Why My Religion Has Failed Me

I feel my religion has let me down. It did not deliver on all of it’s promises. When I was a child, I believed in a kind fatherly figure who stood on the throne. I believed in the bearded man who sat with children and lambs, and claimed that anyone who touched even a hair on one of these innocents would face a perilous end. In a world of frightening unknowns and shaky familial foundations, I took comfort in my God friend. But, now as I sit in middle age and contemplate my life, I see that all those promises of protection and prosperity were empty. I truly am the master of my own destiny. No longer a child, I am now my own God. A God who can deliver on promises of prosperity and protection. I can no longer look to some invisible force who waits for my every wish and grants them supernaturally. And somehow in knowing that I find my power for the first time. I have the power to give into despair or to kick life in the ass. I have the power to become who I want to be, regardless of outside barriers. I see now what it is to be a woman. Confident and secure within my own skin. A warrior for the cause of me. I’ve waited too long for something outside of me to come to my rescue. It’s about time I live. Live in the here and now. Thank you my religion for taking me this far but now I will take it from here. Because, I know my promises to myself are my own responsibility and I don’t have to wake up and blame you.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.