Thanks for the Assurance, Sherri Shepherd

This morning, the Sherri Shepherd show served as white noise while I vented with work friends about poor communicators and sorted through sent emails to recall just how many times I pitched a culturally relevant article about a progressive triumph in Appalachia that got precisely zero responses. As my vexation with uninterested magazine editors peaked, Sherri’s guest Adrienne Bailon caught my ear. In particular, it was a name she dropped: God. 

Adrienne has a new baby. She wants him to know a relationship with God but doesn't want to raise him with the type of fears her upbringing in the church brought about. She mentioned this example: She's afraid to fly, in part because she thinks if she's not perfect, God will use that plane to take down her sinful ass. 

That struck a nerve, because, unfortunately, I understood completely what she meant. I've lived most of my life thinking I'll be punished for exploring life rather than sitting idle on the conveyor belt that churns out "good Christians." 

To be clear, I'm aware that the rules of engagement for Christianity, particularly for the born-again crowd, are different from what the average person assumes. It's not simply "be a good person." If that were the case, we wouldn't need Christianity because anyone can be a good person. If you choose to follow Jesus, the Bible is full of Things Thou Shalt Not Do. Among them: drunkenness, sex before marriage, homosexuality, cursing, watching Harry Potter, celebrating Halloween. 

I’ve done all of those things aside from homosexuality. It turns out that despite my Smash the Patriarchy-type opinions, I’m a fan of men. Always have been.  And certainly in ways that would put me on the fast track to hell. On that tip: Although I’m fairly liberal, I do respect the idea of waiting for sex, perhaps not as far as marriage but certainly for some sort of good love. It just makes sense, because when you don’t wait for good love and things go awry — and things absolutely will — then you’re left dealing with repercussions by yourself. I’ve done my fair share of By Myselfing. It gets heavy. 

The fire and brimstone of my childhood church did a number on me, whose genetics already dictate a predisposition for fear. This isn't an invective against the good people whose faith kept aglow that tiny white building in North Central West Virginia. Some people apparently find great hope in believing how rotten we are, how lost the world is, how nothing here on Earth matters. I do not. To each their own. 

At 46, I’m still working out this God thing, particularly in regard to which sins I need to work on and which are part of Cut Me Some Slack, I’m Only Human. It’s no surprise. When it comes to the parts of life that tend to be settled by our 30th decade, like assurance in one’s faith — along with a respectable amount of home equity; a well-diversified investment portfolio; and a divorce that didn’t happen because it’s better to be miserable with someone than pay bills alone —I’ve existed on a similar schedule to the desert’s own Queen of the Night, which resembles a dead bush until her trumpet-shaped flowers announce they’ve arrived. That happens precisely once each year. 

Adrienne Bailon is now Adrienne Houghton since her marriage to a gospel musician with whom she has a beautiful partnership founded on mutual adoration and shared values. As she and her husband sat close on Sherri Shepherd’s couch this morning (and I mean Bud and Sissy in the pickup truck close), she described their philosophy on raising a child of God: faith based, not fear based. It’s similar to the advice given by my wise owl of a pastor, whom I now watch online instead of in person because I’m not the best Christian: Pray not because you need it to fix your problems but because communing with God is a form of peace. 

Faith over fear.