easter sunday, bloody sunday

I felt shame and fear this morning as my wife took my son to her grandmother's church for Easter. I drove in the opposite direction to work and later to visit my grandparents after lunch (the only redeeming thing I may have done today.) To make matters worst my mother and Benn went with my wife and son she he was to be dedicated today. Dedicated to what? The lord or some such foolishness. How did I let things get this bad?

Being from the Bible Belt, I was raised Southern Baptist. No we don't dance with snakes but we do believe that everyone else is wrong and going to hell. After experiencing the hell of middle school I began to question or at least look for answers.

How could everyone else be wrong?
How could everyone who was born and died before or around (it must have taken time for the story to spread) 2005 years ago be in hell?
How is it that so many different religions have a similar story yet have happened so far apart? And how can modern religions have such different rules if they are all derived from the same event/persons?
Why didn't the other apostles get published?
Why do we accept King James' edit of the bible?

I decided to just stop participating in a system in which I am wrong and will be punished for it for an eternity.

But it seems that I was not outspoken enough on this subject when it came to my wife. I don't know who she thought I was or what she thought I believed but I refuse to go to church. And will not advocate such ideas to my son.

I felt sick this morning thinking ahead to the day that my son asks or gets upset at the thought of his dad "going to hell." I do not look forward to that day or the day that he might try to "save" me. Yes I am taking this thought a bit far he's only 4 months old, but it might happen.

I still remember Benn being not too in to religion and he and my mom arguing. I remember her telling him that the "man" is the spiritual head of the household. Eventually I think he became that spiritual head, but that was after I left home, good for him, whatever, how cares.

I don't want to participate. I don't want to feel bad about myself and my decisions (which honestly seems to be the point of religion.) I don't want to be judged to be a bad father.

The most frustrating thing about this is that I thought I had dealt with it and it is still here.