[Untitled] Words by Sarah McCollum Photo by Sophie Warrick
I’m starting a church. In this church my God will take on any persona needed. They will be beautiful and full of grace. So powerful that you can see only them. They did not create the universe in 7 days rather 24 hours because tomorrow they have more pressing matters to attend to. My God will remind me everyday that I don’t want to die. That I don’t have to die to reach a heaven. I just need to breath and keep breathing to find solace in a world I thought I could leave behind. My God can be our God. Our God will not use their omnipotence to instill worry that we are not good enough. Our God will not act as my stalker, claiming to love and care for me while making me fear for my life. Our God did not give us one day of rest. They gave us as much rest as needed until we can stand on our own to declare the love they have shared with us while we sat on our beds scanning the room for a sign. Oh lord will they give us signs. Every shooting star and fallen eyelash will grant our wishes because our god believes in magic. In my church we don’t make promises we can not keep. In my church we keep our secrets in a bucket that overflows only when we are ready. Our God will sit patiently listening to our every regret knowing that they cannot help but the words flowing off our vocal cords are enough to make us believe that our God cares. They will give us protection when we need it and independence when we don’t.Your God will be the mother you always longed for and the friend I always had. We don’t leave any question unanswered because in my church we speak like a debate team preparing for nationals. We don’t leave confused. We don’t leave putting our problems on our gods shoulders. We pace back and forth until we find a solution to the issues we thought we couldn’t face. We worship a God so holy that communion wine becomes communion anything you feel like drinking for the next six hours. We don’t dress in our Sunday best trying to impress them.You walk in confident, wearing last night’s mistake. I stride in, staring at the floor, wearing my best friend’s clothes I refuse to get rid of. We’ll come as we are: broken, boisterous, and beautiful. So yes, I am starting a church. Will you follow me? Spring 2019 | 27
