Therapeutic Letter to my Assembly of G-d Pastor

This is honestly a difficult letter to write. I've been trying all day to address it to the Assembly of G-d Church in general, but really, that's not working. I've been trying to figure out what my issue is with the whole church in general, but what it comes down to is this: I don't have a personal beef with an entire group of people. Oh, sure, it was your culture and your formation, and your entire worldview that led you to fail me, but in the end, you were the point of contact between my crazy ass dad and your crazy ass religion.

I'm furious, and broken hearted. It's not just that you failed to rescue me, but that you made what happened to me so much worse. Without you, and your worldview, my dad would have been a sadistic, perverted, drunken child abuser. With you he was a sadistic, perverted, drunken child abuser with G-d on his side.

I honestly believe that if my dad had not been completely deluded by your particularly poisonous version of fundamentalist Christianity, he would have had to try a little harder to blame me for my own abuse. When you promised G-d's divine healing for me, you gave him a ready-made weapon to use against me when G-d didn't deliver. You gave him the vocabulary and the framework in which to see me as culpable. You brought even crazier people into our church to say yes, the devil is in this child. Her infirmity is because of demons. 

Not only did you set me up, but you made me feel responsible. Oh my G-d. I cannot tell you how much of my childhood was spent in misery because of your sermons. And the altar calls. Oh, my G-d. How many times did I "get saved"? How many "rededications"? How many tears did I shed, kneeling by those old altars in front of the sanctuary? Didn't you ever wonder just what in fucking hell I had to feel so guilty about? Didn't it ever once occur to you that wasn't normal?

Did you ever once think "Hey, maybe I could offer some counseling and find out what is bugging her so badly?" You visited our house often. It was at least once a week. Every Sunday night after Dad got so ill, you'd come by before church, and visit with Dad. Then you'd pray with us. I still remember holding your hand as we joined in a circle. Your hands were warm and strong. You listened to my dad and you prayed with him. During all that time, all those words, didn't you ever once think: "Wow, this guy's insane and evil."? 

On that note, how did you sleep at night, when you held hands with us for years and years, praying for divine healing that never came? No matter what we did: more church attendance, more "love offerings", more "mission support", the steady tithing, giving of our time and talents, attending more and more "revivals", earning badges in Prims, Daisies, and Missionettes, singing in the choir, singing solos, despite all of it, G-d just didn't choose to heal anyone. How did you reconcile that? 

Knowing that what was wrong with my eyes was treatable, knowing that my dad delayed medical treatment for me based on your promises, knowing that by the time he gave up and allowed my mom to take me to a surgeon that it was too late for anything but cosmetics, knowing that the only reason he allowed it was because he was convinced that I was demon possessed and G-d would never do anything for me, knowing all that, did you ever feel a twinge of guilt? Didn't you ever think of saying "Look, man, going to a doctor is okay." Hell, didn't you ever once think of saying "Hey, man, if YOU can go see the doctors at the VA, then YOUR KID can have surgery." EVEN ONCE? DID THAT NOT OCCUR TO YOU?

Huge swaths of my childhood were spent completely dissociated. It's weird, but all those times that I stumbled down the aisle to the altar to repent, I never clearly thought "I am feeling guilty because of the sexual abuse." It was so weird, but every time it happened, it was like a horrible surprise, like something that sprang up out of the blue, and then when it was over, I would just not think about it anymore. I would completely ignore it. Yet, I was convinced that I was a terrible sinner. That there was something integral to me that was unacceptable to G-d. I would pray to Jesus, sing hymns, cry my eyes out, feel guilty, get forgiven, and then feel happy and joyful. Over and over and over and over. Didn't you ever once think "Man, something's wrong here."? Because I think I would have noticed. 

Did you notice? Were you guys gossiping about me when I wasn't around? Did you have a narrative? Did you know? Did you know what was going on and tut tut about it in private? Did you deliberately ignore it because it "wasn't any of [y]our business"? Seriously, I wish I knew.

P.S. That bullshit you pulled with my mom about college? Not cool, Dude. Not. Cool. It's been almost thirty years and I still wake up in a cold sweat worried that I'm wrong, you're right, and it's demons.