#97: When did you realize that your church was bullshit?

We watch a lot of documentaries in our house. I mean, a lot. No, not the ones that are traditionally educational. We go for the juicy ones.

We are sluts for them, what can I say?

Of late, we have found ourselves watching a lot of cult- and cult-adjacent documentaries.

Power and control. White men thinking that they are Jesus. Religion driving them.

For every one of them, my partner will look at me and say "if this gets to be too much, we can turn it off."

The sweetest. The best.

They know that I grew up not in a traditional cult, really, but that I grew up in a super religious household.

Church on Sunday morning and Sunday night. Youth group on Friday. Church on Wednesday. Volunteering at the church. Church camps.

That kind of stuff.

Also, being forced to read 50 pages of the Bible each night of their selected passage and being quizzed by answering five questions after I read. If I didn't get four of them correct, I had to go back and read again.

You know, that kind of stuff.

And while I thank them each time for checking, I'm always good with it.

Because I realized at a young age – younger than most of the people that I grew up with – that my church was bullshit.

So, when was the first time?

Well, it could have been the first time that I heard someone speaking in tongues. I wasn't sure at first, until a kid in my youth group, we'll call him George, said "watch this" and began to pretend to speak in tongues.

Everyone bought it.

He walked back to the aisle that we were in and winked.

Or, it could have been conversations around the dinner table when my biological father and stepmother insisted that our pastor's son was gay. That he was going to hell because of that. That there would be no saving him.

I stayed quiet – too quiet – when I said "aren't we supposed to love our neighbor as ourself?"

It wasn't well received.

It could have been after my first week at high school when I moved in with said biological father and stepmom and when I came home after that first week, I was asked about the $5 dollar club.

My mind went to Subway, but that wasn't what they were looking for.

I told them that I had "no clue" what they were talking about.

It turns out that it was kids talking about paying others $5 dollars in exchange for sexual favors.

My dude – when I heard someone mention "eating someone out" for the first time, I felt terrible for the person, thinking that someone was taking a knife and fork to them.

I promise you that I didn't know what that was.

But I was grounded for two weeks because "God doesn't like liars."

It could have been when I started working and I was forced to give 10 percent of my paycheck – I had to buy my own clothes and food, so that 10 percent was going to be missed – to the church for my tithes.

"So I have to give 10 percent of my paycheck that is taxed to the church, which isn't taxed?"

That was two more weeks grounded.

Maybe it was when I came home with my ears pierced (I was fully into my Loo Money era) and Bob was so mad that he wouldn't speak to me for a couple of days before coming into my room and saying "as long as you're in my house, you will follow the Lord's commandments. If you ever get a tattoo, you aren't allowed to step across my door."

I really wish we were having pork or lobster that night so that I could tell him that he wasn't following the commandments of God.

I do remember why I finally got my license, that I volunteered to be a good person of the church by picking people up who needed a ride and didn't have transportation.

I genuinely liked helping people, but it also got me out of listening to the sermons while patiently waiting for 1 p.m. so that I could go home and watch football (sports were the only thing on our TV that we could watch outside of Christian shows and TV Land shows).

It could have been after my freshman year of high school when I was at a friend's house for the day. I asked my stepmom if I could go to Jason's house with my friend Jared (RIP) to hangout for the day. She said "will her mother or father be home." I said yes. She said "I'll know if you're lying."

"I know," I said.

So, I went. We went down to his basement to play Madden, and his mother was home.

But she went out to the store to get us food for dinner.

My stepmom called her cell phone and asked to speak to me. She said that she wasn't home right now but will relay the message to call home.

I was grounded for a month after that for lying. I was also being threatened by them that I would have to change high schools to go to Cheswick Christian Academy.

So, I think the puzzle pieces just kind of fit together, you know?

Christians are supposed to be good people, but they judge those who don't look or act like them.

They believe that giving money to God will make Him do good things for you.

They create an environment to have you and others walk on eggshells.

I'm not against religion. Whatever helps you find joy in this life and gives you the strength you need, then by all means.

But I treat religion the same way that I treat astrology. It's not for me. It's something that people believe in, and that's good for them.

But there's a difference between religion and, well, cultish religion.

I'm glad that I realized at an early age around 12 or 13 that my church and religion was bullshit.

I'm glad that I realized that Acquire the Fire was a red flag at an early age.

I'm glad that I realized that it wasn't trans people, unhoused people, or non-white people that were the threat, but it was the people under that very roof of the church.

My church was bullshit. And if you look hard enough, yours probably is, too.

Special Edition

I'm going to get a special edition of the newsletter out this week. I've been hammered with bracketology stuff with The Athletic, so on Tuesday or Wednesday, I'm going to put out a "top five matchups I'm looking forward to" newsletter for the NCAA Women's Tournament.

Until then, take care of yourself and happy Monday.

I love you awesome nerds.