today, i walked out into the rain, and laughed.

i still call myself a christian, sometimes. depending on the situation. recently at work, a coworker asked me "what religion are you?" i got awkward. like the way i used to get awkward when i was "really" a christian. but a different awkward. because this time, i was afraid of judgment in a different way. this time i was nervous about the fact that she'd know i was lying if i said yes. or ask me questions about it. i sort of awkwardly said no - just like i used to say no - only this time i meant it a little more. i didn't mean it like, "no, i don't associate with the term "christian", but if you ask me if i love jesus, i'll say yes." maybe i just sort of meant it. no. i guess i'm not. at least, probably not. or, maybe, i can say, at least not today.

i'm not sure what it means to be a christian, and therefore, i'm not sure what it means to not be a christian. so the truth is that i don't really have an honest answer. i can't really answer that question.

the other day i heard sufjan stevens and it made me cry. i was laying in the nap room at work, in the darkness, small children laying around me sleeping - and i'm crying. quietly and softly. warm tears in my hands. because i feel like the music is mocking me - making fun of me - taunting me - i am recalling the early days of belief. and listening to sufjan nonstop. i am remembering how simple it was to live then, and to be, and to love, and to make decisions. days when i would wake up early to pray, constantly reading and thinking and considering who i was, how i could be better, what i could do differently, days when i could close my eyes and face a God who was intimate. a God who i believed to be as good as my mother, and as sweet as raspberry juice on my fingers, and as gentle as the woman's touch at church who helped me put my coat on. i still believe this time in my life to be some of the greatest days that i may ever live. and they were true - they were so real. so blessed. and my life just isn't like that anymore.

so i've been wondering why i still go to church every sunday, contribute to the compassion ministry, spend most of my time with christians, continually seek guidance from my pastors - i still seem like a christian. maybe it's even unfair to say that i've been wondering about this, because the answer is obvious. it's maybe one of the only things i really know to be true. being part of community is good. life together is good. sharing burdens is the closet thing to good i have. there are moments of peace when the reality sets in that i am not alone - at all. to a person who values her alone, and her self, and her independence so much, it's difficult to come to terms with needing people as much as i do. i like being around people who are older than me, and younger than me. i like being able to sit down with perfect strangers and feel like it's okay to talk - really talk - about anything, deeply, honestly and as truthfully as possible. i like that it's okay to have breakfast with someone you've never had a full conversation with, and talk to them for three hours. i like walking around in circles around a field with someone who i hardly know and talk, vomit, cry out words, and thoughts, and feelings that were true, but awkward and senseless. i like being around people who are honest with me about their lives. i like that women who are 50 ask me to dinner because they can tell that being 25 is getting difficult for me. i like eating dinner with my pastor and his family, it makes love seem real, and simple, and obvious. i like going to a potluck with a bunch of disgruntled, lovely, smart, social-justicey christians.

i don't know what it's going to be like in a year - or who i'll be then. spiritually, or emotionally, or in terms of anything else. it seems like every period of doubt gets stronger, more difficult, more messy - but usually this is returned with seasons and periods of faith and peace that are stronger than the last. maybe it won't. and that's okay too.

in 2008 i pulled over a cop for running through a red light to later slow down and talk to a man on the corner in the hill district for 10 minutes, laughing jovially. man, i thought, i wish i could put my sirens on, so that i could hurry up and have conversations with my old friends too. after i pulled him over, and asked him why he put his sirens on to run a red light, i made it my goal to continually strive to be "more bold and more honest."

so, am i still a christian? i don't know. but i do know that i believe in the church. and this, theologically, might make no sense. but, at 1:49 in the morning on the first day of december, when it's rainy, and i'm cold and tired, it's sort of the best i have.