Sundays Were for Church

Up until 2021, Sunday were for church. Sundays were God's day and that was that. There was no work. There was no drama. Nothing but leisure and rest. That was how things were.

Christianity was a big part of my life, but I must admit that through my 30 something years in Christianity, I questioned alot. Why did we have to pay money to God in order to be blessed? Why can't we get help after we've paid our tithes and offering? Isn't God a loving God? Why does God hate Gay people? Why does he hate trans people? If he knew we were gonna be like this then why does he hate us? Why did he need to send his son to redeem us if He's the all powerful God? These were the questions I asked constantly. I asked and asked until I was forced to sit with my thoughts and critical thinking skills.

As I write this post, I think back to the days of waking up early at 8am to bathe, eat breakfast, and get dressed so that we could head down to Switzer Mt. Zion Baptist, to hear the pastor, Rev Kerns, Rev. Scott, Rev. White, Rev. Tina, Or Rev. Pickens, depending on the era in which you attended. The choir would sing and depending on if she felt like it, the Holy Spirit would show up.

It never failed that afterwards, the family would gather at Sunday dinner and discuss the latest church shenanigan, secret family tea, and the obviously queer family members. The essence of Grandma's cornread, cubed steak, and macaroni and cheese clings to Sunday's breath as if Grandma is still walking the earth. I can still hear Mattie Johnson & the Stars of Faith belting for us "to be Ready for the Lord is Coming Back!"

Then as time went out Sunday's sounded like a good Pentecostal praise break. I was used to hearing my own voice sing Yahweh's praises as well as my hands commanding the piano's ivory keys to reach God's nostrils. Getting God's attention was fun until it wasn't.

Since when did God require me to abide by an oppressive system that says I am not valid. Who says I have to abide by a rigid, unrealistic set of rules just to prove I'm a human. I had this knowledge and ability before I met Jesus. Why does his Daddy say what the fuck I do? Why do I have to kiss the Bishop's ass to find God?

It took some time, but I finally found what God and Sunday mean. God is nothing more than a capitalistic venture, created to control those who refuse to critically think. While some can find solace in religion, I just can't. I have to make Sundays my own.

Sunday still sounds like music, but a new rhythm and a new melody. Sunday smells like cannabis and good food. Sunday feels like liberty. Sunday feels like sleeping in. Sunday feels like being in the house naked all day. Sunday is what I determine it is. Sunday has become a new tradition. It is a welcomed change of pace.

Sunday will always be precious to me. It's just according to MY will.