It's not that I don't believe in God
It’s that I’m not sure I’ll ever have the guts
Hello—more on the alluring headline in a minute—I missed you all!
If you’ve been following me on Instagram, you might have seen my stories and my ridiculous (and gutsy, might I add) attempt to write 20K words in three days.
Well, I freaking did it.
I don’t think we know what a book (or a poem, or a piece of art) wants to be until we dare get close to it. From a distance, it deceives. Appearing to get clearer if we just squint our eyes a few months out.
But the truth is, we have to run towards it. Sniff it, lick it, turn it on every corner. And eventually, just write it.
I’m about 30K words into a collection of short lyrical essays, prose, and vignettes. Just this afternoon I pulled a shot of espresso without a cup under it. If that says anything. LOL.
I want to share a particularly tender short piece from the manuscript. Please hold it dearly. Thank you.
It’s not that I don’t believe in God
by Maria Giesbrecht
It’s that I’m not sure I’ll ever have the guts to say it like that.
To use a word so sharp. A sure word. A word that stinks of confidence like an expensive cheese.
A word, like a first fuck, you can’t take back.
The truth is, I am unsure. I think my belief in God is, and always will be a liquid taking the shape of my life. Sometimes it will flood. Sometimes there will only be a few drops—I’ll have to dig into the corners to wet my sandpaper tongue. I’ll have to get desperate.
I understand the concept of faith. I’ve heard it enough times from preachers with shoulder pads in their blazers and dating apps on their phones. From youth leaders who uttered Sunday sermons as sharp as a nipple through a blouse. It’s believing without seeing. It’s bowing to the word believe. It’s swallowing it whole—skin on. Unpeeled. No fear.
I’ll be honest again. That terrifies the night sky out of me—the fallen stars must know how I feel. It’s not easy trying to believe in light when the choice includes walking in the dark. Ironic, isn’t it? That Satan’s too-big-for-heaven sin was pride. Confidence. Arrogance.
Maybe this makes me a coward. Weak, even. For not being able to puff my chest out big and red and declare. For refusing to plant my flag on top of a religion and stamp my foot down hard. To say this is the truth.
I’ve spent much of my life in relationships out of obligation. Out of a feeling of owing something to someone because of their title. Father. Boyfriend. Preacher. These are not words, I’ve learned, they are expectations. Chores even.
When you say I believe in God, people watch you. No cleavage anymore. No 2 am Instagram stories at clubs. No poems that slander His holy name. (Even though my best poems are always inappropriate debates with God.) No exploration or wandering. No wrestling with the chaotic pleasures of this world to find out if they’ll tame you.
Here’s my last little honest, all wrapped in one sentence: I only desire to talk to God when I want to.
I figure if God’s all that and mighty, he’ll be able to harvest that want. Turn it into something steady, like a summer garden.
So far, I’m still galloping like a teenage horse, flying like a bird who remembers to call her Father once a month. I’m here, waiting.
What’s New?
Our writing circle Gather is opening up to new members ONE last time this year. We have room for just 30 poets and over 150 on the waitlist. If you’d like to snag a spot in our next writing circle (Sept. 1-Nov. 17th), join the waitlist here. This will be the last opportunity to join before rates increase in 2025.
The email invite will be sent to everyone on the waitlist on August 16th at 9am ET. Set a reminder!
Here is what Isabelle, a current member, says about Gather:
"It’s obvious Maria is a fantastic poet, but she is also a fantastic facilitator. She’s created something truly special. Gather is a fun community of talented people pushing themselves to be better writers, and I feel so lucky to be a part of it." - Isabelle Correa
Maria, maybe you're closer to the truth than you realize. If there's such a power, force, reality, entity, whatever - that people typically refer to as 'God,' then it's NOTHING CLOSE to whatever is described by humans, or preached by the organizing charlatans in their 'houses of worship.' Whatever it is, if it is, it's between the two of you, period. Directly connected to all living things. When I say, as I often do, that organized religion is the most spectacularly successful con in history, I refer specifically to the man-made bullshit that we are familiar with, used to control populations and to justify every imaginable atrocity that we commit. If you are inclined to the idea of religion, abandon that foolishness. If you are inclined to the idea of God, then don't overthink it - define it for yourself, personally, embrace it, and keep it to yourself.
Oh I can totally understand this. My relationship with God is the mirror image of what you have written here. I fear a declaration, a sort of pledge to this mighty power : it will make me a known figure, somebody who is expected to follow certain norms. And I am unsure of wanting that. God is like a book that I open every day, read a few chapters of, then keep it back.
This is beautiful writing.