Warning: If I’ve ever offended you before, rest assured, the following will probably make you hate me which, of course, will be proving my point.
I don’t go to church. As a matter of fact, I despise the Black church with every fiber of my being. Before someone gets it all twisted, I am NOT an atheist. I believe in God, Jesus Christ, and the Bible. What I don’t believe in is the institution of church and for the most part, most organized religion that I’ve experienced. No, I’m not a theologian, however, one shouldn’t have had to study religion to appreciate church. I’d rather spend my Sundays in my bed watching football.
The world is filled with pimps and hoes and so is the church Church is about fellowship and worshiping with other Christians…well I just don’t feel all that comfortable worshiping with Sunday Sanctifieds. How can the pastor tell you to hold hands with your neighbor and pray when just last night, y’all were involved in a threesome with that guy from the club. Yes, I’m fully aware that we’ve all fallen short, but somehow, some folks keep falling and don’t even wait until Monday to stumble again. We get drunk together EVERY WEEK but on Sunday your hands are held just as high as the devout. What’s the point of going if you only walk the Christian walk into the church and out of the church? I see you switching in that tight ass skirt as soon as you make it to your car and don’t think I don’t see you calling one of your dips to tell her you’re on your way because your wife is going to brunch with her church friends. I have zero desire to sit amongst pimps and hoes while listening to the Word. God may decide to pull a Sodom and Gomorrah and get as many of you creeps as possible. I figure I’m safe in my apartment, there’ll only be one sinner here.
The Meek Shall Inherit the Earth As a whole, Black folks LOVE to run to church. I know how we all feel about statistics, so I won’t quote any, but I will say that more of my Black friends attend church on a regular basis than my non-Black friends. We STAY in the church…so why, as a whole, are OUR people doing so poorly in comparison to other races and ethnicities? Why did most of the girls who were teenage mothers attend my church? And why are we always praying for someone in the hospital, prison, or on drugs? Maybe it’s because we place our faith in the church and the pastor and not the Lord. We expect God to magically answer our prayers when we don’t do a damn thing to facilitate those answers. Is your 15 year old daughter pregnant again? Teach her about sex instead of letting her roam the streets. You worried about getting your leg amputated because of your sugar? STOP EATING ALL THEM HOG MAWS!!!! God created doctors so He wouldn’t keep having to send His son around to heal the sick. The Church isn’t going to fix your problems, as a matter of fact, God doesn’t provide instant answers. You pray, He gives you GUIDANCE…your legal problems are solved not by ghetto blessings but by an attorney. While you’re lifting your hands to the heavens in the choir stand, Lexus Financial is repossessing your ES 350. Prayer isn’t gonna help you and neither are the church folk. What God is gonna tell you is “Stopeth the purchaseth of things thou cans’t afford!!!”
Arbitrary Logic I was told by a friend that told me I don’t enjoy church because I’ve never experienced the loss of someone close to me. So, someone I love has to DIE for me to enjoy church? **sucks teeth** OK!!! Come as you are, but when I show up to church in slacks, a church member pulls me to the side to let me know I should have called her to ask her to bring me a skirt to wear. Ooooohhhh!!!! How about love thy neighbor, except for A-rabs, because the pastor leading bible study hates A-rabs. Here’s my personal favorite: Pastor drives a Cadillac but the church STILL $50,000 short of the building fund. I’m sorry, but church just doesn’t make a lick of sense to me and it defies all logic. In God we trust, in church…eh, not so much.
I attended church regularly after my ex-husband decided heroin was more important than his family. I never found solace not one single Sunday. I relied upon prayer, friends, and the fact that my daughter needed me to be strong for her sake. There was not one single church folk whose shoulder I could cry on. The spirit never moved me, the pastor never stirred my soul, and the choir never sounded any better than my own shower singing. Instead of open arms, many outsiders face judgment, ridicule and snarky looks by regular members. If I want to be side-eyed, I’d prefer to do it at the club with my drink and my two-step with the rest of the heathens…the ones not wearing their club dress to church the next day under a blazer.
Holly Junior 