Bible Study Breakup Letter -- I Leave The Cult After 5-1/2 years

This is the most difficult letter I have ever had to write. It is, in a sense, a useless gesture of respect and consideration (of which I am totally devoid).  I am leaving you all and am determined to have a go at life outside the confines (not too subtle choice of words there) of the Bible Study of which I have been a part for the last 5+ years. 

No one has wronged me or treated me unkindly. Were it not for my own stubborn will and many other character flaws, I should be glad to have any and all of you as my intimate friends. But your friendship comes with a price, the complete sacrifice of myself and subjection to the discipline and structures of Bible Study.

I have grown first lax, then indifferent, then cold and then hostile toward the Structure and the program you all cherish. I once cherished it too, but something happened. I can't explain. I began to desire more "freedom" at a time when restrictions were getting tighter. As Bible Study got more unified and corporate, I wanted to be more separate and individual.

I don't know what planted the first seeds of apostasy in me or why I never tried to stop its taking root. Who knows. Why did I stay this long if only to fall away now? Many reasons. I had hope. For a time, I had hope of eventually turning it around, knowing it would take 100% to do this and just kind of slouching along, saying, "Yeah, but... tomorrow... next week... next month." 

But the self-deception that I would ever change could only last so long. Next, came the trying to get away with being 90% Christian, fully into Bible Study, outwardly 100%, if it didn't take too much effort. But the amount of effort to maintain the deception just took me further down the road of apostasy. 

I wanted everyone to like me and still be my friend. I partook of the good times (if the focus wasn't too intense on any aspect of Bible Study, teachings, worship). I was basically being a hidden reef, a cloud without rain, a tree without fruit, a wolf in sheep's clothing, devoid of the Spirit, an imposter, a fake, a liar and a hypocrite.

I had no desire to disobey certain Bible Study Regulations or Christian Principals. But on the whole I find myself taking less and less joy with corporate activities (esp. when they involve staying up late or going to fellowship after). I can't expect to just go on like that and get anywhere in the faith. I would have to undergo a change in character which I do not have the will or desire to effect. 

As immature as it sounds and is: I just want to do what I want, when I want. This issue isn't fishing or listening to worldly music or buying this or that thing. It's the whole thing. The having to "ask," the having to be on a schedule, the non-optionalness, the lack of time to do anything else. It's just the same as any other apostate, only I have covered it so well for so long.

Anyway, by now you are probably sick of hearing about my wicked heart and its wicked reasons for why I am leaving -- I have left. I hope not too many things are left hanging. I will not be a presence the way others have. I don't have an address at this point and the only way I can be reached is at work. However, I don't want to be called and questioned or preached to.

I left without one single thing negative to say about Bible Study to anyone. Now I am gone. I still don't say that it is Bible Study that is wrong -- I know that it is me that is wrong. Everything about me is wrong, from the deceit to leaving. But until I actually want and desire the things that Bible Study provides, it will be a useless struggle to remain a disciple. I have trampled underfoot all that is sacred. I can only be an enemy.

I wish it were not this way. I don't have malice toward anyone personally. In my own stupid, faithless stubborn way, I love you. That's why I couldn't bear to say good bye or go the route of hanging around, but not being in, Bible Study and having you all shun me. That is why I stayed so long, enduring the nights we met late or often, and stayed with the normal routine. 

You are my only friends in the world, but I simply cannot be forced into something which I don't want. 

I could go on and on, back and forth with this, but I'll not make you suffer to hear it. I will go on with what's left of my empty life, alone and aware of the fact that sooner or later, I am destined to die. And I will be faced with my folly and with the question: "What about God?" 

Goodbye.

Once a brother, 

Andrew

For Tina (6-18-89 sappy Cult Era love poetry)

When I think about you, it only gets me in trouble

‘Cause I get distracted and my temptations double

It’s not a crime to wish we were more

Than distant brothers and sisters in the Lord

It’s only my selfishness that makes me scared to try

To really get closer, for fear I’ll be denied

But I keep alive a small hope that you think of me

Once in a while or at least occasionally

Years have gone by since I’ve had feelings for you

I’ve seen you get older, I’ve gotten older too

I’ve been resigned to observing, and I’ve tried

Not to let you know how I really feel inside

For every fool, there’s someone who adores

Every foolish thing they do, who knows what for

But I’m more the fool for thinking that my dreams can come true

So when you see me, giggle as I sigh

You won’t see as I break down and cry

But I’ll be harder to be seen through by you the next time

Drug addled thinking and gaps in my journal (1989-1993)

“Every day, every day, every day I write the book…” 6-18-89

NO, YOU DON'T, LIAR. Every day, my ass.

Response to Ruth Britton of 3 Burns Ave. Cheadle Stockport, UK (Personal Ad)

Hey, you darling sexy little Brit Girl, you. I am a big sexy American Man who wants to make your acquaintance. There's nothing I'd like more than for us to meet, become sweethearts, fall in love and live happily ever after. But first I'd better get to know you, and you me. And I am he and we are all together. COO-COO-CA-CHOO.

Let's begin with you first. Ha. Kind of takes the pressure off me. Ha. Ok. YOU: vivacious, sexy British Girl, 23,...let's stop right there. Are you really "vivacious, sexy?" If so, how so? You aren't a tramp or sleaze. No, I can't believe that about you. No. The past is the past. And anyway, none of us is perfect.

Are you looking to jump into a beautiful friendship/relationship that could blossom into true love? Do you believe in love at first sight? Are you a radical way-out punk rock girl living on the wild side? You don't look anything like Queen Victoria or Margaret Thatcher.

Um, what's your favorite color? What's your shoe size? What are your toes like? Your ankles? I'll stop. You can describe any part of your self that you wish to disclose. I will just be happy to hear from you. Even if it's just to say "Bug off, jerk."

So, about myself you ask? Well, as you can see, I am a wild and crazy guy. I have many hobbies such as basket-weaving and breastfeeding homeless kittens. No. Actually, I am a gay Vietnam Vet biker for Jesus. And I sell crack cocaine. No. I’m sorry. I really am into sky-cliff-scuba-sailing.

Not exactly. I do like to fish. And hike. And get lost in the woods for 20 years, surviving off the bark of North facing trees. I love nature, sunsets, sunrises, quiet moments and loud rock and roll. Oh, and other forms of music. Like Latin Reggae Jazz and Ballroom Bluegrass Fiddle Music. And movie soundtracks.

I look exactly like John Lennon’s long lost 1965 child when he had that secret affair with Mary Tyler Moore. No. That didn’t happen. I bet you thought it did.

So, anyway, I have my own spacious luxury 1 bedroom pad. Ok, it’s a dump. People get killed in the parking lot. I kill ‘em. I am ruthless. That’s why they call me “El hombre que no tenga la Ruth.” No. I really must confess. I only killed eight of them. That’s it. No, nine. Or ten.

Back to the basics. I play guitar, have a car, will go far—what do you want to know? I value friendship. I believe in honesty and love. I hate hate and racism and people who roll up their toothpaste from the bottom. I am a p---

oh, crud. Me flippin’ typewriter’s on the blink again. Pop ‘round an pick me up a new ribbon, will ye, lovee? And a pint of ale from the Rose an’ Crown.

Well, I am undaunted. I am a pretty good looking guy, as guys go. But I am being honest with you, I don’t seem to do too well with the ladies. I am not a loud and obnoxious guy like Bill, so I don’t get to meet crowds of flirtatious vixens. I don’t have a girlfriend or even a steady date. I believe in relationships, not barhopping with scumbuckets.

I am doing well financially in my job at the machine shop. My pursuits and outlets are writing and music. I hope to eventually become a writer/guitarist/actor/comedian world famous celebrity. And maybe I’ll retire to Green Acres with a girl who is forced to choose between a love for city life and her love for a boring lawyer and his fanatical dreams.

I’d just love to buy a Harley-Davidson and strap my woman on the back and cruise across the United States, and after that—the world. Try not to yawn, I know it’s not as exciting as investment banking. But hey—I am a dreamer.

Let’s meet, fall in love and live our dreams together. We can sip coconut slushies in the far-flung islands of the Florida Keys and raise swamp babies. Yes. Yes. Yes. I love you. You are beautiful. I’ll never forget you. Write me, darling. Be mine. By the way, I’m a nice guy. Etc. Etc.

Love and kisses.

Your new friend forever and ever (and maybe even after that)

Andrew

Expense Account Letter (from when I was still in the cult)

MAR 19, 1989

Gentlemen:

Your expectations are simply too high! No one, including my grandmother, could get a furnace out under the conditions and stipulations you have set forth without the aid of a supernatural deity, which none of you seem to possess. So, in retrospect, I think we could have avoided this whole nasty occurrence simply by ordering more cheese sauce instead of right wing-tip shoes. Is there anything I can do to make this whole thing up?

As long as we are on the subject of tartar, there are a few pointers which I believe will reduce the residue left by most chewing tobaccos (with the exception of Wood Stain, which I believe is the main agent of Soviet aggression in Angola). All jesting aside, this is a serious matter. As a matter of fact, it is so serious that I am thinking of extending it to nine innings and settling it.

One more note on the momentum of planetary dependencies. With our current technology, it is simply not possible to note all the inter-stellar changes in a person’s diet. I see no other alternative -- amputation! In just six short weeks you, yes you, could be off of your rocker arm and into a Nice Ice Tea armchair, with full robotics.

While in Central America, I noted the movements of some strange gypsies through the streets of GuataMeatball. There was no way to avoid running up quite a tab on the lunch wagon while they were around. Here, at long last is a list of my traveling expenses:

1. Stew and Gravy   $4.98

2. Weightlifting shoes  $6.00

3. Homing pigeons (sweaters and garlic not included)   $14.00

4. Sweaters  $1.00

5. Garlic (Imported from Chesapeake, North Carolina)   $299.00

TOTAL $324.98

Thank You -- Call Again