Where's The Love?

4:04 am in Fistful Thinking By Drifter & Keem by drifter0658

Pardon me, but there is going to be an echo here.

I too believe in God. And I believe that God created us in his own likeness. I don’t believe that the Holy Father loves us like a drunken, cold spirited abuser with a black heart. What would the point be in that? How can we be expected to react to the teaching of fear in any other way than by being mindless sheep? Would that be the way of an enlightened being?

Where is the love?

Two thousand years ago a rebel created quite a ruckus. This revolutionary didn’t rise up to fight against the armies and the government that oppressed his people. No, he fought against his religion. He protested loudly and clearly that his religion had given up the message of love for rules and control through the vehicle of fear. This man, the greatest of teachers, paid for his love with his life.

Since that time, many faiths have sprung forth in his name. And many of those faiths have taken up the same practices that he fought against. Man made rules on how to live like God wants us to. How arrogant is that?

Why do organized Christian religions teach with a heavy hand of fear? Is it because the message of love is too easy to teach? Is it because there is an easy buck to be made in fear? Is organized religion the ultimate experiment in niche marketing?

Most of my life I was taught to fear my actions, and now that I have learned that my actions are steeped in love I’m told I’m a sinner. Because I question and try to learn about the wonderful world God has put before us, I’m going to hell. Because I dismiss the man made laws and doctrine surrounding God, I’m going to hell.

My God doesn’t do gigs. He doesn’t show up at the same building, on Wednesdays at 7:30 p.m. and Sundays at 8:00 and Noon. My God is right outside my window, right now. My God is that redbird, chirping at me. My God is sleeping in the next room. My God is the elderly black woman who was frozen by fear as she stood at the top of an escalator. My God whispered,”Bless you”, as the woman released her grip on my arm at the bottom of that escalator.

I don’t fear my God, I love him.

[ratings]

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