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Christians of a feather

Christians of a feather

Last updated on: June 6, 2013 at 9:04 am by John Shore

Christians of a feather 2013-06-06T09:04:50-08:00 John Shore

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Dear John,

I have read your blog for ages. I was involved in charismatic and fundy churches for ages, and, after being involved in ex-gay ministries and church for more years, came out as gay after a suicidal depression, and began to rebuild my life.

I lost all my church friends, and the anger towards church and Christians is palpable still. Every church I have gone to had people who behaved like shitbags. I’m not anti-God, but anti-church, and want to be able to break through this. Any thoughts?

Shitbag. Man, that is one harsh curse word. If anyone ever calls me a shitbag, I’m just gonna … be pretty darn sure they don’t like me.

Then I’ll kiss ’em. Then they’ll be all confused. But I’ll walk away knowing that, because I’m such an awesome kisser, I’ve just left them with one disgusting sexual fetish.

That’ll teach ’em. Call me a shitbag.

Anyway, back to you.

Dude: You can no longer rid the world of [I just can’t bring myself to say it]bags than you can rid the world of people with teeth. IJCBMTSIbags are everywhere. People suck. They’re mean, stupid, selfish, rude, opportunistic, and just … Obnoxious in General.

I know I am. Right before starting this blog post, for instance, I tweeted this:

A wood dove is building a nest right outside my window. I could build a better nest with 7in. of dental floss. Sad. #InstictFail

That’s me, making fun of a bird.

Poor bird. All it’s trying to do is build a nest.

Unfortunately, it’s trying to build one directly atop sloping roof tiles. Which don’t grip the nest. So the nest keeps sliding off the roof. And when it sees that happening, the bird sort of panics, and real quick tries to keep the nest in place by sitting on it. Then bird and nest go sliding off the roof. Then, about halfway to the ground, the bird remembers that it can fly, and saves itself.

A few minutes later, it comes right back to the same place on my roof, spends a while fretting over and accusingly staring at the spot, and then starts building another nest there!

Unbelievable! I’m, like, “Hey! Birdbrain! Try a tree!”

But does it listen? No. It’s a wood dove. They’re also sometimes called mourning doves. And do you know why those doves mourn? Because they have the dinkiest head of all the birds in the bird kingdom.

No room for brains! You couldn’t fit a BB in a noggin that size. Hence their sadness! They can see that their nests aren’t working; but, alas, are helpless to figure out why.

Tragic.

Wait. Now this dove’s looking through my window, right at me.

I think it wants me to help with its nest!

It probably thinks I built my whole house!

Man. I dunno. I might squirt a little glue on my roof, see if that helps. But I don’t how much I want to get involved with upsetting the whole order of nature. You start building nests for birds, and then what? Where’s it end? I don’t want coyotes showing up at my front door at two in the morning, asking if I can come out and help them strangle a cat.

I think I better do the right thing here, and close my blinds.

And my window. So I don’t have to hear the sadness.

Anyway, the point is: People are no different from … certain almost spectacularly slow birds. We’re all just out here, trying not to slip off the roof.

If you’re at a church where more people treat you poorly than well, leave that church. Life is hard enough without having to suffer IJCBMTSIbags on a Sunday morning. Find a church where people aren’t crazy—or where less of them are, anyway. And if you can’t find such a church, start one. Find some Christians you like, meet with them on Sunday mornings, do a little Bible reading and general communing, and you’ve got yourself goin’ on a little nurturing, grassroots Christianity.

Why not? Birds of a feather, and all that.

Dear John

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