Gazing Into the Abyss

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By Bethany “BST2” Armstrong

I grew up in a Pentecostal Church. We had it all; Speaking in Tongues, Dancing in the Aisles, Faith Healing, a Charismatic Cultish Leader, Waving our Hands in the Air like Jesus is gonna Care. It has given me many interesting Twists and Turns in my Downward Spiral into Existential Dread.

One memory that sticks out is what my church called “the overly enthusiastic missionaries.” The grown ups were talking about how missionaries in Jerusalem were converting Jews… via torture. That was the first time I heard the term “waterboarding” and the first time I heard unholy glee.

“That’s great! They’ll get into heaven now!” I avoided those adults from that moment on.
One of my favorite memories was pretending to speak in tongues and watching the adults get all excited. Speaking in tongues was explained to me as “The spirit of God enters you and you speak in a language you don’t know. Then the spirit goes to someone else and translates what God said through you.” Every time someone would speak in tongues, another person always gave a Bible Verse. Always. God never had anything new to say. I was a little kid but my bullshit detector was already going off.

I think I was around ten the first time I faked it using hums, oogas, and clicking my tongue. Impish Impulsivity is Me. As the last bloop blip click left my mouth, I was kicking myself, certain I was going to get in Big Trouble. I was visibly shaking – the Spirit of God? – when from across the church a Lady started translating. I don’t recall what verse she spouted but I remember thinking “we just talked about that in Sunday School.”

When the faith healer came, we watched folks get “slain in the spirit.” They would fall down, roll around, and proclaim themselves healed. When my mother – the source of my stubbornness – went to be healed, the preacher pushed and pushed on her head, but she would not go down. When she returned to the pew, she told my dad “I don’t get it. He just kept pushing harder and harder.” That didn’t shake her Faith though… to this day she continues to pray for healing that never comes.

I don’t know for certain that there is no God. I only know that I’ve never known Him. I’ve cried out to Him many times in my life. I begged for healing. I pleaded for 8 straight hours on my knees for help. I tried to be a Good Girl. I prayed. I read my Bible. I memorized verses. I tried to live without sin. I did all the things I was assured would help me find God, but there was no God to be found.

So now I’m faced with the implications of there being No God, or at least No Loving One. That means there is No Heaven and No Hell. There is No Judgement. There is No Sin. Morality is Relative. As Hassan-i Sabbāh said, “Nothing is True; Everything is Permitted.” We’re on a rock, spinning around a fireball that will eventually peter out and Nobody put us here so there’s Nobody to care what we do.

That also means the great Evils of the World are not Tests, the fault of Satan, or our Sinful Nature. They are Choices. There are people with the means to house the homeless, feed the hungry, fix the environment, heal the hurt…. They choose not to. There are people enslaving children, abusing others, hoarding wealth, raping & murdering… by choice.

I find no comfort in nihilism. Having no purpose to my existence is horrifying. All the pain I’ve suffered was for nothing. All I’ve done – for Good or Not – will be forgotten. I will never see my loved ones again on another plain of Existence. The Abyss, The Void, The Edge… is all that awaits. I find myself eager to rejoin it.

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