I know, the previous post was a Michael Jackson song (and oh, how ironic . . . ), but to me, it is the most painful, the most vivid, and the most true anthem of a generation that has lost its childhood.

As you've noticed on this blog (that is, if you've been reading for a while :)), I'm not afraid of talking about pain. Dark, painful memories are hard to relive sometimes, but dark, painful memories are part of what has shaped who I am.

I think a lot of Christians are afraid to talk about things like the occult, or witchcraft, or loneliness, or suicidal urges, or sexual experiences that break the bonds of what people consider to be "safe" or 'acceptable" . . . because they're afraid of the dark, painful parts of our existence--and perhaps, because at some level, they're afraid of who they are (or even who they've been).

Walking around in shame and secrecy all the time isn't freedom, my friends--it's self-hatred.

And the Christ I read about in the New Testament (and the Christ I am learning to know every day) wouldn't want people to be afraid of (or hate) themselves. It wasn't in his character--and it wasn't in the way he acted toward people--and if you are a Christian, you believe (or should believe) that he not only was, but is, and always will be God, so you should consider his character (the character of your Creator) as one worthy of emulation, right?

Self-hatred isn't freedom.

Religion isn't freedom.

Freedom is freedom.

We live in a happy society (and a happy church) where no one wants to talk about pain . . . no wonder churches are losing people in droves.