Image by ecstaticist via Flickr
I suppose it must disturb some of the people who read this blog how much I’ve talked about faith, and God and my beliefs.
Because a lot of them know me outside this blog, you see. They’ve seen the wanton incarnation of me – the occasionally inebriated, sometimes foul-mouthed, and she-devil grazing the edges of scandalous. So it’s jarring to compare that to this person who talks about God, and truth, and love and faith and grace.
And rainbows and kittens and puppies, ZOMG!
The reality is that I would be absolutely insufferable if it wasn’t for my faith. If I didn’t believe in God, His mercy and loving kindness, I would probably have booked myself on the highway of hedonism with a one-way ticket straight to a messy, early death. With all my wild, wanton ways, I’ve never touched marijuana. Try and push absinthe towards me and I’d laugh and tell you I’d rather keep my brain cells intact. Plus Guinness is better for you, anyway. At least that’s what the Irish would say.
I am not free of vices. I do tend to get too wrapped up in the men I’m seeing to the point I can ride better highs than any designer drugs (which I don’t touch either. Brr) but then tend to crash and burn painfully, and quickly. Yes, I’m a sick love junkie, which I’m slowly trying to fix with what I call God Rehab. Trust men, just don’t put your trust IN them – people are fallible and weak so if you really must put your trust in something, then let it be in God or whatever higher power you believe in.
If only believing in God was enough to make you a better person. To tell you the truth, I’d be a worse person if I didn’t believe. Take me apart and you’ll see that the cog, the wheel that somehow keeps me still somewhat together is the undying belief that Yes, Erna, There Is A God. And that He loves me for reasons unfathomable to me.