Empty Words

I have another story to share.

For as long as I can remember, I've considered my dad to be a "visitor".  We'll be out driving somewhere in town and he can think of at least 3 people at any given time that he wants to just randomly visit without any prearranged agreement.  Okay, that's cool I guess.  Maybe that's the style of the older generation; they like it when people just drop by unannounced.  A pleasant surprise.

Anyway I've tolerated this of my father for many years, but I've learned to do what I can to avoid it. And he has learned many tactics to trick me into going.

Now I'm not going to say he tricked me into flying out to Montana with him, but he intentionally made the details very hazy in order to keep me interested in what sounded like a vacation at first.  Little did I know this "vacation" would be going to church 4 times a week and living with the pastor of aforementioned church and his family.  I believe I was thirteen years old.

So here are some key things that happened.

The pastor's two sons (older than I) would take me out for random excursions in the mornings.  Hunting, fishing, inner tubing; everything a young boy ought to do, right?  I remember driving down a dirt road with loaded rifles at our feet in the truck cab.  "Don't tell our dad" was a common phrase to grace my ears.

I remember, while inner tubing down a river, the younger brother incessantly made fun of my weight.  I knew I was a tubby kid, but I also knew to avoid places like Raging Waters and public swimming pools.  However, in this situation I found myself compelled to participate.  It quickly turned sour as I was unable to defend myself from this teenager's verbal attacks.  Now of course he was just playing around, but at the time it was a very sensitive issue for me.  Even the older brother tried to get him to stop when he saw that I couldn't hide my discomfort.  This may have been the point where I started to change my wardrobe to slimming button down shirts with distracting patterns.

I was loving Montana already.  Get me the fuck out of here.  How many more days am I stuck in this hellhole?  Too many...

Then came the morning I was to be saved from eternal damnation.  Of course.  It was fairly obvious that the family was slowly trying to convert me.  I went to the sermons out of respect (like I had a choice) but the talk about God never ceased.  God became an ever present in my life for about one week.  And somehow the conversations would start to include me.  And I'd try to remain impartial because I don't want to be labeled as an atheist outsider while I'm living with a bunch of devout Christians.

So that morning the eldest son cornered me, literally in a room and figuratively about all my beliefs and my purpose in life.  A thirteen year old boy... with purpose?  I felt that I had no choice but to concede and speak the magic words.  I thought that if I resisted even more, their attempts would become drastic.  So that morning I spoke some words that seemed to please him.  We emerged from this creepy little basement room to announce to the family that I was now saved.  Praise Jesus.

And then I had to learn my lesson: It would've been better to be an outsider than a fake.  I had to sit through more church sermons with this eerie feeling:  I lied about my salvation and I am sitting in a church where I believe in none of the words passing over me.  This feeling of dread and guilt took hold inside of me and began to grow.  Instead of being a misguided soul, I was an impostor.  How much longer could I hold out before people saw through my ruse and exposed me?  I was so afraid of rejection that I gave in to false ideals, but that would not save me from their judgment either.

Of course, nothing happened.  They didn't burn me or shoot me.  It was only one excruciating week until we returned home.  But I couldn't shake this immense guilt.  How much of a let down would I be to my father now?  After mouthing those words that my father truly believes in.

But what did he expect?  A magical transformation in one week... really?  I can almost see it now:  My dad arranging a trip for his heathen son to go to the holy land of Montana and GET SAVED.  To this day, I've never asked him the reasons for taking me along.  I'm still too afraid to bring up the issues surrounding my false rebirth.

So what did I learn from this?  Is it as simple as don't be a liar and stand up for yourself?  Easier said than done.  I'm starting to recall many moments in my life where I should have said something or done something differently.  In order to really learn from this, I need to act in the moment with that regret beside me.  Life is about applying these lessons to the present, and not compromising or wavering for one moment.  I'm sick of being a pushover fraud.