Gone from church-Part 2

Not going to church on Sunday meant that I could sleep late.

I was thrilled.
Being a teenager and being able to chose not to go to church was empowering to me.

No more listening to the priest talk about the church needing more money as he preached to us in a tailored to fit Armani suit.

I kid you not.

Perfectly coiffed and sprayed hair. Just like that old Dallas football coach.

Him drinking that chalice of wine while his eyes rolled back in his head, wiping his mouth with that starchy cloth.

Only the priest got to drink the wine because he was holier than the rest of us.

Or so we were led to believe.

We were discouraged from reading the Bible.

We were told that only a priest could interpret the word of God.

They wanted us in the pews, dressed up, quiet and reverent.

Making it a sin to ask questions. Or eat a mint on the way to church.

I felt like I had made my escape from that prison of  religion.

As soon as I stopped going to church, I pretty much stopped believing.

Now somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that I still believed in Jesus.
I believed when it was his birthday cuz that meant gifts for me.

I just didn't bother to give Him the time of day the rest of the year.

I mean what had He ever done for me??

In High School I saw those girls sitting at the corner table in the cafeteria.

We all knew who sat at the table. The Jesus Freaks.

I didn't want to talk to them or know them. 

Walked right by that table with a sideways glance and a smirk.

I felt sorry for those girls always sitting together and talking about Jesus.

They weren't the popular girls.

Course neither was I, but at least I wasn't a Jesus Freak!

I left off with that Jesus guy back in 8th grade. 

Who were these weirdos?? Why did they have to bring their Jesus to school?

We didn't have a SYATP event at our High School.
At least not back in 1980.

Back then it was just that cafeteria table that most of us avoided like the plague.

At the time I felt better than them. Smarter. More hip.
After all, I had boyfriends and they didn't.
I had clothes that were in style. I could tell that they did not.
I hung out with the middle crowd, went to parties, football games and prom.
What'd they do on the weekend? Retreats and youth groups and church?

And I laughed at them all behind their backs, being Jesus Freaks and all.

Of course not to their faces...I may be mean but I'm not a monster.
Or at least I wasn't a monster then.
Or rather I didn't think I was being a monster.
That didn't come until later.