Growing up in church

The quiet compassion of Jimmy and Jeanine tilled the soil where the seed of God's Word could be planted.  As mentioned earlier, they invited their pastor and his wife to come visit our home.  They shared with Mom how God’s love was expressed in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.  Not long after our move to the trailer, Mom found saving faith.  We began attending church religiously in the best sense.  

It was a lot of change in a short period of time.  One day I’m in a real house, most of my time spent at home with Mom and my siblings, living a care-free pre-school existence.  Next thing, I’m living in a trailer, headed off to kindergarten on weekdays, going to church Sunday morning, Sunday night, and Wednesday night (more on that later).  For the trailer park years, home, school, and church were my world.  Aside from Mom, school teachers and Sunday school teachers were my mentors.  

If a few hours a week in church is just a form of brain-washing, it is not nearly as effective as five days a week in public school.  My siblings responded differently to that early immersion in church.  None are in a church today, though they may hold to a belief in the Divine.  I spent those years fighting a battle between the person I knew God wanted me to be and the person I was most of the time: a chameleon who adapted to the surroundings of school as easily as church.  I cannot explain the mystery of why I responded to the call of God the way I did, any more than I can explain why my siblings responded differently.  

I need to say this right out: I believe in God.  But, most people I know do.  More accurately, I am a Credal Christian, a Christ-follower.  At my first ever Vacation Bible School the summer after we moved, I came to an understanding of my need for a Savior.  As a child, I keenly recognized right and wrong, truth and deceit, love and the lack of it.  I knew I could not be good, truthful and loving on my own.   At an early age I encountered a transcendent reality in that little church that I have never escaped.  That Life in me continues in spite of my doubts, fears, and failings.  Just when I have rationalized all my experiences into a logical, tangible, non-spiritual reality, something happens outside the boundaries, some trivial or not-so-trivial event that stirs the embers of faith anew, that reminds me there is One who knows my path and cares for each step.  My younger children probably wonder why I would even bring this up.  My wife, older daughters and a few others know that in spite of an early start and all the markers since, faith is a struggle for me.  And now you know, too.  But, I suppose that is why it is called 'faith' instead of 'certainty'. 

But Jesus said, "Let the children come unto me, and forbid them not, for such is the kingdom of heaven."  Matthew 19:14