 7 p.m. - $1 a minute, after 7, 40 cents or 45 cents [I forget which]. It was before 7 p.m. at this point.)

Paul was picking me up at 7 for taize, so I called at this expensive time and we spoke for 10 or 15 minutes. I strove to keep it short, even in my agitated state. I told him I was thinking of accepting Jesus into my heart. He told me what I might want to say in such a prayer, and I said I'd think about it, and then I had to hang up.

I prayed a simple prayer then, though I was unclear on whether or not it "took." Then I called Jodie who was astounded at my "conversion." Then I decided I needed someone to pray with me to make it "take" better and to have someone to share with.

It was 5-15 minutes before 7 when I called Charles back and asked him to pray with me - now. His prayer was a bit inadequate and short I felt, but in the next several minutes, along with me making a statement about wanted Jesus in my heart, I felt it "take."

It was 15 minutes after 7 when we hung up, and that was only after I got a promise from him that I could call him tomorrow. I asked him to keep praying for me and he said something like, "Do you think I'm going to stop now?"

So it begins. Right here, right now, in this bedroom. I will follow You, Christ.

Paul had called at 10 minutes to 7 (ain't call waiting grand?) to say he was leaving Alameda and traffic would probably not be good. He arrived at a quarter of 8 to take me to taize.

We had major problems finding the freeway onramp. At 8:07 we were still in the City. We even went the wrong way down a one way street! Talk about problems. We arrives at the place the taize was being held (on the peninsula) about 8:35 - 35 minutes late. They were about halfway through the service already. But Paul and I did go up to the front and I got to bow down at the foot of the cross they had laid on the floor and put my forehead on it and tell Jesus I wanted him to lead me.

I told Paul a little of my decision to follow Jesus, but he didn't seem to know what to say and seemed uncomfortable and awkward. I'm glad Charles was there for me earlier.

Happy Beltane!

Happy Beltane! Got to see the Morris Dancers dance the sun up this morning! As of Sunday, H. didn't have a working car. I prayed Sunday night that he would find one, and that night he did. Thank the Lady for small pleasures like this! It was (is even!) a glorious morning. H. and A. and I arrived just as the first glimmers of dawn were breaking the sky. The dancing had not started yet, and we even got a parking place in the lot! The earliest we've ever arrived, so we got to see them start the dancing. I also kept a close eye on the horizon and got to watch the sun rise. My mind was elsewhere as it rose, but my eyes were on it. Everyone whooped and cheered at its rising. In contrast to last year, not even one teeny tiny cloud obscurring it! Afterwards, the three of us went out to bagels and coffee and H. dropped me at BART to head home. This was the warmest May morning since I've been doing the Morris thing. Two years ago was, I think, the coldest.

This past weekend I did two rituals - NROOGD and Live Oak Park, and Reclaiming in Golden Gate Park, Saturday and Sunday respectively. NROOGD was by far the best - more space, less people. At Reclaiming we got to handmake flower crowns for ourselves.

Praying

Last night in my prayers to Jehovah I felt that I needed to tack on a part about asking Him to help me love Him. I was very fervent and emphatic about this request. I don't know what emotion moved me to ask for this. Was it an irrational love asking for help finding a rational love - a love that comes from experiences and knowing? Or was it rather just a yearning for this loving Being? And what is this feeling in my heart? How did it get there? How did it start, and how is it nourished?

When I pray I have been asking to get to know the new God and learn about Him. I ask Him to tell me what He wants me to do so I can do it if I can. I get no response to this. In response to getting to know and learn of Him, the only thoughts I get are to do what I am doing - read. Read the Catholic book, read the Bible - just read. The ball is still in my court. God's Holy Spirit may be moving in my life, but I have to actively chase Him.

I'm not at all sure the light at the end of the tunnel isn't an oncoming train.

At the Pagan Interest Group at church {the Unitarian Universalist church} I have to "hide" who I am becoming. These people cannot support me in this search. There is no one I physically talk to on a regular basis who is there for me. Physically, I am alone in this, as in everything.

The Dream

Last night I couldn't sleep. I took a shower around midnight figuring it has to be done and I wasn't getting to sleep anytime soon so I should take advantage of the time. Around 2:15 I was still wide awake. I used a visualization of me in the Goddess' arms and this calmed me down. I woke up at 3 a.m. sharp, from a nightmare. Usually a nightmare will just blend away into the rest of the night and I sleep fitfully. But this time was different. I slowly came "up" from sleep to a waking state, and I remembered every detail of the dream. I lay there a minute, deciding if I should write it down. I finally did.

In the dream I was walking to school, and it was night (I always walk from school at night, so this is already strange). The next things I know there is a van, and the Satanist guy from my class is driving it. Then, in the way dreams just "move," I was in the van, in the passenger seat. No invitation, no acceptance on my part, just there.

I ask him to let me out at the next block, but he doesn't. So I try to talk him into letting me out, as I don't want to talk to him. I crawl behind the front seats, but I soon realize this won't do any good, so I crawl back up front. I can't avoid him merely by going to a different part of the van. I'm trying to stay away from religious conversation with this person.

The next thing I know we're away from the school. I ask him where we're going and he says for a bite to eat. Now somewhere in here I remember thinking that we should have arrived at the place, and I try to switch the scene to a restaurant, but it's never clear to me whether or not we were even out of the van (I must have been semi-awake at this point, as I've never had a lucid dream before). Sometime along the trip I tell him that I am a "white-light, fluffybunny" type. This seems to turn him off.

Now for the interpretation. Jim is convinced that this is just my subconscious playing out my fears. I think so, too. For instance, (and I forgot to tell this part), when I asked him what he wanted, he said to get to know me better. This comes from the fact that I stare at him in class, and he has caught me staring a few times. It is just my own fears of what he wants.

There is, however, heavy symbolism that does have meaning.

1. I am walking in the dark.

2. I am walking to school. This could be interpreted as walking to a place of learning, possibly learning about God.

3. He takes me away from the place of learning. This is one of my fears.

4. I am afraid that he wants to get to know me, that evil and/or Satan wants me.

5. I realize in the dream that I can't avoid the issue.

6. I find myself in the van without my consent. This is another fear.

So there it is. The stress is finally taking a high enough toll that it's encroaching on my dreams. I wasn't able to get back to sleep until about 4 this morning, after writing everything down. I slept the next 5 hours very soundly and peacefully. That was a relief.

poem: Resurrection

Resurrection
Purifying sun,
Burning through,
Impurities consumed,
Strength returning.
Burning bright, blinding light.
Clearing day, warming ray.
Increasing thirst, fireburst.
Falling long, hearing song.
Pleading plight, praying at night.
Needing love from up above.
Cinging sun, it is done!

Coincidences

Prayed to Jehovah again tonight, asking Him to show me the way, walk with me down it, tell me what to do to serve Him, and tell me how to get to know Him. Like last night, most of the prayer was done with my head unbowed, and arms slightly raised, hands slightly in front of me, palms upturned. A great deal like an invoking posture actually, except I was sitting, knees bent under me. Some cultural conditioning does kick in, though. Kneeling next to my bed seems the "right" thing and feels okay, rather than kneeling in front of my altar as I do for the Goddess.

As like last night, my upturned palms tingled when I prayed. Why, I don't know. Am I sending out energy in my great need? (Very likely.) Feeling God around me? (Less likely.) Receiving energy? (Downright unlikely.) The tingling palms added a magickal dimension to these two prayers that wouldn't have been there otherwise.

Like yesterday's prayer, I felt Him listening.

Carlos gave me Thursday work detail, but didn't tell me what job. It won't be my usual beverages, as Dan does beverages every day but Wednesday when I do them. I hope he doesn't put me on salad bar. (God forbid!) Line serving I might be able to deal with. So now I will be working two days a week.

The name Paul seems to be cropping up in my life lately. The guy who took me to the concert that started this whole thing is Paul. Charles' Sikh friend's name is Paul, his self-proclaimed heathen friend's name is (I think) Paul, and the guy at church some weeks ago who seemed sympathetic to me is named Paul. While we're at it, the name of our school library in something like the J. Paul Leonard Library. It does not escape me that Paul is one of the major figures of early Christianity, and is known to have written several New Testament books, even though some of the book attributed to him were written by others who put his name on it. Still, he was a major mover and shaker of the early Church. Is it not strange that Paul is now cropping up? Hmmm. Makes one wonder...

There are times - quiet moments of aloneness, or the experience of friendship via e-mail - where the fear I feel toward Jehovah is almost non-existent, or ignorable. In these moments of the dissipation or ignoral of fear, a space for love to develop is created. It is nurtured by Him I have no doubt; He is moving in my life. He is pushing me toward love. In the ignoral of the fear, and yet the lack of love, the dominant emotion that comes into play is then awe. Awe of God's love, awe of His power, awe of Him. These are almost the closest to love I come. Almost.

The closest would seem to be in prayer when I call out in my need and know I am heard. He may not answer, but that is a matter for later. In the prayer itself it is enough to be heard. The Spirit of God listening is the answer. It is in the experience, the sense, of talking directly with God that I am closest to love because I am in communion with this Being who loves me and is taking the time to listen. It is almost hard not to love then, but only almost. I still barely trust this Being, but I think the trust is growing. It will take me a long time to really get to know Him, if indeed I ever do.

Prayer

After reading Charles' mail this morning, I realize the next move with God is mine, and that move has to be prayer. I haven't done any normal prayer in a while.

This whole three weeks or so that this has been going on I have been responding to a heart level call. God has reached out to me; now I need to reach out in return. Ball's in my court. He can do nothing more until I do something. How can a momentary realization at a concert become this? Is it one of God's Mysteries: taking something small and normal, like a grain of sand, and using it as an irritation and foundation for something beautiful and precious, like a pearl. It is only through the foundation of the sand and the irritation it engenders that growth is possible. No grain, no growth.

Coincidences remain. Tonight on Xena (TV) was a discussion of the One True God and a (major) reworking of the story of the sacrifice of Isaac. Is He still calling me? Does He want me? Xena usually deals with the Greek (or is it Roman) gods, when it deals with gods at all. That's what made today's show so strange.

I'm not at all sure what to do now. I prayed to God tonight to show Himself to me, to teach me about Him, to tell me what He wanted me to do, etc., but received no impressions as to what to do.

More on searching for God

Friday I climbed to the top of the student center at the very top of the concrete stairs. It was windy and threatening to rain (again). I yelled at God for a while and I know He was listening, but the only response I got was that it started to rain and the wind kept howling.

Last night I called Charles and we talked for about two hours. In the incident with the Satanist guy he saw the same symbology as me - evil moving toward me.

There were a lot of little coincidences last week. Coming home from work on the bus Friday night a Mormon guy was sitting next to me. He didn't bother me, though. I had my eyes closed and was working on the Jesus/Goddess/me/door visualization. I had briefly tried to earlier in the day and I seemed to be able to take the hand {that Jesus} offered, so I decided to further explore it on the way home. I could take the hand, but I had a hard time visualizing walking through the door. I finally did, but I don't think I'm ready to do that in real life yet. I have taken the hand, though.

Charles has been talking on e-mail about being honest with God and telling Him how I feel toward Him. I did that a little on Friday. Last night I went out on the back porch and talked with Him a few minutes, but I realized later I had been entirely too civil. The anger was still very much inside of me. So I sat in the dark and berated Him for a while for all the upheaval and such He's causing in my life. I felt a little better for finally telling God my feelings, although of course He already knows.

So even though last week was a rest compared to the two weeks before, little things happened all week, and I kept thinking about God and such. So I suppose I'm back to looking again.

Charles said that since I've been searching for God, I'm being rewarded by experiencing Him, such as at the concert. Some reward! He turns my life upside down and scares me by asking me to follow Him into the unknown.

I also told God last night that although I wasn't willing to trust or follow Him, I was willing to become willing to trust and follow Him at least a little way. I think I may be willing to trust Him a little. I have to start somewhere. I don't really trust Him right now. I don't love Him. I'm not sure if I like Him. But He loves me. This may be enough to start with. If it isn't, then at least the yearning He's put in my heart should be. I can't run; I can't close the door. There will always be a voice in my head, and the door will always be cracked.

poem: Trust

Trust
What can come of Sunday morning
When you want to stay in bed?
And what can come of all week morning
When all you feel is dead?
And how does one comprehend
Something never said?
How does one get up and walk,
One more street to tread?

How am I to look you
Straight in Mystery's eye?
How am I to know that
What you say won't be a lie?
How am I to comprehend
His death for me to die?
And how am I to say hello
When I was only taught good-bye?

Coincidence

I thought I had put all this yearning for God stuff behind me, but I keep bringing it up to Charles in e-mail (I really do need to talk about it still), and little things keep happening. The Mormons passing out Books of Mormon, the Satanist guy showing back up in class this week. Is He still calling me? (shakes head) Impossible.

Today the Satanist guy was not only in class, but instead of sitting at his usual spot in the back row, he sat in the row right behind me, in a place where I could see him out of the corner of my eye the whole time! Ick! The coincidences seem to be piling up. Maybe they'll step, or maybe I'm just imagining them.

Getting to Know You

So the door lies open. Do I take the hand being offered, and let it lead me into the unknown darkness, or do I turn my back on it? The greater the darkness, the greater the chance for light. I know this. What will I do?

I keep trying to visualize a door with myself on one side and Jesus on the other. He has his hand outstretched toward me. I know I should take his hand, but no matter how hard I try I just can't. Maybe I'm just not quite ready.

I felt a bit of a "recommitting" when talking to J. this morning. I keep vacillating between seriously wanting to study Christianity and not. I know I must study, and today (unlike yesterday) I do feel more like doing it.

He {J.} compared my situation with hanging onto a branch hanging over a pit. There's no technique he can teach me for letting go; it just has to be done. I have to trust God.

That's where getting to know God comes in. He said I couldn't get to know God until I committed. We can't get to know God and build a relationship until we commit ourselves. I said something about knowing or trusting the Goddess or some such before I committed to Her - until I remembered my initiation, and come to think of it now, my dedication a year earlier. I pledged to love, honor, and by extension, serve these Beings who I really didn't know that well. He said I needed to do the same with Jehovah.

Further Communion Thoughts

When I went to make coffee this morning, I found my mail, with two good arrivals - Hole in the Stone magazine, and a letter from Sc. (of Sc. and Su.). I opened the magazine straight away and looked for my article. It was there ! Then I remembered my letter to the editor. I looked, and it was there, too! Cut a bit, but it had all the important stuff.

I also called Charles Scott about last night. He said to only call in emergency, and this was not exactly, but I did need to talk to someone. We talking for about 1 1/2 hours I think. (I get special rates on weekends.) He gave me his idea of communion, and I told him why I wanted to take it.

The upshot of the call, the magazine arriving (with my Coming Home to Wicca article in it), and having a night to sleep on it, is that taking communion last night would have been wrong. I am not Christian; I am Wiccan, and Wiccan I shall remain. With the magazine arriving today my resolve was strengthened. This doesn't mean I'm setting aside Christianity, though. The search must go on. I think I just got caught up in the moment, and my tiredness didn't help.

I feel bad for making a fool out of myself in front of Paul, and for getting caught up in the moment. I will try to avoid future repeats. I will try to be more of who I am - a Wiccan.

If God wants me, He'll have to try harder. I will study the Bible still, but I am tired of actively looking so hard. Maybe I'll stop praying to Jehovah, or only pray for Christian friends. No more events - the energies always suck me in. I've got "cakes and wine." This should be good enough for me. This is my communion.

He's calling me away from someone who I love with all my heart - the Goddess. And I feel like I've lost touch with Her. This may be why I'm being drawn to Jehovah - it's another living presence to draw from. I must find a way to reconnect with Her, and make the need for Him no longer necessary.

Catholic Young Adult Conference

Went to the Catholic Young Adult Conference today. It was weird because I was so acutely aware of my outsider status. I tried to believe that the invisible wall wasn't there, tried to fit in, tried. But then came Mass at the end of the conference, and the Eucharist - communion.

Now I know that non-Catholics can't take communion, but it had been a good day around liberal people, right? So I asked Paul (my ride) if I had to be Catholic. He said yes, but that I could get a blessing (which I did).

With his yes you must be Catholic answer, the invisible wall I had been trying to ignore all day came into a focused, tangible reality. And it hit me like a ton of bricks.

I got my blessing and sat back down. What I should have done is head outside. No one would have noticed my departure, and I hardly would have been missed. Instead, I sat with my head in my arms so no one would see the tears forming in my eyes. It was as if someone had slammed a door in my face. I had just been told it was us vs. them, me being the "them." I was inextricably, hands-down, on the outside. And it bit. To go to the conference all day and then have this happen was more than I could bear. I never would have been denied communion in a Protestant church.

It hurt because to deny me communion is to relegate me to outsider status, out of the community. It really made me notice how different I was. And it hurt - bad.

Mass ended a few minutes later, during which I tried to compose myself, and Paul motioned to me. My frustration was near the surface, and I let just a little off. But I said much less than I would say to some, because I don't know Paul, and can't open up to him. I stood out in the night with him, little talk on either side. Not only had I been dissed, but now I was embarrassed, too.

Went to do a journal entry last night and found my journal missing! A frantic search turned up nothing. I thought back on my day and figured I must have left it in either the Old Administration building computer lab (probably), or on the bus (less likely). It was too late to call the lab, so I had to wait 'til morning.

I prayed about it (to Jehovah) (gasp!). It made me feel a bit better. To show I still had faith (even with these weird things happening) I pulled out my Bible and started where I left off in Acts. I got so absorbed in Paul's travails that pretty soon I'd finished the book! I am now ready to start in on Romans.

I called the computer lab this morning. They said they had my notebook, so I came down straight away to pick it up. (My Humanism and Mysticism class was not held today. The teacher told us Wednesday that there'd be no class today, so I wasn't planning on showing up until late [I have to work later].)

poem: The Search

The Search
Oh, brave new world.
Blinking in the sunshine of
Yesterday's afterglow
Does not brighten the nights
Of tomorrow,
Or ease today's burdens.
I pray only for release from the blinding
Light of Your shadow,
That I may rest in
Blissful darkness.

poem: Footfalls of God

Footfalls of God
Like a dream stealing into consciousness,
He came.
Like a drop that makes the cup overflow,
He came.
Like the unknown challenging the known,
He came.

Like a phone ringing,
He spoke.
Like a door opening,
He spoke.
Wrestling with Him,
He spoke.

With the sound of the candle's flame,
He claimed.
In the pain of the ecstasy,
He claimed.
Putting His heart on mine,
He claimed.

Like a stranger at the door,
He came.
Knocking at my heart,
He spoke.
Opening my heart,
He claimed.

Communion

Easter

The pull is back a little today between the Forum (X-tianity covered among other things) and reconsidering last night's beautiful service. The pageantry of everything last night had a distinctly Pagan flavor to it, and in many ways made me feel at home, especially in retrospect.

After church today there is a communion service in the chapel. I feel a strong need to check it out, though not necessarily participate. And yet, here I am trying very hard not to talk to Jehovah, and I find myself seriously thinking about taking communion. What is happening?

I still hate the Christian God - I think - yet there is a softening taking place within the hate. And what's this? My typo above - I began to write, "I still have the Christian God" instead of "I still hate the Christian God," even though I was thinking "hate."

This struggling with God, this hand-to-hand combat, do I really think I can win?

Later...I took communion. They left all reference to Jesus out of it, but I thought of it a little as I dunked the bread in the wine and ate it. I felt compelled to take communion. I don't remember the last time I took communion, but it has been several years.

What is happening to me I don't know, but I do not think my rebellion this past week can stand up to communion. I only took it because it was Easter. If it wasn't, I could have walked away. But I cannot stand up to the biggest Christian holy day of the year without investigating further. And so I struggled with God and my own curiosity, and lost, and took communion.

I crossed a line today, and there is no going back from here. God opened the door and pushed me toward it - that door of letting go of a Wiccan-only based idea about the world, and investigating where Christianity fits - and I in my fear dug my heels in. But God didn't give up, or maybe my own curiosity kept bugging me, or maybe both, but the softening of my heart even as I tried to hate Him, occurred anyway. I had a choice, yes - we always have a choice - but it was a clear choice.

So I've picked up the phone to stop the incessant ringing (it was really bugging me). Now what? What to where I was a week ago? Yes, but with a new focus and purpose. Everything's changed, and nothing. Anyway, this is not a commitment to Christianity; this is a commitment to seek the truth in Christianity. What happens from here, happens.

Okay, Lord, you've got my ear. I'm willing to listen. You better make this good.

I'm afraid, so very afraid of what what I will find and what might happen. But I have to try. It would do no good to ignore it anyway. Haven't I been studying some of the issues already, in my studies of Christianity and reading the New Testament? Buying a concordance; hanging out on soc.religion.christian?

I have to trust that God knows what He's doing in my life, that there a purpose and reason. I have to trust that God will do the best thing for me and lead me where I should go.

Later...I could have sworn when I prayed tonight that I could feel the presence of God in the room, ever so slight, but ever so there. I was heard tonight.

Easter vigil and thoughts

Woke up this morning and the pull wasn't bugging me. I think I can relax a bit in this vein.

On T.V. on Bonanza (?) one of the major groups on this show was some Quaker (?) or some God-fearing group. Another call? But it isn't bothering me much. Maybe Jehovah will go away, or maybe He's just busy because it's Easter weekend. Yeah, right. He's God. He can do me and Easter weekend at the same time.

From a song on the radio this evening: "I loved you, You didn't feel the same. Though we're apart, You're in my heart. Give me one more chance to make it real." This was on the way to St. Mary's for Easter services for my class.

When to St. Mary's Cathedral for Easter Vigil services tonight. Lasted about 2 1/2 hours. There were a couple of magick moments, but only a couple. One was when the organ wads playing, a bell was ringing, and I looked up at the thing above the altar that looks like silver rain that some guy had told my symbolized the Holy Spirit's descent. I could almost imagine the Spirit descending. The other time was communion. I can't give the specific portion, but it was before people lined up to take it.

The guy sitting next to me said that even though I couldn't take communion (because I'm not Catholic) I could cross my arms over my breast and receive a blessing. I do so and the priest touched my head with his right hand.

My back hurt a lot during the service, decreasing it's magic.

I felt a little tug during the service, but it's nothing I can't ignore. From Monday on through Friday night it was a terrible pull. This morning it was gone. It came ever so little during the service, but is almost nothing now.

I wonder. Is God changing His tactic? Is He going to wait for me to come to Him, knowing I'll have to at some point? He has more patience than me. I have no doubt He can wait me out.

But the hate that I've been cultivating has made me stronger. As long as I hate God, I cannot love Him.

I woke up late this morning again - third day in a row. I think my body is just getting onto a vacation schedule.

So, is God going to chase after me, or wait me out? Will I come back?

It's about midnight as I write, but we go on daylight saving tonight and lost an hour of sleep, so I have to be up in 5 hours. And I do have to be up. I told Cynthia I'd help with breakfast, and I need to be at church at 8 to do that. But I am not tired. Don't know why. Maybe something to do with church tonight. Maybe to do with daylight saving. It's harder to sleep when you know you have to.

Good Friday thoughts

Good Friday

Got home from Full Moon and H.& R.'s about 12:45 a.m. Then I overslept this morning again, by about an hour, waking up around 10.

So why am I trying to push Jehovah away? Am I trying to prove something? Am I truing to be better than God? Am I trying to punish God for leading/pulling me in the direction of Christianity, a leading/pulling that I have no control over? Perhaps. At least when I have my heels dug in I am taking control. Perhaps I am testing God, too, taunting Him, taking advantage of His love. My rebelliousness does have a certain allure - rebelling against God Himself. So far I'm holding my own, but the feeling of the need to search had not gone away.

So far the "coincidences" that are "supposed to get me on track" have been small. Today I saw a commercial for the Book of Mormon on T.V. A song, a commercial on the radio - these are small things. He better hit me with a metaphorical 2x4, or I won't come.

I hate Him, and I hate how He calls me. My rebelliousness feels good, and gives me a sense of power, even though I know it's wrong. If I can keep my anger against Him up for long enough, and continually remind myself of His vindictiveness. He might eventually stop bugging me. Right now He seems to be softening my heart toward Him, and I can't let that happen. If I can get myself to stop thinking about it so much, I will win. To that end, I am skipping Good Friday services at church this evening.

But then last Saturday comes to mind, and I find it hard to be angry at such a loving presence as I felt that night. My resolve wavers, and I find myself wavering between hate and love. Caught in the middle, I want to cry. Cry in the wrongness of my hate and sin, cry in the love He has for me - the very love I am abusing right now, cry to release the tension that is always around me.

But I hate Him, or am trying to. I am trying to hate this incredibly loving Being. It's hard. All I want is to pick up my Bible and start reading and thinking and studying. I find it difficult not to do so.

I guess I want to see if I can "force God's hand," make God do something He wouldn't normally do. I want to make Him come to get me; by running away I hope to make Him do that. He may not do anything precisely because He knows I'm trying to force Him to. It is not wise to try to force God to do something.

There is now more at stake than just me changing. There is now my pride at stake as well, and to see how long I can stay away. And a test of my strength vs. God's.

And yet there is this intense feeling that the answer has already been decided. Like no matter what I do, I will have to go to Jehovah.

Channel surfing tonight I happened upon a Jesus program, but it was on the Spanish channel so I couldn't understand it. Of course, it could be coincidence. It is Easter weekend.

Coincidences

Yesterday on the bus I was listening to the radio on my Walkman when I heard the song, "Right Here Waiting." The chorus goes, "Wherever you go, whatever you do, I will be right here waiting for you. Whatever it takes, or how my heart breaks, I will be right here waiting for you." This in the continuing saga of my pull away from X-tianity. I was wondering whether this song would come on. It only took one day after making my decision.

I turned on the radio on my way to the bus this afternoon and it was part of a commercial that greeted my ears - "Are you listening? Do you hear it?" I think this is what it said. Another in the saga, and I am listening if only because I have to. How do you not listen to God? But that doesn't mean that I have to head. I can feel myself turning into a Christo-Pagan, or a Christian, or something. And I don't like it because I don't like Jehovah. So when that God starts poking into my life now, I will just say, "No!"

I guess what worries me is I am one step away from being a Christo-Pagan. I have to make my stand somewhere. Yet, like I thought, it hasn't made the pull do away. Maybe God doesn't have to do anything. Maybe He knows that if He just waits me out, I'll come. Which is why it's all the more important for me to stay right where I am. I hate this powerless feeling of being called and no matter if I put the receiver down or don't answer, the phone just keep ringing.

No! The Christian God is too mean, too vindictive, too horrible. I have to make my stand. Right here. Right now. He is undeserving of my love.

And then I think that there is only one God, so He must be part of the One, and if I love the One, how can I not love Him? Well, the answer is that I can't love any portion of any God that is as mean as Jehovah is throughout the Bible. OT especially, but NT, too.

So right here, right now. He's pulling me; I'm digging my heels in. He's calling me; I'm letting the phone ring. I hate Jehovah. How can He love me?