I don't know

To keep it simple:

I don't know.

To make it complicated:

I started going to church about two years ago; I went by myself. My family's not really one for religion, I guess they're more...spiritual? Either way, church was awkward at first. I didn't believe anything the pastor said, I liked the Christian morals, but was in no way a Christian. I thought Christianity was stupid, I thought Christians were a bunch of hypocritical, pompous fakes. I didn't know anything and all of the sudden I was being bombarded with all this Jesus talk. I was so uncomfortable, I was so completely out of my element all I could do was sit and keep my mouth shut and my eyes down. For whatever reason, I kept going back. I did like some of what the pastor said. He talked about things like love and forgiveness and helping others. He talked about feeling discouraged and learning that I'm not perfect, but that I don't need to be. I didn't have too many friends at church. Jeremy talked to me. James, too. Most of the guys were pretty nice. The girls were a different story. They had their cliques and circles and inside jokes and I didn't fit. Things were how they liked them. They didn't need me and they didn't want me. I dreaded trying to make small talk with them, I was terrified to walk in late, I didn't have anyone to sit with, and everyone would just state at me. But, for whatever twisted reason, I kept going. Things got a little better over time. The girls still ignored me, but I started talking to other people, I got along well with the college kids, even the middleschoolers, but not the high school girls. I remember talking with them and they laugh at some inside joke or code name or make plans to hang out in front of me. Plans that didn't include me. They'd pass around the camera sharing pictures of the party that 'everyone' went to. Everyone but me. It hurt. I hated myself enough then, and those girls just rubbed salt in the wounds. But I kept going. I liked learning about the Bible, it was interesting. The pastor was so boring and he always had ridiculous power points. He had the most annoying voice. Normally the messages went in one ear and out the other or over my head completely. But every now and then, right when I was about to leave. Right when I'd decided church wasn't worth all the abuse I'd felt, right when I was about to crack with all the pressure from school and fighting at home there was some message that really touched me. It was perfect. Too perfect. I kept thinking it couldn't just be a coincidence. And I kept going. Eventually I started sitting with one family. I still love them so much. They smiled and hugged me, they'd ask how I was doing and I felt like they really cared. I felt like I'd found the family I'd never really had. But I still didn't quite fit. There are several dominant families and unless you're in one or they 'approve', you might as well leave now and save yourself the trouble. The family I sat with was among the 'approved', but I wasn't. My family didn't come with me, I was the loner. I felt like dirt. I felt like an ugly black sheep in their white flock. I did the whole church thing. I dressed up. I sang. I closed my eyes and 'prayed'. Why didn't they accept me? I was really good at it, I brought my Bible every week and wrote down verses from the message. I was a good girl. I forced myself into the mold, but on the inside I didn't believe it. I wanted to believe. I wanted to believe so so badly. I wanted what they had, but I couldn't. I could never have what they had, no matter what I did, said, wore, sang. Those blue-moon messages couldn't just be luck. There had to be more. But I felt like I was just lying to myself. Every time I sat in church I felt alone. Every time I left I felt guilty, like I wasn't good enough, like I had failed. It all started to eat away at me inside and I hated myself more than I ever had. I didn't belong. They didn't want me there and I didn't fit. I didn't believe what the pastor was saying no matter how much I wanted to. After a year and a half and some serious soul-searching I stopped going. I looked at a couple of other churches, but they were more hypocritical than the last. I was so ready to quit. I remember this one football game. I made myself go, I didn't trust myself to stay home alone. I eavesdropped on some people behind me talking about guilt and depression and their faith in God. That same night my friends invited me to their church. I'd heard of the church, but I didn't really know much about it. After the game I sat with my friend and I said something about the conversation and the impact it had on me. He asked me why, and I didn't really answer. I didn't really know the answer, I was so upset but as awful as it is in a way I was relieved that I wasn't alone. Someone else experiencing the same feelings I was. I didn't know him very well at the time, but that guy behind me truly changed my life. I went to my friends' church that weekend, and it wasn't too bad. I loved the people. The pastor talked about Judah, the disciple who betrayed Jesus and committed suicide out of guilt. The pastor asked the kids if they thought Judah was in Hell (suicide is a sin) or not. He challenged them to stand up for what the believed. He challenged them to go into the Bible and find verses supporting their side. And he ended the talk admitting that he didn't know. He didn't pretend to know the answer when he didn't. He was honest and real with them. I remember only one phrase from the pastor at the first church "you cannot be homosexual and be a Christian." I went back to the second church a couple of times and every time I went the talk was so incredibly relevant to my life, I was a little creeped out. It was too perfect. But it wasn't once in a blue moon, it was every week. I liked the people at that church, they were friendly, they waved and said hi at school, they hugged me and we talked about everything from school to boys to temptation and sin. I was constantly impressed by their dedication and honesty. I felt like I belonged. It felt right. I still go to that church. I'm still confused about God. At the retreat I walked on "are you religious?" and "are you currently questioning your religious beliefs?". I'm lost. I wrote about 'God' over the summer. I wrote "maybe God does exist", but God can't "maybe" exist. God exists or He doesn't. But even that's not true. It's not an "or" kind of thing. God exists. God does not exist. One of those is the truth and the other isn't. I believe there's more than this. I believe there is something bigger and far more powerful than me, something I don't understand, something maybe I never will understand. But I don't know about cookie-cutter Christianity. I haven't read the whole Bible, how can I accept it as the unfailing word of God? I believe God loves everyone, He doesn't paly favorites, He doesn't pick and choose, including gay people. I love the Bible, but I can't deny the political influence "King James" isn't just a fun title. So I'm stuck. I want to believe. And sometimes I do. But that's paradoxal. If I truly believed, it's not something that comes and goes. It's not something I can do sometimes. I believe but I don't. I'm suspended in indecisiveness and uncertainty and fear, and I'm constantly being pushed and pulled. And it all comes back to one thing -- I don't know.