This is a bit long, and sorry for my ramblings. I just wanted to provide a bit of back story as an explanation for what I believe.
I was born into a Christian family. I was raised Lutheran (LCMS branch, for those of you who would recognize that). I was baptized as a baby, and went through Confirmation, serving my time as both an altar boy, an usher, and a choir member. But all of the time, I couldn't shake one single, nagging thing from my head.
At around age 11 or so, I realized there was something different about me. Something that I knew I could never change, as much as I tried. I'm sure I had always known I was gay, but that was about the age that I really started to understand what it meant. I had never really put a second thought to it, because it was natural to me. But all of the teachings, everything I had learned, had told me that that was wrong, immoral, and that I would burn in hell because of it, no matter what I did with the rest of my life. A 'sin' that I was born with had damned me to an eternity of fire and brimstone.
That didn't sit right with me. How could something like that be true? Why would a god whom I loved so much create someone like me that couldn't be saved? I've heard the whole "If you ask, you'll be forgiven" clause. But why should I have to ask forgiveness for simply being what I am? That was a point when I started to sink into a deep depression. I eventually came around to the conclusion a few years later that if there was no hope for me, then what was the point of finishing out this life? The end result was going to be the same. Might as well get a jump start on my eternal damnation.
When I was 14 years old, I attempted suicide. I didn't want to finish out a life where I knew I would be ridiculed and mocked, never truly loved, and I could never achieve eternal grace and happiness. My father found me in a tub full of warm water, colored red with my blood. All of the color had drained from me, I was unconscious, and barely breathing. Without a moment's hesitation, he dragged me from the tub, wrapped me up, and drove to the emergency room, breaking almost every single traffic law along the way. I was immediately rushed into the ER where a team of doctors started working on me, but to no avail. My breaths grew more and more shallow. My heart eventually stopped beating. I died in that emergency room. The doctors called a time of death. I had succeeded. My parents would never know that their sweet baby boy would have grown to be an abomination that they would never get to see again when they ascended into heaven. Then something happened. About two or three minutes after they had given up, and my parents were crying over my body, my heart started beating. I took a breath... and then another. After having been pronounced dead, I was coming back to life.
When I came to, I couldn't believe my eyes. I was alive! I didn't know how, or for what reason, but I was. In the following weeks, there were a lot of questions. I avoided most of them, but the one that I would always answer was "So what was it like on the other side? What did you see?". Sadly, the only answer I could provide was "Nothing". The true answer was a bit more complex than that, and I came forth with it eventually after having had time to myself to ponder it's meaning. I did a lot of thinking following that event. What if everything I knew, and had been taught, was wrong? I wanted so very much to believe in an afterlife. To believe that I would get to see all of my family and friends again once we had all passed on.
To this day, I still don't know if what I saw was a hallucination from lack of oxygen to my brain, or if what I saw was truly the other side. It's very difficult to explain in words what happened. But the recurring theme of what happened was "You haven't learned your lesson yet. You cannot pass to your next life. You're still needed here." I saw images of my past lives and selves. People I had been, and the people I had loved. I had been a variety of people. Men and women of all races, gay and straight, it didn't matter.
It was at that point that I came to terms with who I was. I knew that there was nothing wrong with me, and that I was exactly who I was supposed to be. And there was nothing that some ancient storybook passed down and repeatedly mistranslated through thousands of years was going to tell me otherwise.
No, I do not remain a Christian. I do, however, remain spiritual. I know that there will be an afterlife, once all of the lessons I am supposed to learn have been learned, and can be added to my true souls collective knowledge. Once it's purpose is complete can I ever truly pass on into the eternal collective. I do not believe in "one true god", but a collective of souls that have completed their missions on this planet and others, that guide those still of this realm to be better people and live their lives to the fullest extent possible.
