When Christians Overdose on God: A Conversation

One afternoon while scanning the Internet for multi-colored neon JESUS signs (I like them and want one hanging in my garage), I accidentally came across a website about Karl Marx. It had said that Marx wrote, “Religion is the opium of the people.” Little wonder there’s a war raging in Afghanistan.

The next morning at a Starbucks near my house, I had been waiting for my order to be made when a middle-aged white, petite woman with lots of make-up and brown hair tightly wrapped in a bun approached me. She asked me something and I couldn’t understand her.

I told her I was deaf. She reacted as if I was born without a brain and began talking in slow motion, which didn’t help me at all. I asked her a few times to repeat herself because her words were becoming blurred into one long word.

“Whaaaaatissssssyouuurrnaaaaaame?”

I asked her to talk normally and after a few tries, she finally started speaking coherently. I told her my name and we shook hands. Her grip was rather strong for a woman of her size and a brief mental picture of a Christian dominatrix popped into my skull.

“Do you know how to read and write?” she asked me.

“No.”

For some reason or another, lots of people seem to think being deaf is the same as being Forrest Gump. If it wasn’t someone thinking I was medically stupid, then someone else expected me to randomly quip “life is like a box of cherries.”

“You don’t know how to read at all?”

“No.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I do not work.”

She raised both of her painted eyebrows and paused. Like an old fashioned schoolmarm, she looked at me with a slight tinge of contempt as if I deserved to be the class dunce. I shrugged at her, waiting for her next line of questioning.

“Praise be the Lord,” she said. “Maybe we need to get you into an adult’s literacy program so you can learn to read and write.”

“Okay.”

“My church has a great program! Perfect! Do you have a car?”

“No.”

“Umm … ok, so you must take the bus then. Are there any churches near where you live?”

“No. I live in an institution of other people like me.”

She nodded slowly and straightened her back and folded her arms across her chest. I noticed her pink fingernails looked professionally done, as did her eyebrows, hair and quite possibly, her breasts. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

“Do you go to church at all?”

“No.”

“Do you believe in God?”

“My Mamma always told me God was drug of choice for people.”

She smiled and laughed to herself. “Why, yes! God IS a drug for many people! I love that!”

I shrugged before continuing. “My Mamma always told me to listen to Nancy Reagan. Nancy Reagan always told me to say no to drugs. God is a drug. I say no to God.”

She looked at me like she didn’t know what to do or say next. Her right hand went from her breast to her mouth, which was partially open. For a second, silence passed between us.

“How did you get your condition? How did you become deaf?”

“A faith healer made me deaf.”

“What!? No way! Really? You can’t be serious!” I saw cracks forming in the schoolmarm image she projected. She seemed altogether confused and unsure what to make of me.

“When I was 5, I was blind,” I continued, “my Mamma took me to a faith healer and he cured my blindness.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! WOW! You were both deaf and blind?”

I shook my head. “No. The faith healer made me deaf.”

An awkward silence passed between us (again).

“When the faith healer healed my blind eyes, he rejoiced and spoke in tongues and yelled at me. He blew out my eardrums. I am now deaf.”

She remained frozen while her eyes danced wildly around my face. Her mouth would alternatively open and close like a fish out of water. Her body language suggested she was completely overtaken by our conversation. I felt a twinge of guilt for making her feel uncomfortable.

“A faith healing gone wild,” I added. She gasped and muttered something that I didn’t understand.

“People who go to church are drug addicts.”

She shook her head at me. “That’s not right. I can promise you I’ve never taken a drug in my life! I’m not a drug addict.”

“My Mamma always told me God was opium of the masses. If you believe in God, you are an opium addict.”

She half-laughed and shook her head again. “No, you’re wrong. Well, not wrong but you’re not using the right context.”

“I once won a coloring book contest.”

“Oh! I’m sorry – you misunderstood me. God is not a drug – not an actual drug like marijuana.”

“Marijuana kills people. God kills people. My Mamma told me this.”

She nervously shifted her body weight first on one foot, then another. Her folded arms seemed to be holding herself together tighter, and her eyes darted from me towards the windows as if looking outside for help. I wondered if she was asking for divine intervention.

A Starbucks employee announced her drink was ready and she quickly grabbed it. She hurriedly walked to a table, scribbled something down on a piece of paper and walked back towards me. Giving me the paper – which had her phone number on it – she told me she wanted my Mamma to call her. I politely smiled at her.

I asked her to repeat the numbers out loud and she did. I told her I couldn’t read her name very well because it was not very legible handwriting. The handwriting itself looked like she was hopped up on too much speed or caffeine or both.

“I thought you couldn’t read?”

“I can only read in Braille,” I told her. “Actually, I’m in post-graduate school and an atheist. Just so you know, not all deaf people are illiterate children who need salvation of one form or another. But, thank you for your concern.”

She looked at me with contempt in her eyes. Not a word escaped from her mouth, which had formed a semi-permanent “O.” I smiled innocently at her and waved good-bye. She didn’t move.

That night in my garage with sweet smoke creating a thick haze, I shared the morning’s conversation with my friends. Someone suggested that I invite the woman to our own church in my garage. More laughter followed and before long, we were watching Forrest Gump running and running some more.

I don’t know. Some people say religion is about choice; others say it’s a moral requirement. All I know is that Nancy Reagan was right.

Just say no.

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Posted at 11:15 PM under The Conversational Series. Follow responses through the comments feed, Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your site.


Comments

Amen!!!!!! just say NO.

mike

Mike ..

Thanks.
:o )

Paotie

Paotie

Judging Christianity on this one woman is akin to judging Islam by the acts of one terrorists. Every religious group, every profession, every everything, has a quack that misrepresents it. You ran into an idiot; an idiot who just happened to be a Christian. I’m a Christian, I’ve known lots of women like this one, I don’t base my religion upon *those* people. Fortunately I don’t base it upon myself either.

Stacy ..

I know many Christian women aren’t like the one described in the story. I’ve had many people claim I was “God’s Special Child” because I’m deaf. And I’ve been yelled and doused with cold (“holy”) water by various Christians in the name of outcasting some demonic deafness disease that I had to be rid of.

As I kid, I once asked my Mamma why a kid had to be deaf to be “God’s Special Child,” and not my best friend, who was a regular hearing kid. Her answer?

“Get ready for bed.”

If you look closely at most organized religion (and to some extent, atheism as well), you can find hypocrisy anywhere you look. Sometimes, it’s funny. Sometimes, it’s not.

I’m just offering a different perspective.

Thanks for the comment.
:)

Paotie

Paotie

Yea, I’d be staying away from those types. My father grew up Pentecostal, hated it, married a southern Baptist and was pretty much kicked out of the family. I chose to go non-denominational and that pained my mother. Funny. I see it as an evolution to return to the roots. As someone who’s been in church for almost 40 years, I’ve seen it all. I hate to judge, but it’s what we people do; I left my last church because of what I felt was an outright hypocrisy. People fail, always have, always will; God doesn’t. That what brings me comfort.

When you take into consideration the many abnormalities that exist, it would seem that most of us have something wrong with us. Lack of a sense, or a limb, is something that is obvious to all and I’ve yet to figure out why so many are made uncomfortable by it. Perhaps it’s a harsh reality they don’t want to face, or are scared that it might happen to them or their loved ones. Just like when we hear of child abuse, or war, or insert anything negative; it reminds us of our own frailty and that could be us at “any moment”. Eh.

Oh, BTW, I’m a Colorado native; I’m in the Denver Metro area. Oh, okay; north side. God forbid anyone think I’m from Highlands Ranch.

Stacy ..

Experience has taught me that most people don’t like to be reminded of the fact they take their mortality for granted. I don’t blame people, because I struggle with the notion that I could possibly be paralyzed and not do the things I do everyday. I can’t imagine what I’d do if my hands were chopped off. Very unpleasant to consider.

I had a friend who lost both his hands in an oil rigging accident and he took it all in stride. He used to tease me because he signed with his stumped forearms.

“Please forgive my fingerspelling,” he’d say, “because I’m a little behind on practice.”

Well, it is what it is.

Anyway, I’m flattered that you found my article/blog. May I ask how you did, especially considering you live in north Denver? I think it’s awesome you found my article/blog. Thank you!

Sorry I didn’t reply again last night – the day’s excitement (and 4:30 a.m. awakening) finally caught up to me.

Here’s to having a great week.
:)

Paotie

Paotie

Kokonut Pundit. I originally came over here for MMA stuff and got sidetracked. Huge UFC fan, well, until Matt got screwed over. At this point we’re still intending on boycotting UFC 76. Which is quite painful. We NEVER miss them.

I agree Matt was screwed over. But as Kokonut Pundit explained in his blog, “ Why Throw “Audism” as a Reason for Matt Hamill’s Fight Loss?” the outcome may have actually helped Hamill far more than if he had won.

So, really, I’m thankful the judges scored it the way they did, even though I hate that Hamill was robbed. In a way, Hamill won far more by losing. Don’t give up.

Keith Jardine (whom I’ve met and worked out at the same gym with) is up against Liddell. I want Jardine to win (I’m biased). I also want Diego Sanchez to win, too.

Don’t give up – the sport is still relatively young and mistakes are bound to be made. In Hamill’s case, a robbery turned into a world of treasures for Hamill.

I can’t wait for it to snow, already.
:)

Paotie

Paotie

That travesty catapulted Hamill into the spotlight. He immediately acquired a following he might not have had otherwise. He came out the winner in several other ways. Dana’s “a rematch is a no-brainer” thing angered me. IMHO, there is no need for a rematch; Bisping needs to recant his victory. His poor ring performance and statements afterwards has left me disliking him; which is sad because I did like him. I had a difficult routing for one of them before they fought. Oh well. We are a wrestling family, and we tend to support the wrestlers first in MMA.

I’m not sure how summer was for The Springs this year, it was miserable here. High nineties with humidity for a large portion of the summer. What’s up with that? I can’t wait for cooler weather. I have a friend down there who is an El Paso Cty. Sheriff’s Deputy; plus old classmates. But the deputy is the only one I really stay in contact with.

Stacy ..

I agree with your point about the rematch being a “no-brainer.” One of the things I’ve not agreed with in terms of rematches has been Dana’s insistence that people have to “earn” their way to the top. When Liddell lost to Jackson, no immediate talks for a rematch were offered, which irritated me. But, I’m used to boxing, in which rematches are a dime a dozen, so I don’t know that my boxing familiarity is what drives my irritation or if it’s just Dana’s match-making that bothers me at times.

I don’t agree that Koscheck earned a right to fight Diego Sanchez again. Diego hadn’t lost, while Koscheck was knocked out not long after the TUF series ended. So, why did Koscheck “earn” the right to fight Sanchez and not Sanchez earning the right to fight GSP?

I think sometimes Dana focuses too much on marketing, rather than selling a quality product. I’m not about to sit on a podium and rant against Dana, because I think he’s done a superb job for the sport itself. It’s just that at times, there’s a madness to his methods of match-making that drives me up the wall.

To his credit, he puts on good shows, especially with the recent addition of Pride fighters. So, it’s hard for me to complain too loudly about match-making and rematches.

I see the logic behind a rematch – if only for it’s formality – and think I Hamill will do better the second time around.

I am forever a Matt Hamill fan. He showed up without interpreters at the TUF and worked his way. He should’ve won the TUF.

Anyways, the Springs was nice for us this summer. But that may be relatively speaking: I’m used to the hot desert summers of the Southwest. My neighbors teased me often because I’d always walk outside the house with a pullover – even when it was 80 degrees outside. But the rain has been something new for me, and I’ve never seen it rain so much in my life. I am just floored with the afternoon thundershowers we have so frequently, although the lightning worries me sometimes, too.

Never seen so much green in my life, either and I like it a lot.

By the way, I checked out your blog – it’s a nice one! Mind if I add yours to my blogroll?
:)

Paotie

Paotie

Heh, yea, you can add. I don’t blog much anymore. I’m burned out on it.

This is the first time in years that we’ve had a decent amount of moisture. Back in May I took one of my sons and a couple of his friends down there to see the Tool concert at World Arena. I was shocked how green it wasn’t there; it’s usually the other way around. My sister’s FIL was killed by lightening; so yes, look out for it.

At this point we’re undecided about getting 76. We decided we’d watch the UFC website and MMA forums all week and see what the general consensus is regarding the whole thing. I spent all of that Sunday afterwards hanging out in MMA forums, which is how I found Kokonut. There are things I probably take too seriously . . .