Is God a Sadist? (The Opposite of Love is Shame: Part 8)

My parents slowly started to get more reformed in their beliefs, basically meaning that they now believed that when God created a person, God had already determined whether the person God created was going to heaven or hell. I did not have a choice in the matter, it was God who ordained my eternal destiny before the world was even in existence. I almost fell for that shit, except that something told me that if God was love, that there was no way in hell that God specifically created people to throw in hell. I just couldn’t get on board with that belief at all.

Even though I couldn’t believe that God had specifically created me to go to hell, I knew I was going to hell because I was attracted to girls and that was the most disgusting abomination that a person could commit, and those who lived in such open, unrepentant, sin were not saved because that was impossible. I overheard my parents telling good family friends of ours that that if one of their daughters was ever a “dyke” they would disown them for the sake of maintaining the purity of the other two.

I realized that it was imperative that nobody ever know my deepest, darkest secret. I liked girls. In an effort to prove to myself that I could change so that God would love me, and I would not be an abomination, and in an effort to make sure nobody ever knew, I started to pretend that I was into boys. I think I pretended to crush on every single boy in the youth group at least once and others more than once. I scribbled their names in my notebooks, I passed them notes in youth group, all the things that I saw the other girls do with their crushes. I don’t know if maybe I sent of a lesbian vibe, but not one of those boys ever returned my affections. Maybe they could sense fake when they saw it. But I was crushed when not one of them would be my boyfriend.

One day, I did get a boyfriend from the youth group, but he wanted to keep it a secret so that I would be allowed to sleep over at his house. This “boyfriend” would hit me when he was displeased with me, he would throw huge lumps of cow manure at me. This “boyfriend” lived on a dairy farm. One day, I hit him back, and he told on me and my parents flipped their shit on me. I was grounded because I could not act like a lady. I never told them that he had hit me first, and that he constantly hit me. It would not have mattered. I was not being feminine and that was my greatest sin in that whole situation.

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