The problems begin with grace.

I would have made a fabulous pharisee.
I like parameters. Rules. Regulations. Law.
It makes me feel comfortable and safe. Do this, go to heaven. Do this, go to Hell. These things are good. These things are bad.
Simplicity.
I don't like messing up and it's harder to make mistakes when you know exactly what is expected of you.
That's why I found it easy to sink into an eating disorder. I LOVED limiting my food choices. It gave me a sense of control. Vegetarianism was a cake walk and when I discovered raw food veganism I was in nirvana. Not only could I eliminate whole food groups, but entire methods of preparing food as well!
So, you see, all those lists in the Bible...the "do's" and the "do not's", are manna to me.
Not that I don't sin. But, even forgiveness is kind of a law to me.
Mess up, ask for forgiveness, move on. It's what I was supposed to do. It was outlined, after all, and I love nothing more than a good outline.
Grace throws a wrench in things.
I almost prefer the law.
I don't understand grace. I don't feel comfortable with it. It leaves too much up to the individual. There is too much wiggle room. No outline. No dictates for behavior.
I know being a Christian is tied up in grace. The whole foundation of my faith is about not getting what I deserve.
Maybe that's why it's so hard for me to be a Christian. I can't wrap my brain around its most basic tenant.
I'm not really sure what I'm going to do about it.
I've struggled with this forever. Maybe it's my thorn.
Another problem I have with this whole concept? My heart is really black. I mean, my actions proclaim to the world that I'm Christian. If you base my salvation on what I do, or rather, what I don't do, I pass with flying colors. Don't get drunk. Check. Don't do drugs. Check. Don't have sex before marriage. Check. Don't watch horror movies. Check. Don't wear string bikini's. Check. (That one is super easy. I'm not sure I want the world to see evidence of two children.)
You hear all the time, it's not what's on the outside that counts. It's what is in the heart. I know that is supposed to comfort those that sport full sleeves of tattoos and the unfortunate effects of a wild youth, but it strikes fear within me. My heart is much less pristine than my outside.
I live in fear of the day I am exposed. I wonder when people will realize how terrible I am.
I know God already knows and I hate to think on it.
Life would be so much easier to bear if I could sacrifice a pigeon and move on.
I know, as a Christian, I can repent and find forgiveness. But, I've already explained my issue with that and I wonder, maybe I don't really believe I'm being forgiven. I go through the motions but it seems almost too easy. I feel like I should suffer for my sins. Like one of those ancient Catholic saints that whipped themselves with leather straps and slept on rocks.
It's disconcerting to realize after thirty years, you really don't understand your faith.