“The Virgin Mary was a whore!” stated my college History professor in his opening remarks, “If my statement has offended you, there is the door.” I sat there stunned and considered his offer to find another class, but the curiosity of observing the bizarre overcame my better judgement and I stayed to study this odd man much like the morbid curiosity of viewing roadkill. I thought I could handle an angry atheist’s influence for a few months; I am in college now. It is time for me to grow up and study different viewpoints in the world. Tragically, my adult understanding of God was not formed yet and I did not trust the knowledge of my parents or my church leaders, after all, they did not understand my Jesus encounter. They made fun of Mrs. Sadler for raising her hands in worship even though she was the only person in the church who looked like she got it. Little by little, world opinion whittled my tiny tree down until all that was left was an appreciation for singing sacred music and spending time with my grandmother, mother, and sister in the choir. I couldn’t give up the choir because it was my identity as a Bunting.
The Prodigal Daughter
Reading the Tower of Babel story to my twin toddlers, I realized that I no longer believed in the Bible. How can I explain this story to them when I don’t understand it? Am I reading this children’s Bible to them just because my grandmother gave it to me on the day they were born? Worse yet, how will I explain the Bible to them when they are teenagers? I talked with my atheist husband about me not going to church any longer and not raising our daughters with any religion. He agreed and from that moment on, I considered myself an atheist too.
Like the Tower of Babel, our marriage crumbled to the ground and we divorced when the girls were 6 years old. My life was not turning out the way I had planned. My husband wasn’t the person I thought he was and the magic and hope of Santa Claus and Jesus wasn’t real. Also during that time, my father whom I adored and idolized left my mother. As it turns out, my father cheated on my mother throughout their 40 years together and had a pornography addiction. My understanding of my world shattered. I had no safety. God, my husband, and my father were not to be trusted or relied on. I was on my own to console my mother and to raise my daughters. I was a shadow of my former self and sometimes I would look into my babies’ eyes and feel nothing.
