It's Complicated

{center{b}It's Complicated{/b}          3


         My Faith has been neglected, twisted, pulled, stretched, pounded, drilled, and embraced during the sixty years I have been alive. And I am the one who has been the one doing it. While I have always believed that there is a God, I didn't always feel he cared about us, His children-especially me. When I was younger, when something terrible happened, I blamed Him. When something good happens, I forget about Him. I look back, and my heart hurts with the pain I caused Him.

          Growing up in a strictly Catholic household wasn't easy. Keep the Sabbath Day Holy, eat fish on Fridays during Lent, go to Confession weekly, and remain celibate until after marriage. And those were just some of the well-known rules we followed.

         Until age twenty-one, I thought God was the taskmaster from the Old Testament in the King James Version of the Bible. At that age, I believed if I had looked at the sky cross-eyed, He would smite me, my family, and my small town of Green Mountain. To try and appease Him, I read the Bible from cover to cover several times, including the New Testament. I began to notice something vastly different, and it confused me.

         If the Old Testament was doom and gloom, the New Testament was Hope and Enlightenment. I felt different as I read the New Testament; my feelings and ideas about my religion changed fundamentally.

         The first change is how I prayed to God. Away went, "Oh my Lord, please forgive me for my sins. ." Now, I am more personal with God, or I try to be. I feel he accepts me for who and what I am. I didn't use to feel that way. /font}

         The second change is how I now look at going to Confession. Growing up, my mother was fervent about going to Confession to the point where our family would go three times a month. Living in the country on a working farm, away from other kids your age, with strict parents, didn't allow much time for mischief or any genuine confessional items. I still go to Confession when there is something on my conscience or I have done someone wrong. The Penance is what I knew it would be: make it right by the other person through the Act of Contrition. Looking back, what the thirteen-year-old me got from the Priest was out of line for the simple swear word.

         When I went to college away from home, I stopped attending Mass. Instead, I began to drink alcohol and go to parties. I did a one-eighty, from a quiet, reserved boy to a hard-drinking, loud man. I left my upbringing, my morals, my parents, and God back home, and I was someone else I didn't recognize, which was the way I wanted it.

         Even though I was at college, I didn't attend classes as I was either too hung-over or busy planning the next big party. Soon, I got to know influential people on campus by attending various parties. I started to be involved in campus politics and soon was the president of my dorm. With this responsibility, instead of partying less, it was masked by social events and dorm-sponsored parties. I invited everyone I knew.

         Except God.

         I told myself I would attend Mass the following weekend or make it to the holiday Service. I never did. I pretended the guilt didn't bother me; however, it did. There was something always just out of reach about my Faith. Whenever I thought I should figure out what it was, I was easily distracted, and my mind moved on to planning another party.

         After a heavy night of partying, drinking, and rejection, I went to my dorm room early. As I prepared for bed, I started talking to God. Not praying like I used to do, but talking. I can remember how I started like it was last night. I say this because ever since that night, I have started all my conversations with God the same way. I look at our relationship differently. Instead of fear, it is loving, caring, and understanding. He takes me for who and what I am. He loves me for me, not what the Old Testament says I should be.

         "Hi, God, it's me, John. How was your day?"

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