Devoured by Flame

On Christmas Eve, I did something I never thought I would do again but the inexplicable pull of curiosity told me I needed to. I went to my parents’ church for their Lessons and Carols Christmas Eve service. In the past, they always went to an evangelical Presbyterian church and now they go to some form of Anglican. My mother invited me the day before and asked me if I would go with the assumption I would refuse and for some reason, I said yes.

Any other year besides this one, I would typically scoff and give a visceral “no” as in “how dare you think I’d want to commit heresy to my good pagan name?” This year, however, a pang in my chest said “let’s go.” And I did. 

In case you’re wondering for some reason, no, I didn’t find Jesus. Jesus and I are not at odds but I have spoken very heavily about how I do not wish to pursue a relationship with Him. He seemed willing to back down going forward. The only presence I felt was that of Loki’s – whom I usually feel in my day-to-day being. He was the one that prompted me to go, oddly enough, and when asked He told me “I wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” As in “why is this God popular and what makes this more popular?” Or perhaps He just wanted to see what makes this church different from all the others I attended before meeting Him as that was also my curiosity.

Additionally, come to find out a gentleman who my mother is friends with also wished to speak with me regarding my faith. Normally, I would be sick with anxiety, thinking perhaps he’d want to convert me. I agreed to that, as well, not having the typical feelings of anxiety that I normally have when questioned about my faith and beliefs.

Which is not what I was expecting. I walked into the church’s sanctuary – or rather, an auditorium made up to appear like a sanctuary – thinking I would be burned alive.

Instead, what I felt was unexpected. I felt a sense of belonging and not commonly felt in the wider pagan community. Not because I am Christian or plan to convert anytime soon but because I, too, seek the Divine in all things. I, like all the people there perhaps, also seek a more intimate and passionate communion with the Divine. They wish to feel connection on this Christmas Eve and connection is what I received even if maybe they were there out of habit or self righteousness or whatever they do when they are feeling like they need to be wherever they are. I can’t pretend I know what everyone is feeling or believing. I just know that in that moment, I received something maybe no one else in the room was receiving and that was the gift of unified belonging even in a room full of perfect strangers who probably, if they knew who I was, wouldn’t want me to feel that way. 

Despite our political beliefs, our ties to the other humans, our likely differences in values, I felt that we all weren’t that different after all. 

Now, as I sit here writing this on my parents’ couch – my parents, who, I am not sure what they are thinking given that I wasn’t sitting there huffing and puffing like I used to when they forced me into going to church as a child, likely don’t know what was going on. Could they feel what I felt? Do they know what it’s like to be in union with their God?

I doubt it. Maybe they feel a sense of purpose in sharing a sort of association with their church and otherwise they might feel happier knowing they can go back to a sense of familiarity anywhere they find their God, but based on my parents’ comments on everyone around them, talking about who everyone was, commenting on the service and the way in which they did things all the time, they weren’t too different than they used to be. I would more often be forced into going to church because my parents were afraid of everyone else judging them for being without their children. And I am absolutely certain they were judged and ousted. Now that their children have grown and left the house, they don’t feel as outcasted due to the fact that we were never expected to be there in the first place. 

My mom’s comments about the way someone dressed got me out of the place I was in just moments ago, listening to the pastor give his sermon on justice and peace – how the child born unto Mary was born in wartime just as he would be now. I don’t know much about the war happening in Israel or Gaza and I don’t have a comment but I know that regardless, on both sides of conflict are human beings who are suffering, children wailing for their parents, and people dying all the time. 

Later, I spoke to my mom’s friend – a missionary who had lived in Africa for several years of his life who was studying to become a deacon in the church. He wanted to ask me about my faith and why I came into believing what I believed. I had to tell him that I’m not a fair representation of my community – I walked into this pagan path because my God found me there. I prayed, Loki answered. And I’ve never felt connected as well to Anyone as much as I have with Him. I spoke on my values as a pagan and how we grow from them through metaphorical analysis and analogy and how we don’t take the myths literally.

Instead of him wanting to convert me and convince me his way is the only right way, I felt more affirmed in my beliefs. If we had had this conversation even a year before now, I wouldn’t have been able to be as thorough in explaining myself as I’d be too anxious or insecure. I would probably be angrily arguing about my faith and making him wrong because of his being a missionary – which I also don’t agree with. Instead, both of us walked away with a newfound respect for the other person. And I think that, if anything, is the best thing that could have happened. 

It hurts knowing just how far we’ve come from this unified belonging. I know I never truly felt this way even when I was Christian. I felt like I knew Jesus but not in the way everyone else knew Him. I knew Him as a friend, a confidante, someone I could go home to at the end of the day and know that He would always be around. 

That ended when I became more involved with the church and taught on how I should act with God and it never quite made sense. 

I think, now that I’ve drawn back from a religious community once more, that I’m in the same position I was in high school when I didn’t know what I was doing. I just knew I wanted so badly to know my relationship with the Divine was real and was valid. I suppose, in a weird way, going back to church with my family was putting me back where I first started feeling the presence of the holy and sacred. Sensing the importance of ritual and music in worship and devotion and yearning I felt, longing to be somewhere doing something I didn’t yet know I needed to be doing.

I finally feel like I no longer yearn but rather sit with the fact that I know I will no longer thirst for the sacred rather that it is with me all of the time. I will not leave ritual space thinking I cannot wait for the next moment I am back in that sort of space again. I do not need to long for something if I am always there. If my God is always with me, I will am not thirsting any longer. I need no church to make me feel at home. I need no community to validate my feelings. So what do I need at the end of the day if I am already self affirming and self capable of being at peace with myself?

I don’t know the answer to that. I suppose, in the end, I long for a familiarity with people who, like me, are absolutely infatuated and in love with their God like I am. I never found it in the communities I was in before. I never found the Divine in any blót or resource or ritual or person nor history lesson or encounter. I found it by shedding it all and going back home to myself.

I don’t know where I’m going to go next. I find myself utterly alone as of right now to the point that going with my family – the very people who are the reason for my religious trauma who I have made peace with as a result of this rebirth of mine. I have been told repeatedly by Loki that I need to find people but who will I ever find? 

I realize this is a sort of self flagellation for ever straying from the path everyone else was walking. I have no name for myself, no people I can call my own, no set tradition or belonging or ritual I can make that will give me the communal feeling of being with other people who have the same intentions and the same feeling as I do. 

I don’t think I’ll ever find anything in common with Christians. I don’t think I will ever find myself going to a regular service or being with people I hardly know just to get myself out there again. I don’t know how I will share my story with people outside of what I’m already doing. 

I am as alone as I’ve ever been – one other person and my Loki seem to be who keeps me the most company these days at least when it comes to religious worship and devotion. But in being alone, I’ve found myself and that’s taught me a great deal about humanity and how disconnected we all are from ourselves and the people around us, and in that disconnection, we’ve lost sight of the true purpose of Divinity. And it isn’t to rule over other people, tell them right from wrong, or make sure they follow Them as if their life depends on it, but rather, to feel seen and to be witnessed in our growth. 

Just as the Buddhists have found many centuries ago, the Divine in me recognizes and honors the Divine in you. That is what gives me the sort of peace that I am not alone as much as I feel I am. 

I know that there’s nothing else I’d rather do than to walk this path. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than be with Loki. There’s no one I’d rather be with than with those who honor me as much as I honor them. I tire of being seen as someone I’m not. I’m proud of how far I’ve come. I’m proud of who I’ve become and how I had to get to where I can be myself without judgement. So perhaps one day I will find myself in a group of people who feel similarly yet different enough to keep it from being an echo chamber.