On December 31rst, 2024, I made the decision to get baptized at my church’s New Years Eve service. I told no one (besides my mother, who was out of the country). I started writing God As A Weapon in May of 2024, which was one of the hardest times in my life mentally. I had no plans of being baptized then. I was adamant that if I ever were to be baptized, it would be at a church I found myself, because only then could I prove that the decision would be of my own volition. The things that I passed through in May only made the stipulation I placed for myself stronger.

So, Why Did I get Baptized in the Church I was Raised in, With my Unsuspecting Family in the Crowd?

I was tired of God being weaponized against me. Getting baptized was me solidifying my decision to know God for myself.

I have been raised Christian my whole life. Christian in the no Halloween, barely tolerating Santa way. Both of my parents are Christian, my paternal grandfather was a preacher who had an encounter so close with God, to deny it would be the same as denying him.

Due to my upbringing, I have always believed in God. I have not always seen god as God.

At a Certain Age, it Kind of Felt Like I was Being Force-Fed ‘god’

Like how a bird mother chews up worms and spits into their young mouth.

When you reach a certain age, you start to notice things. And you start to ask questions in a way that you didn’t previously. When you’re younger, you understand that there are things people do not want to tell you. and you let it go.

The more I questioned, the more weary I became, because no one seemed to have a satisfactory answer. It didn’t fill my stomach like it was supposed to. Nothing was enough. Nothing made sense. It never did, only I was now old enough to not pretend that it did. I was old enough to know that I didn’t have to accept answers that were given to me as the full story.

The invention of Google was perfect for the young mind. I fervently searched questions, in hopes to gain true insight on the world at large. In respect to religion, I wanted to know Christianity in its historical context- where it began, how it was popularized, and how it spread. Every answer led me to another question, which eventually snowballed into one question that would determine my belief.

Why is ‘god’ Being Used as a Weapon?

I couldn’t understand it. How could a being be love but also be used to justify hatred? How could the God of David also be the ‘god’ of tyrants, the oppressors, the ones who murder in his name? Is that what ‘god’ loves? What he represents?

When Did I Realize ‘god’ was a Weapon?

I realized it before I even questioned it, naturally. Noticed well before I could understand what I was seeing.

Some tyrants led crusades and enslaved, and some were tyrants in the home. Across all religions, it seems that the most sacred name is both liberator and ball and chain. God, one’s belief in him with respect for his laws and teachings is held across the heads of countless people, keeping them suspended in a space that they otherwise would be long gone from. ‘god’, this being in the sky was one that I was not supposed to question or doubt. ‘god’ felt like a force imposed on me, a being impartial to me and my personal suffering because I wasn’t the way I was supposed to be. When I looked around, I felt that I couldn’t have been the only one who felt this way, who felt wrapped in the wrath of his indifference, but it seemed everyone was too afraid to admit it. I wouldn’t say that this led me to hate ‘god’ per se- but I decided maintaining my distance was important. ‘you do your thing and I’ll do mine, as you always have been’.

What Changed?

Well, I realized that I didn’t really know God. I was all too familiar with ‘god’- the one used to justify all offenses against me while simultaneously condemning me for all I’ve done to everyone else. I read about the god of the crusades and the one that called for ‘witches’ and ‘devil children’ to be burned alive. The ‘god’ that gladly accepted those who commit/committed unforgivable acts and forced forgiveness on those who have been harmed by them.

What I glossed over was the God of Nat Turner. I foolishly rolled my eyes at the God of MLK. The God that inspired slave abolitionists and the early black church. The God that disrupted the norm and brought forth transformation. The God of revolution.

I realized that my eyes had been misdirected all these years to view a ‘god’ that wanted me to hold my head down in shame while the real God was reaching out his hand towards me.

I found God when I was looking for true freedom of self, freedom from external expectation, freedom from the mundane, freedom from the mold I had been fighting to contain myself inside for years.

I found God- and he was inside me. It was weird- the more I came to understand who He really is, the more I was able to truly understand myself, and the inverse is true as well.

Now that I found Him, I don’t want to go back to the way things were before.