Can Any Religion Apply to Me?

On finding a welcoming message of love and divine acceptance

The name of the religious denomination I was born into is of little importance.

I have heard stories of others from different faiths who went through similar experiences, just as I have heard beautiful stories of love and connection associated with the religion in which I was raised.

Regardless, I was brought up in a religiously oppressive household. The dogmas that polluted my heart were:

• Sex is a mortal sin unless you are in a heterosexual marriage.
• Boys will be boys, until they’re men, and then they are infallible.
• You will go to hell unless you observe a particular religion.

These dogmas were so intertwined with my family that it was difficult to know where religion ended and family began.

Our self-worth was measured by the severity of our “sins.” 

One of my older brothers was nearly disowned when he came out as gay, while another family member (who molested me as a young child) was celebrated by my parents for staying in the church.

My “sins” placed me somewhere in the middle. Since there is no direct Bible passage saying “a woman shall not lie with a woman,” coming out as a lesbian in the 2000s was not as bad for me as it was for my poor brother who came out in the 1980s.

However, that definitely didn’t do me any favors in getting a pass to heaven. The real upset occurred when I told my mother that I was no longer a member of the church.

Finding Myself, Feeling Disconnected from God

It is isolating to grow up constantly feeling less than, or even evil, because you know you’re different from your peers and family members. I felt disconnected from everyone and everything, including God.

I remember the day I mentally and emotionally left my former church.

I began questioning the concept of original sin and decided I did not want to be part of a religion that could believe an infant was less than perfect.

Throughout college, I teetered on a fine line between agnosticism and atheism, and I tried to avoid anything that remotely smelled like religion.

Where There Was Hatred, Let Me Sow Love

It wasn’t until I met Monique that I began to question my own faith. Monique was one of my crushes of the month. She was a pharmacy student while I was a mere undergrad; she was smart, pretty, and a devout Christian. She invited me to attend a church service with her and, in an attempt to impress her, I agreed. It backfired.

“How could you take me there?” I shouted after the service.

“What was so bad about it?” she argued.

She had a point. What was so bad about it?

There was no mention of sin or hell. The people were friendly and accommodating. I realized the problem wasn’t them—it was the hatred I felt because of the hurt I had not dealt with. I decided to go back the following week.

To take the emotion out of it, I took notes and concentrated on the messages. What did I agree with? What did I disagree with? Did any of it apply to me?

Finding the Divine Message

Monique and I eventually stopped seeing each other. I stopped going to her church, but I continued my studies, applying the questions to every religion. What did I agree with? What did I disagree with? Did any of it apply to me? Were there any overarching themes that rang true with multiple religions?

It didn’t take long before I began to feel a connection—a genuine and deep connection—to something greater than myself. Sometimes I referred to that connection as God; other times, calling it the Universe felt better. Regardless of its name, I began to believe it was in everything, including me.

The name of my current spiritual denomination is of little importance, for it is too eclectic and personal to truly label. But its teachings are of love and authenticity. And that does apply to me.

I am not evil. I am not less than. I am an expression of God. And so are you.

For more content like this, explore the Worthy Booklet: LGBTQ Stories of Overcoming Rejection and Religion to Find Truth.