Desert Diva

Traditional church is overrated, and I’m not there today – emotionally or physically. Formalized church is a place created by mankind – a species that is flawed by human desires and wants. I grew up in fundamental religious environment that was somewhat of an offshoot of the “Moral Majority.” The God that I grew up with was portrayed as wrathful being who was ready and waiting to punish those who didn’t follow the doctrine (defined by man) of the church.

My parents (in my opinion) were exploited not only by Greg Dixon (the pastor of the church we attended in Indianapolis), but also by the charlatans of television ministries such as Oral Roberts who for “contributions” would send small pieces of material deemed as “prayer handkerchiefs” that had been prayed over and said to perform miracles. There would be no miracles for my father.

The “rules” involved no drinking, no smoking, no playing cards (something about the joker involving the devil), no wearing shorts in the summer, and no dancing. When it came time for a prom I remember going to a “substitute prom” on a riverboat on the Ohio River. I was sent to church camp and experienced no shorts (a girl was sent home for wearing culottes), no mixed swimming, and days filled almost to 24/7 sitting in church services hearing messages about a wrathful God.

At home at the end of church services, I would go to the restroom (there were speakers there too) while the altar call would go on for over a half hour with the congregation singing verse after verse of “Almost Persuaded” and Rev. Dixon coaxing members to come up and be “saved.” He would use fear and guilt to move people to the altar to bare their souls with unbridled emotion. One pivotal Sunday his comments forced me into a realization and a turning point. During one of the “God is gonna get you” messages, he told a story of a carload of high school girls who tried to “beat a train.” Their car was struck and they were all killed. Rev. Dixon went on to say that if the girls had “been in the House of the Lord” where they should have been on Sunday morning it wouldn’t have happened. I knew that I could never be “good enough” to please “that” kind of God, but even more importantly I couldn’t believe in a God who would be so cruel and wrathful. I never returned to the Baptist Temple again.

My spiritual journey hasn’t been exactly smooth after that – but it was a turning point for me. I became a Catholic and later sought refuge in the Episcopal church. Episcopalians are the group I feel most comfortable and at home with, but at times I feel lost there. Recently, I found that in my absence my membership was removed. In the Episcopal church, members aren’t “removed.” Even though I had lived several years in New Mexico, I was still considered a member of Christ Church Cathedral in Indianapolis until I went through a formal transfer process to St. Andrew’s. However, I started attending again (but not today). More distressing is that a friend of mine (who is a member along with her father who is now passed away) told me her sister (who isn’t a member) called the secretary and requested the priest visit her when she was hospitalized. The secretary told her that the priest doesn’t visit anyone in the hospital who isn’t a member of St. Andrew’s. I don’t think (at least I hope) that the priest was aware that the secretary did this. How devastating is it to be hospitalized with a serious illness and be denied spiritual comfort? To ask and be denied must be so disheartening.

I’ll go back to St. Andrew’s, but not today. Today I will seek comfort and solace from the “Cathedral of the Desert,” hoping for something to nourish and strengthen my soul. God is in the desert – I just have to listen and be patient…

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