This... is a hard topic for me to write about. Thanks to a friend of mine, however, I think... I'm starting to regain the faith that religion and hard things in my life stole from me.
This is in part directed at him, who I'm still trying to get onto this forum, and in part to explain what's been swirling in my head for a month or two now.
Start from the beginning... I've mentioned to some of you that I've had a rough go of it. Some of you know the details. Many don't. I'll lay my cards on the table, even if all I have are aces and eights.
I'm 29 years old. When I was three, I was pretty... precocious. Getting my hands on books to read on my own, things like that. I was put in pre-pre-school. Yes, there is such a thing. So, time passes, and I come home one day to tell my parents that the teacher was 'sticking hot dogs up my butt'. They thought I was just telling stories. Dad, however, had a feeling, and got me taken out. Six months later? News story about the teacher and his wife were arrested on 26 counts of child molestation.
No, I never got therapy.
Fast forward to when I was seven. I was already getting 'favorite' relatives. Dad was, and still is, my fucking hero to this day. My uncle Robert was one such favorite relative, and he didn't sugarcoat things. Very blunt, very "this is how the world works" kinda guy. He had a habit every Friday, of hitting the local bar after his work shift was over at the mill, having two beers, heading home. Like clockwork. One week, he said hello to a girl who was sitting next to him, and they got to chatting while he drank. He polished them off, said good night to the regulars, and went home. Unfortunately, the girl he was talking to had a jealous boyfriend who was convinced that she was cheating on him... so when he saw her talking to my uncle...
... he followed my uncle home, broke into the garage, and took a 2x4 from there, and found the bedroom in the house... and raised the 2x4. He dragged my uncle's body out of the house, and dumped him in a ditch outside of town. We didn't find him for three days, which is when we got the call from my aunt about his murder. They caught the guy... and gave him 16 years for pre-meditated murder.
No, I didn't get therapy.
So, what's this got to do with Faith vis a vis religion... I asked god, after my uncle's murder, 'why'... I never got an answer. I grew up surrounded by folks that didn't practice what they preached, to say the least. I turned my back on faith for good when I was 13. After all, it'd brought me nothing but pain and misery and hadn't helped me with any answers in life. Or so I thought.
I met a guy through a fanfic website. Yes, it's for pony. No, this isn't going to turn into a pony thread, and if anybody gets any bright ideas, I'm going to get your posts nuked. Clear?
So, this guy... conservative Christian guy. Nearly my diametric opposite. Yet, somehow, some way, we hit it off. I proudly, happily call this guy my friend. Someday, if we get close enough, I may even be fortunate enough to call him my brother, something I'd like dearly. He and I went back and forth on so many things, and still do. Predestination. Free will vs. omnipotence. Creationism. And I realized something. In him, through him, my faith is being re-ignited and burning brightly once more. I never thought I'd feel this way again. Do we disagree? vehemently, on some things. However, it's through those disagreements that I find I understand the bible better. I'm not getting badgered into "believe this or burn in hell" bullshit. I'm not getting told "you don't believe in what I do, you're an evil person" stuff either. And I could honestly talk to him for years about this sort of thing. We've even gotten into studying bible verses together, and he has historical context and references to back him up. It's wonderful.
So, to Fyrenn, if he reads this... thanks, my friend. You may well have saved my life.
To the rest of you... have you encountered anything similar? where faith is proving to be the better foundation than the religion you were raised in?