Academia Gothic

I may have difficulty remembering things that happened a year ago, but I can still hear that song. I remember the words and the tune as if I had written it myself. But I have not heard it since I was fourteen years old. It’s ingrained in me but it gives me no comfort.

The Song: Just As I Am, written by Charlotte Elliot in 1836 to a book of 2777 hymnals. The memory lodged in my brain with this tune would be enough to trigger a panic attack.

You see, my particular flavor of denomination was Southern Baptist. Paired with an invocation every Sunday just as the fellowship service reached its end, Just As I Am vibrated from the brass pipes of the organ. The tempo was slow to extend the amount of time members of the congregation had to make that pilgrimage to the pulpit. If you were a known member, you had the leisure of simply arriving for a brief prayer or last minute business of dropping money in the offering plate.

But were you not a member, should the people around you know you were not saved or had not been baptized, the message that came next was for you.

“Who here today does not know God? Who here is living in the wickedness of sin knowing they can be forgiven? Who here is afraid to stand up and accept the blessing of the blood of Christ to be washed clean? Be they man, woman, or child, there is so other escape other than to accept him as your savior. If you are weak, if you are afraid, if you don’t feel worthy of his love, come join us here today and we can show you just what his love is capable of.”

I was nine when it finally took its toll. I approached the pulpit with tears streaming down my face because I knew I was different. I knew something about me was wicked. I believed there were dark spots upon my heart and only the blood of a dead man could wash it clean.

You’re told to kneel before the steps of the altar. A bible is placed in front of you opened to various books, chapters, and verses radiant with BIC yellow highlighter notations. I remember being made to read John 3:16-18, Ephesians 2:8-9, and Acts 16:31. Amid the loud vibration of the music, the wails of congregation members, and the stench of the preacher with too much cologne banging his fist upon the floor yelling to God to save my poor nine year old soul, I said yes. Yes I understood what theses passages meant. I could barely spell ‘salvation,’ but I knew what it meant. Well, I was supposed to. I was nine.

Now I’m 34. No longer washed in the blood but comforted by my truth. The truth that recently allowed me to come out as non-binary. I’d texted a friend and updated my pronouns. I gave myself a quiet celebration. The next morning I would wake with heart palpitations and Just As I Am reverberant in my mind. This may not seem so traumatic to some but, the chronic guilt, shame, and self deprivation over the course of fourteen years is.

The struggle with religious trauma is prevalent with many people and often kept behind closed doors. But I’m not here to talk about statistics. If you struggle with it, you don’t need numbers to tell you the side effects are real and can disrupt everyday life. It’s important to know you are not alone. Whether you struggle with rapture theory or hellfire theory, your struggle is valid. Each persons journey is different. Sometimes, we never fully heal.

As confident as I have become, albeit with much diligent work and therapy, accepting a part of who I am, even feeling joy because of it, caused those dark feelings to erode through once again. Over the years, I had taken for granted how deep these memories and feelings were stored away. But I am happy to say, now, I openly embrace them as a beacon to show me that I am headed in the right direction.

Just as I am, without one plea,
But that Thy blood was shed for me,
And that Thou bid’st me come to Thee,
O Lamb of God, I come! I come!

Just as I am, and waiting not
To rid my soul of one dark blot;
To Thee whose blood can cleanse each spot,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

Just as I am, though tossed about
With many a conflict, many a doubt;
Fightings within, and fears without,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind;
Sight, riches, healing of the mind;
Yes, all I need, in Thee to find,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

Just as I am, Thou wilt receive,
Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;
Because Thy promise I believe,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

Just as I am, Thy love unknown
Has broken every barrier down;
Now, to be Thine, yea, Thine alone,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come!

You are not wretched. You are not conflicted. You do not need to be pardoned. You do not need to be cleansed. You do not need to be forgiven for who you are. You were not made in the image of a deity to then be told you are not good enough. You are worthy of so much more love. Love will come from sources with no expectation for you to change. You are worthy without the need for permission, cleansing, or purpose.

You are loved. You are seen. You are needed.

Until next time,

A.P.

One Final Note:
I hope adding this will be redundant. But if you cannot relate to this experience please take this opportunity to learn something and move on. There is no degradation of anyone’s religion, just simply acknowledging the experience of one individual.