Jesus Broke My Heart

    This blog is going to be about why I do not call myself a Christian. This blog reflects my experiences and my decisions, so if you are sensitive about non-Christians, then I suggest you do not read this entry.

    A little background information about my faith, my whole family is made up of hardcore Christians. My family is a little than more on the prejudice side when it comes to those who do not follow the path of Christ. I currently live with my dad who believes that if I live under his roof, I WILL believe as he does. Frankly. I am NOT a Christian. I am a Pagan, a Celtic Witch to be specific. I was born and raised under the Christian banner, but in my heart, I did not believe as they did.
     Up until the 8th grade, I called myself a Christian. I went to church as often as I could because I wanted to be closer to God. I wanted to feel accepted into something that I wouldn't feel isolated from. So I followed what I knew. The ONLY thing I knew.
    Sometime in the 8th grade I hit rock bottom in my life. My family was disfunctional and I felt really isolated from the world. My dad was dying in the hospital, my mother was partying, and my little sister was slowly recovering from her brain injury that almost killed her. I was the only 14 and I was acting like the adult of the family. It was a lot of pressure on me. So I fell into depression and became suicidal. I was prone to suicidal attempts. In the 5th grade, I had my first experience of suicidal tendencies. I failed because I was saved by my angel then, I just didn't know it. 
      I became a goth. I know, the sterotype was bad but that's how terrible my depression was. I cut myself a lot; I have 33 scars on my left wrist. I was starting to become a misanthrope. I didn't trust anyone, I hated the world, and I really wanted to die.
    I realized that I was losing myself and I didn't want this at all. I cried out for help from Jesus and God, and waited patiently. I felt no comfort, I felt abandoned. For many days, I prayed and prayed as my dad was dying in the hospital. I got no reply, no small bit of comfort, nothing. I was devastated as I thought that God abandoned me.Jesus abandoned me and pretty much turned his back on me. I felt shattered, broken, and alone. All in all, that was when I lost my Christian faith. I saw that if God proclaimed he loved his children and allowed them to suffer like this, then there was no God.
   But not believing in something bigger than this world just didn't feel right. I KNEW that there was a God, I felt it, but it wasn't the Christian God. So I broke away from Christianity and followed my heart. Sometime, I actually DID take my life; I died. I felt really close with my Guardian Angel and so I knew he was with me the night that I died, along with someone else. A beautiful women who held me in her arms and healed my shattered heart. She showed me love and beauty that was indescrible. I believe that she was the Goddess and she brought me back to life. After the night I died, I followed her and from that day on she made me a better person.
    The things I felt with Christianity just did not feel right. I felt it preached love and compassion but still held hatred in its heart. My childhood evolved around nature and animals and seeing all life as sacred. Paganism taught me this, it taught me the true meaning of love, the true meaning of life, and how to live it beautifully.

     So that is the reason I am not a Christian. I just do not find it appealing. I respect it and it's followers, but It is not for me.
                                               Blessings,
                                                            Silver