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Fuck John Calvin
January 1, 2024
Reading Calvin puts my 31-year-old self sitting across from my uncle, the Reformed Baptist minister, in my living room in Vernonia as he lectured me on my sinful nature. I know he thought me destined for hell. And I thought that too. But something inside of me knew that was not true. It just took me a couple more decades to deconstruct and recognize Calvinism as incredibly misguided and incredibly dangerous theology which has been the foundation for the spiritual abuse of millions of people.
My uncle has passed. I have this fantasy that those who have passed can see into our hearts when we think of them. People live on in us, and I believe we are connected to them in the spiritual realm. Woooooooo, new agey stuff there! Perhaps. But it is comforting to me and it doesn’t hurt anyone for me to believe it.
I imagine my beloved Uncle Dexter now, seeing into my heart, seeing my struggles, witnessing the ugly events of my past, and putting all the pieces together. He knows, now, his brother was sexually abusive. It wasn’t false memories planted by secular counselors, as he often told me. My depression wasn’t rooted in my inability to forgive my father, as he often told me. He knows just how wrong he was now. I’d like to forgive him, now that I know he knows. Working on that… Working through that…
