In our generation, we like to think we’re rebellious, so we’ve thrown norms and things we’ve been told are proper out the window. We want to turn the world on its head. We’ve got tattoos and piercings; we wear mohawks; we dye our hair in all the colors of the rainbow; we cuss, we chew, we date people who do.

But we’ve gone and thrown away so much and in such large quantities that what was once edgy and rebellious has become trite and a little too easy to get, and those who hold onto the discarded goods have become the rebels. They’re the ones swimming against the tide. In my opinion, one of the largest items in our generation’s junkyard is God.

I met a guy not too long ago who I became friendly with very quickly. He had a quick wit and a sharp sense of humor. Like me, he was into quality techno and foreign films. Over the course of a few days we talked about music, art, Europe and ambition. We talked and talked like we had known each other forever.

And then I made a mistake. One day he told me an amazing story and I said, “Oh, man, Jesus is amazing.” Then there was a silence I could have sliced with a knife. He shuffled in his seat, his eyes dodged my face and darted around like he couldn’t look at me anymore. Then he asked as though he were inquiring about a flesh-eating disease I had contracted, “Are you religious?” From the look on his face, I wanted so desperately to say, “No.” I wanted him to think I was cool, to think I was worthy of being his friend.
 
“No,” I said. “I’m not religious. I’m a Christian. I believe in Jesus. Is that what you mean?”

That was what he meant. A canyon grew between us, and he hasn’t spoken to me in weeks. This is everything that I fear as a Christian: rejection because I believe in Jesus. Rejection because I believe there is a heaven, a hell; that there is a Satan, but there is also one Savior.

But I totally understand where he was: I was there for 18 years. I, too, am just as afraid of and repulsed by religion as he was and I believe our generation is sick of it. We’re tired of the childish bickering over the petty differences between the denominations of churches. We’re sick of churchgoers being more concerned that the guy over there has a blue mohawk, is covered in tattoos and looks dangerous than the fact that his soul is in anguish. We’re tired of condescending tolerance in church; we want real-life love that would even show compassion for the person who just hurt them. In general, I’m sick of the church built by human hands. I WANT RELATIONSHIP. I want relationship with Jesus and I want relationships with people.

The church is its own worst enemy. I understand why people would want to have nothing to do with it or with the God that’s associated with it.

 I’ve gone to church since I was a child and one of the most genuine prayers that came out of my heart every Sunday was for the service to end. Quickly. It was tedious; the pastor preached at me and looked right through me and after letting the congregation believe he was superhuman and they were less than human, we found out that he was flesh and blood after all when his “perfect” marriage dissolved.

I only decided to do this Christianity thing when I was 18, on the condition that I would not become religious, that I would not become one of those people who sat on their high horses judging others and shoving the Bible down people’s throats. All I wanted to do was love people, so I chose to follow a God who is love and who sacrificed himself because of his love of people. That’s the kind of love I want to learn.

Since then, I’ve struggled with the world, trying to hide my identity just so I can fit in and trying to resist the voice that tells me to quit every day. I’ve struggled with myself (who is more of the world than of God). I’ve strained my ears in search of the still small voice of guidance, comfort. It’s difficult living in a world with a generation that has been scarred by religion, that is in search of relationships. I sound like a deranged liar when I tell them what they’re looking for is back in the place they ran from. No, not in the church that men have built, but in the one that is Jesus.

But being a rebel is not supposed to be easy. I knew that claiming Jesus would give the world cause to make me a laughingstock and label me a lunatic. Being a rebel is not as simple as donning a tattoo when everyone is doing it; it’s a constant battle with authorities.

But rebels keep at it even when it feels like they can’t do it anymore because they know that the cause is greater than the workers. Perhaps this is a mindset that helped Jesus go through with the plan on the cross.

Adaeze Elechi is a junior journalism major. Email: adaezeelechi@yahoo.com.