I need time to grow...
So to put it in as literal of a statement as I can think of, "My world has been Rocked!" Please do me a favor, and try to grasp onto that idiom if you can; at this time, I'm trying to grasp onto my head and as well as my spirit.
I just spent an a hour and a half as a pagan. For the first time in my life, I was the one who was the one who needed to be converted. Remoy Philip looked as if he were covered in a filth unbeknownst to him, and it was the job of the men around him to point it all out. It truthfully was a horrible, demoralizing feeling. Let me explain...
I was invited to a Masjid or Mosque by a muslin fellow named Muhammad. (Let me clear this up, Muhammad is one cool dude, and I have no angry feelings toward him) I strolled into this grungy, small, dim room feeling confident but yet totally unsure of my surroundings. There were forty to fifty men in the room who had their eyes fixated on me from the moment I wandered in. I did almost everything wrong as I entered the there place of worship. I didn't take my shoes off when I entered; When I finally took my Ben Sherman's off, my feet stunk as usual (I need to work on fixin' that); I accidentally left my IPod on play, so a quiet gentle stream of sound was playing as the Imam was preaching; I had my necklace exposed, which I guess bothered some of the men, as they motioned for me to hide it under my shirt; so with all those things signaling me as a total outsider, I fell pray to the idea of religion and it's predator vs. prey mentality.
I chilled during the teaching for a good hour, and then without any prologue or warning, the Imam jumped on me (Not literally). I was attacked, asked to become Muslim, had my beliefs torn apart, and told that my Jesus was nothing more than man. And when I was asked to become Muslim, I was so frightened I actually thought of succumbing to the pressure of these men. I totally felt like Abram under the spell of the Pharoah's power. Luckily, some of my somewhat shrunken manhood still existed, and I was able to speak up and put my faith on the table. It was so hard and scary and frustrating and demoralizing and eye-opening. Finally, whether it be out of time or respect, they let the process die, and they went into their prayer time.
I went to the back of the room, to allow these men follow through in their liturgical practices while my mind was still spinning. Soon after, the practices were finished and a time of fellowship began. I knew my demise was soon to be followed. For the next half-an-hour, men kept coming up to me and trying to persuade me, or in their eyes, teach me, the "Right" of Islam and the "Wrong" of Christianity. I even overheard two men discussing me; "He's not muslim," "Not yet you mean." I kid you not, every one of them had their opinion of me, my religion, and how there's trumped mine; and with that opinion their ideas had some validity. I guess that's why I am hurting so much.
What is this to me anymore. I think I've jumped way to far ahead of myself. Why am I doing this? Why is my triune God so real to me, and why is it so important that I share Him with others. Not to use the term liberally, but to use the term with knowledge of the connotation it holds; I feel violated, and with that violation I feel I have to backup before I can go forward. I have to ask myself a lot of questions. I don't know how to gather answers. How do I stop thinking like a conditioned man of this post-modern, Protestant, capitalist world, but in line with the thoughts of my Creator.
I need time to grow...
Be Relentless,
Peace
Remoy
I just spent an a hour and a half as a pagan. For the first time in my life, I was the one who was the one who needed to be converted. Remoy Philip looked as if he were covered in a filth unbeknownst to him, and it was the job of the men around him to point it all out. It truthfully was a horrible, demoralizing feeling. Let me explain...
I was invited to a Masjid or Mosque by a muslin fellow named Muhammad. (Let me clear this up, Muhammad is one cool dude, and I have no angry feelings toward him) I strolled into this grungy, small, dim room feeling confident but yet totally unsure of my surroundings. There were forty to fifty men in the room who had their eyes fixated on me from the moment I wandered in. I did almost everything wrong as I entered the there place of worship. I didn't take my shoes off when I entered; When I finally took my Ben Sherman's off, my feet stunk as usual (I need to work on fixin' that); I accidentally left my IPod on play, so a quiet gentle stream of sound was playing as the Imam was preaching; I had my necklace exposed, which I guess bothered some of the men, as they motioned for me to hide it under my shirt; so with all those things signaling me as a total outsider, I fell pray to the idea of religion and it's predator vs. prey mentality.
I chilled during the teaching for a good hour, and then without any prologue or warning, the Imam jumped on me (Not literally). I was attacked, asked to become Muslim, had my beliefs torn apart, and told that my Jesus was nothing more than man. And when I was asked to become Muslim, I was so frightened I actually thought of succumbing to the pressure of these men. I totally felt like Abram under the spell of the Pharoah's power. Luckily, some of my somewhat shrunken manhood still existed, and I was able to speak up and put my faith on the table. It was so hard and scary and frustrating and demoralizing and eye-opening. Finally, whether it be out of time or respect, they let the process die, and they went into their prayer time.
I went to the back of the room, to allow these men follow through in their liturgical practices while my mind was still spinning. Soon after, the practices were finished and a time of fellowship began. I knew my demise was soon to be followed. For the next half-an-hour, men kept coming up to me and trying to persuade me, or in their eyes, teach me, the "Right" of Islam and the "Wrong" of Christianity. I even overheard two men discussing me; "He's not muslim," "Not yet you mean." I kid you not, every one of them had their opinion of me, my religion, and how there's trumped mine; and with that opinion their ideas had some validity. I guess that's why I am hurting so much.
What is this to me anymore. I think I've jumped way to far ahead of myself. Why am I doing this? Why is my triune God so real to me, and why is it so important that I share Him with others. Not to use the term liberally, but to use the term with knowledge of the connotation it holds; I feel violated, and with that violation I feel I have to backup before I can go forward. I have to ask myself a lot of questions. I don't know how to gather answers. How do I stop thinking like a conditioned man of this post-modern, Protestant, capitalist world, but in line with the thoughts of my Creator.
I need time to grow...
Be Relentless,
Peace
Remoy