My conversion and recovery... Part 1.

“I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.” Mahatma Gandhi



My conversion to Christianity began when I was eleven years old. My mother had married her third husband, Tony Findling. He was of the Pentecostal faith. It had been quite some time since Tony had gone to church or practiced his faith in any way prior to thier marriage, but, apparently, the marriage had created a desire within him to re-dedicate his life to Jesus Christ. So, one Sunday he packed up the family (which consisted of my mother, myself and him) and we visited the Assembly of God in Spencer, Iowa. The service was interesting and extremely odd at the same time. The congregation believed in speaking in tongues, raising their hands heavenward while mumbling prayers in the air, annointing with oil, and laying on of hands. They believed in the literal word of the Bible and of a literal hell. They believed Jesus would rapture his church (the Christians..but, only 'certain' ones) prior to the tribulation and the rise of the Anti-Christ. They believed in repentance of sins, but not in secured salvation. Which means if you died before repenting, you would be cast in the lake of fire, unlike the Baptists, who believe that once "saved" always saved. Usually when you speak of unsecured salvation, the analogy comes up: If you were driving a car down the road and a tractor trailer came barrelling into your lane and crashed into you..and if you cursed out of shoke .. something like "Jesus Christ!" (as in taking the Lords name in vain)... then you would go straight to hell, no questions asked. Yeah, pretty hardcore stuff, especially for an eleven year old. So, we joined the church and was going "religiously" for quite some time. I went to Sunday School prior to church service. There were several things that kept me interested in going. One was, there were several kids that went to that church that I knew from school. They were fairly cool kids and I enjoyed seeing them there..also there was this guy who had Tourettes Syndrome. Tourette syndrome (TS) is a neurological disorder characterized by repetitive, stereotyped, involuntary movements and vocalizations called tics. Well, this guys tics were manifested by involuntarily saying "fuck" ..but, in a quick burst manner. He sounded like a chicken when he got going...fuck,fuck,fuck, pause, fuck,fuck, fuh fuh fuck. I could barely hold my laughter in! He ddin't go off every Sunday, but I always looked forward to it when he did. I turned twelve in March of that year and went to church camp. I enjoyed my time there believe it or not, but that's a story for another blog.

There is one thing this congregation did not believe in that affected our family. Divorce. Once the pastor found out my mother was on her third marriage and Tony was on his second, they, more or less, kicked us out of the church. So, Tony decided we would go to the United Pentecostal Church across town. This church much more "alive" than the Assembly of God Church. In Alive, I mean... take all that I told you about Assmbly of God and multiply it by fifty! These people were dancing in the isles and passing out. They were loud and abnoxious. One of the elders on stage would "be filled with the holy spirit" and speak in tongues. When he did this the whole church became hushed. Following his performance, another man would "interpret" his ramblings and all who heard believed it was a word from God himself! It was quite a produciton. I was literally frightened! But, we went anyway and we became members of that church. It was in that church when I first acted on an invitation from the pastor to accept Jesus as my personal lord and savior and was baptised. I was serious about it, too! I talked to Jesus every chance I got. Mainly when I would walk the streets of Spencer. He was like a buddy and I'm sure I had more than one person pass me by and wonder if I had lost my mind because I was talking to myself. I got into Christian music like Petra and Carmen. I filled my life with Christianity. We would go to church whenever the doors were open and I willingly went. I willingly opened my mind to the doctrines and dogma being preached by these "men of God." I truly felt I had a personal relationship with this God-man named Jesus. He would listen to all of my worries. I just knew he would intervene on my behalf if only I believed enough and it was a righteous enough of thing then I was golden. Problem was, no prayer was ever answered. Whenever I brought this up to those I respected, trusted in the church, excuses would always be made. Either it was my lack of faith or it was God's decision not to answer. Either way I thought it was shit. So, I tried harder.

My mother and Tony divorced and that is definitely a blog for another time. Following the divorce my mother and I continued to go to the United Pentecostal Church. After being in the church for several years, my faith was waning, but I went with my mother because that's what my mother wanted to do. My job was to keep my mother happy as best I could and if that meant going to this church..it was fine by me. By then, I was rebelling. I had gotten into heavy metal music. I would wear Metallica t-shirts and tight holey jeans to church. I was begging anyone to say anything to me. I wanted to go off. I began to reject it all. What truly turned me away from the church was an incident so vile, at least in my book, that it literally pushed me over the edge.. to the dark side so to speak..lol.

A traveling music group had visited the church. My mother thought they were spectacular! Following the show, they were selling cassette tapes and books they had written at the back of the sanctuary. Mom could not afford a tape, but she soo wanted one. So, my mother had asked my Sunday school teacher and a man that was trusted and respected by both of us, if they would make a copy of the tape they had bought. They hesitantly said yes..

I was dropped off at my apartment building by a friend, the school day had ended. I bounded the stairs and burst into the my apartment, happy to be home. There sat my mother on her knees, in front of a small boom box, crying. I stopped dead in my tracks. Nothing could have surprised me more. You've got to understand how I feel about my mother. I am extremely over protective about her. She is as much my child and I am hers. (That's another blog as well, GAWD you people who are reading this are gonna get it all, aren't you? I guess I'm an open book...lol. That is if you continue to follow me and I don't scare you away). So, I was instantly pissed.

"Mom, what's the matter".. I asked. She, of course tried to hide it. "Nothing honey" she said as she wiped her tears away. Not very convincing at all..lol. I didn't get a word out of her. So, I surmised the tape she was listening to was the problem. I stole it when she wasn't looking, went to my room and put it into my walkman. Turns out, the dumbasses didn't press dubbing when they were copying the tape. So, they recorded not only the music, but the conversation these "church going people" had about her while taping. All I can say is, it wasn't nice. They said many horrible things about my mother, not even knowing they were being recorded. That's when I put my foot down and turned away from the church.

I joined the military, Army to be more specific, following my graduation. I met and married my first wife Gloria, who was from East Bend, NC. She was raised Baptist. She was as sick of it as I was, but following our marriage, we decided to give church another try. We went to a Baptist Church. Baptist services are quite a bit different than Pentecostal services and I liked what I was seeing. I re-dedicated my life to Jesus Christ and was baptised again. I was gung-fucking-ho. I mean...I was on fire for the Lord! I took the Bible wherever I went. I participated in visitations. (That's when you knock on doors and try to convert the lost). I would join Sgt. Maddox (a man I served with) and hand out Bibles to prisoners while he preached the Gospel. After being in that churc for some time, I noticed things about the people I worshipped with. They were like robots, only believing in what the pastor preached. I read the Bible independantly and had many questions. There seemed to be one major rule in that church. You do not ask questions! You do not question the Bible! You do not question God. We ended up leaving that church. I remeber one day, a few church members visited our home. I had just poured a nice tall glass of beer and Gloria (my wife at the time) were playing the latest version of Mortal Kombat on our brand spanking new Super Nintendo. They knocked on the door, I opened it and invited them in. They took one look at the glass of beer and started quetsioning. Started preaching. I kindly told them to hit the road and they promptly did.

Following my graduation from funeral service college. Gloria and I decided to attend to her parents church. It was more of "keep the family happy" deal for both of us than anything else. But, again I fell into the trappings of Christianity. I, again was on fire for the Lord! I wanted, more than anything, for these elders and Christian men to respect me as I had respected many throughout my Christian walk. I would go to church as much as I could. I participated, gave my money, and input. I was gaining the reputation I desired. Then I started to read the Bible again. Again questions. Again shunned. We left the church.

(Sorry so long.. I just wanted to get my history in...so that I cannot be accused of never giving Christianity a try..lol.) Part 2 to follow. I hope it's a bit more entertaining than this one was. I'm new to blogging..so, forgive me. LOL.