The Very Begninning

Starting at the beginning with some memories that feel relevant to my current struggles.

When I was two years old my parents started going to a local non-denominational church.  We did full immersion baptism and believed in sola scriptura.

I remember singing The B-I-B-L-E song when i was really little.  I remember feeling proud.  "The B-I-B-L-E.  Yes that's the book for me.  I stand alone on the word of God (this is where the kids all stand up).  The B-I-B-L-E!

At Four Years Old we were taught by our sunday school teachers about heaven and hell.  We were taught that if we wanted to go to heaven to be with Jesus when we died all we had to do was ask Jesus into our hearts.  I was four years old and I asked Jesus into my heart all by myself.   Then later I was praying at dinner time and I asked Jesus into my heart again at the dinner table in front of my parents so they would know.

I learned very clearly that the order of importance is God first, Others Second, Me Third.  This was reitterated over and over and over as I grew up.

I listened to Psalty.  A lot.  With some Music Machine and Bull Frogs and Butterflies mixed in for good measure.  Oh ya, and Antshillvania.  Loved that one.  I did Awana, so I memorized a lot of Bible verses.

I was taught that all the Bible stories were true.  They really did happen.  I believed that the prophets and Jesus and the apostles did miracles and Jesus could still do miracles if I asked him to, if I prayed really hard, if I really needed it, and he wanted to.

One time when I was probably 6 or 7, we went to the pool.  My mom, my brother and I.  When we go there I noticed a catterpillar at the bottom of the pool.  I swam down to rescue it.  I took it in my hands and placed it under a chair.  I prayed over that little catterpillar for a long time.  At least it seemed like a long time to my child self.  I was so sad for that little catterpillar.  I wanted it to live.  Then after a long time of asking and begging God with deep emotion and desire, it crawled away.  I was excited and happy, but I don't really remember being ultra surprised.  It was basically what I expected would happen.

I remember one of my best friends shaming me, that me and my family weren't real chrisitans because we skipped church a lot.  I started going to church every week after that.



I look at this now and think it was a dysfunctional foundation for my Christian faith.  I think it's no wonder that I'm confused, conflicted and anxious. 

The practice of teaching 4 year olds that they will go to hell if they die is so appalling to me now.  I'm so so thankful to have spared my children of that practice.