Up to my mother's death, my family was not particularly religious. I vaguely recall attending a synagogue/temple a few times and observing some Jewish holidays but mostly we just spent our time together as a dysfunctional family and lived what I was told was a sinful life.
After my mom died, my father was "saved" and began to call himself a "born again Jew." We began to attend a small baptist church and I have nothing but fond memories of the community. It was such a great congregation with an amazingly caring pastor who was so genuine. His wife and many of the other women in the church became surrogate mothers to my sister and me and their children became extensions of my family. It was great...but I never felt right.
Almost everyone is familiar with the song Jesus Loves Me, but at the age of seven I just couldn't bring myself to sing the words. I loved singing and I sang all the other songs, was part of the church choir, but when it came to standing in front of the church and singing That Song, I'd just mouth the words and remain silent. I couldn't believe that Jesus loved me, I just couldn't. How could he love me when my mother was dead? But I went through the motions, prayed for salvation, was baptized, and tried so hard to believe. I'm not sure if it was the desire to please my father, my church family, or just a desperate attempt to find some solace in faith, but I tried for years. Of course the kindness and nurturing I received in that church made it easier to believe in the kindness and love of Christ, but it never felt right.
Then one day we stopped attending the church. I don't know why, but we just stopped going and lost contact with most of the friends we'd made. I recall my father "church shopping" somewhat, but it's vague and confusing. I remember going to a hotel room for a service, but it was so odd and bizarre with people yelling and falling on the floor. There was a lot of shouting. We went to see many big name preachers like R.W. Shambach (who was known to me as the Screaming Preacher) at convention centers and it was just so odd to see faith healing in person.
Around the time my dad met my step mother he began attending a non-denominational church. I'm not sure if she introduced him to the church or if it was a step he took on his own, but we went from a traditional baptist service of Sunday school, hymns, and children's church to one of praise and worship, a short service for the family, and then children's church/youth group. I was 11 at the time and sort of bordered on the line of children's/youth group, and when we first attended the church I went with my sister to children's church a few times before my father forced me to begin youth group.
My youth services moved away from a fun environment with crafts and songs to one of a more mature pursuit of a walk with the lord. It was such a drastic change from what I'd grown up with to that point. I was told that my view of christianity was wrong, they called it "merit badge christianity" given the once saved, always saved view of the baptist church doctrine. Suddenly I was faced with the potential of sin and how it could utterly destroy me. Asking for forgiveness before bedtime in my evening prayer was no longer sufficient, I must constantly beg for forgiveness and realize my sinful nature that must be purged. I was a creature of sin, unclean, tainted, and the only way to achieve salvation was to seek a life of submission to the lord and a hand in hand walk with him.
It was confusing to say the least.
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