About the Author

I preached a couple of times in my home church, and one day decided that I wanted my mother to come to church and hear Her Son, The Preacher. I desperately wanted my mother to be saved, and I thought that if she came to church and heard me preach, then she would accept Jesus as her personal Savior and everything would be fine with the Universe. My mother said she would come to church. My mother actually said she would love to hear Her Son, The Preacher.

When I excitedly told the church leaders about my plans, they said my mother could only come to church if she wore a dress. You see, women could only wear dresses in a 1960’s Baptist church. No Pants Allowed!

The church knew that my family was poor. My mother had only one dress to her name, and it had blue sequins all over it. My mother got married in that Blue Sequin Dress. The Blue Sequin Dress was mini-skirt short and even being a dress, would not have been acceptable for our organized religion church. You can come to church in hot pants or a tank top today, but now is now, and then was then. My mother made sure her kids had food and clothes before she bought anything extra. There was simply no money to buy an appropriate dress to hear Her Son, The Preacher.

As a result, my mother never heard her son preach. My mother never got saved, and the saddest part was that it didn’t really bother me, all that much, until after she died in 1983. At the time of the Blue Sequin Dress incident, I did not think my mother would ever die. Mothers did not die. I did not yet know anyone whose mother had died. I believed there would always be enough time to have Jesus save her, and then time just passed by.

After she died, I made a promise to my mother that I would never allow organized religion or a member of any organized religion, to ever send another mother to Hell because all they had to wear to church were pants or a Blue Sequin Dress. I do not believe in Hell anymore, and I will not allow anyone to think they were being sent to Hell by organized religion!

Although I did not even recognize it, my personal battle against Christian dogma actually began in my mid-teens. The battles started out as minor disagreements with my pastor, the deacons of the church, and the Sunday school teachers who taught me dogma. I sincerely believed these people were teaching me the Words of God, but it turned out they were teaching me the Words of Themselves; their own interpretations. What started out as confusing ideas, because of my lack of true knowledge, became the dogma that grew into anger and distrust.

My anger and distrust were based on two simple premises. The first premise was that these dogmatic authorities’ interpretations of certain verses I thought meant something good for me, ultimately, seemed to demonize me, rather than proving the love of Jesus and God. Their agenda was not for me to be free and happy in my Christian faith, but rather to be bound and imprisoned by my Christian faith. The second premise was that I was obligated to go along with organized religion’s dogma because I did not know any better. Now, I do know better, and I will share my new understandings with anyone who wants to read about the death of many Christian dogmas.

Disorganized Christianity is my writing style, my words, my phrases, my emotions, my story, and not my editor’s. I hired an editor to correct my grammar, not my soul.

I truly and humbly believe Disorganized Christianity will be an ember for the firestorm of corrected biblical information that will follow with its publication.