Dom read the texts from his phone and a smile creased his face. His friend couldn't sleep and was asking him to come over and hang out. It wasn't anything new for them, there were many nights that he had lay in her hotel bed, holding her and pretending that things weren’t as fucked as they were. He was engaged and she was in a relationship yet week after week it ended the same way.
Sliding some sweatpants on he made his way down the hall stopping in front of the room number he knew his friend was occupying. Dom gave the door a couple of soft knocks before looking down the hallway making sure no one saw him before texting her that he was outside her door.
The door opened and he stared for a few seconds while biting the inside of his cheek in anticipation. “Fuck, I can never get over how beautiful you are.” He said as she stepped back to let him enter. Shutting the door behind him, his arms wrapped around her and he kissed her neck. His hands slipped up and down her back as he whispered against her ear. “I'm sorry that I complicate your life but it's going to be worth it. I'm going to tell Maria that I can't marry her.” He felt her kiss his lips and pulled him against her and knew it was the right thing to do.
Being Christian with Generalized Anxiety and Major Depression is hella stressful.
For various reasons.
I mean, I support the idea of gender as a construct and sex typically being 1 of 3 things (phallic, vulvic, and intersex...unless there’s another that I don’t know about). I also support LGBT+ rights, including the right to marry, adopt, and, y’know, live without being murdered then having a pathetic excuse like “homosexual panic” thrown onto their killer to absolve them of their crimes.
I SHIT YOU NOT THIS WAS A THING
NO REALLY
I really wish I were fucking lying
...
Ah, but as I was saying, it’s stressful.
I mean, I belive that God exists, I believe that Jesus is the Son of God, and I believe that He died for everyone including my shitty self so an eternal life with Him can be a thing, so...there’s nothing wrong there.
My problem comes with wondering whether or not my support for what a lot of other Christians say God says is “disgusting” and “an abomination” is gonna get me in trouble in the long run.
I mean, it would probably help if I read the Bible more to see what I think God is saying, but here’s the other thing.
I’ve already deduced that the instant a writer writes something down, there is a distance between the writer and the work. For example, no matter how blatant a line in a book is, we don’t really know what the writer meant by it unless they tell us directly, i.e. a line in a book from a racist character actually being a criticism to that sort of line of thinking.
So when people quote the things in the Bible, I wonder then:
1. Were the words written down verbatim? Did God tell them exactly what to write?
2. Because it seems that God didn’t directly write down a lot of Biblical texts Himself--not like He did with the Ten Commandments--does that mean that there is human error involved? Like human bias?
3. Because this work is translated and has been for centuries, are there inaccuracies in comparison to the original, Hebrew Bible (believe me, languages are not easily exchangeable or translatable)?
4. How much of the Bible is historical, and how much of it is God’s divine law? After all God’s Word simply means that “what is in the Bible is true”, not “what is in the Bible is approved of by God”.
3...
You know what, I’m gonna end that there. I have many questions.
Of course, I’ve heard a lot of times that human knowledge is foolishness, that we’re all diminuitive to God--which I understand, since He’s an all-powerful spirit and I’m, well, me.
So then, isn’t it stupid that I’m asking these questions? Is it bad to ask questions?
I suppose that’s why a lot of the Christians that I used to know have never liked me. I asked too much. Maybe I’ve always valued human knowledge too much.
Then again, maybe that’s why a lot of people in general don’t like me. I value human knowledge, but too much to satisfy Christians, and not enough to satisfy everyone else.
I know I’m complaining too much.
It’s not like this is the most serious issue in the world. I’m sure that LGBT+ Christians have it 500 times worse than I do.
I just wish I had answers to some things so I wouldn’t mess up.
Then again, maybe I already have the answers and I’m just ignoring them because they don’t satisfy me.
Maybe God as already used people to tell me that what I think is wrong and I don’t agree with God.
But I’m still Christian.
But I value human knowledge too much. Won’t I go to Hell or something?
But the relationship with God is supposed to be about the relationship, not the fear of eternal death that’s been stomped into my soul by my past pastors.
But it’s hard to get rid of that. Besides, how much of what they said was true? Maybe they weren’t lying so much?
Either way, I want LGBT+ people to be treated much better.
But maybe God doesn’t support that?
Does He? Does He not?
Do I already have the answer?
Am I overthinking to make Him fit what I want Him to be rather than what He is?
"Finally!" Woodie sighed, hand running through his hair as the smells of seared meat and veggies wafted through the air.
"Able to make something that wasn't glop?" came the teasing voice of Lucy. She chuckled as he groaned in an elated satisfaction.
"Yea have no idea...Guess who's having food on a stick tonight, eh!" boasting with a beat to his chest before carefully pulling the food off the cooking surface.
"That would be a kebab. Good job! Hopefully nothing steals it." snorting out as Woodie paused to the words.
"Don't jinx me dang it..." grumbling as he started on the hot skewers of food.
With a loud grunt ragged cloth was tugged taught. Wrapping around and around his feet Woodie groaned. Tying a knot he tugged it tight and paused, massaging his feet.
"I told you running into the swamp was a bad idea." the familiar voice chided and soon ranted off the list of poor decisions made. A long sigh drew out, hands going back to his feet, he said nothing as she went on. It was no use in disagreeing, simply finish his wrapping and go on with the day...or night in this case, "Can you just please not do that again. I was worried."
"Sawrry Luce. No more running in all the mud." agreeing quietly with a hiss as he tugged the cloth, "I'll be all right though. Promise."
Grumbling he got back to his feet grabbing his walking stick, miners hat, and general gear, and hobbling back off into the night.
Boots trekked through the thick savannah grass. Tools, supplies, and knick knacks knocked and bounced around on and in the rucksack slung over shoulders. Pausing to look about the terrain and check his map, he stood. Sweat ran down his brow, the heat sedated, but still penetrating the umbrella like hat upon his head. A gloved hand swiped at it, a sniffle and sneeze following soon after.
Woodie had no where to be and had no plans as of now. Looking back up to the sea of yellow grass the map was rolled back up and stowed away, the trek continuing. He simply walked. Picking this and that as he passed but not stopping for long.
His gaze seemed distant, piercing past the veil of heat and far beyond. Silence followed along his shoulders like a long cloak, only the sounds of his gear and feet being indication he was there.
Glancing up he caught sight of the sun, high in the sky. It burned tirelessly, bright and unending in it's power. He had time, dusk was still a ways off, so he continued. Soon the turf changed from wheat field yellow, to a more mellow green. Bees buzzed by flower to flower, still far to huge, but calming nonetheless. Trees creaked as the wind blew, nudging branches together as if they were gossiping on the wandering lumberjack.
Look, they might say, That old wood carver passes. How odd it is he walks with such purpose yet has none to walk for. Walking for simply walkings sake seems silly. Does he not know he should always work. Always get more to build his camp. How strange. Gossiping on and on as if he is deaf. But he pays it no mind as he walks this field.
A sense of serenity slowly crawls up his back, embracing him gently. He smiles, a gentle smile, nothing but a feeling of calm washing over him. And so he continues.
