My parents became dedicated Christians shortly before I was born, my mom from a nominal Christian home (you know the type: "Of course we're Christians; we believe in God and we're Americans!") and my dad from a nominal Catholic home (his catechesis at the parish was deplorable to non-existent). They attended a small, Fundamental Baptist church which split not too long after they started going there. For a very short time, they went to another small, Fundamental Baptist church, and then left that one, as well, for reasons of which I am not aware. They settled at yet a third small, Fundamental Baptist church, and, while I don't remember the first two, I do remember this one. It was called Tri-City Baptist Church, and it was small enough that we felt like family there. My dad headed up the children's church (we called it Junior Church), and both my parents were Sunday School teachers. I have nothing but good memories of that church. We had great friends there. My dad and some of the teens used puppets in Junior Church, and, while my sister and I were not allowed to play with them at home, we did get to listen to the tapes of the sketches whenever we wanted. On a few occasions (it may have been every weekend in the summer, now that I think about it), some of the adults and teenagers would go door-to-door, inviting people to church and telling them about Christ. My sister, a few other kids, and I would go sometimes too. Not only were we taught the importance of following Christ in our own lives, we were taught how important it is to tell other people about Him.
When I was old enough for school, my parents sent me to public school for Kindergarten, but private Christian schools up through my high school graduation. I attended one school for first grade through the first half of my sixth grade year, then, because I wasn't doing very well in that particular school system (which was organized like a public school), I went to another school (which used the A.C.E. or School of Tomorrow system*) for the second half of sixth grade through tenth grade. These two schools were, you guessed it, Fundamental Baptist. The school I graduated from was administered by a Pentecostal church (Church of God, Cleveland). Back to my childhood…
When I was old enough for school, my parents sent me to public school for Kindergarten, but private Christian schools up through my high school graduation. I attended one school for first grade through the first half of my sixth grade year, then, because I wasn't doing very well in that particular school system (which was organized like a public school), I went to another school (which used the A.C.E. or School of Tomorrow system*) for the second half of sixth grade through tenth grade. These two schools were, you guessed it, Fundamental Baptist. The school I graduated from was administered by a Pentecostal church (Church of God, Cleveland). Back to my childhood…
My parents sacrificed to send my sister and me to private schools. It was very important to them to give us a Christian-based education. This background laid a good foundation for my life. My home, my churches, and my schools all encouraged me to live a life dedicated to Jesus Christ. I was familiar with most Bible stories from my earliest years, learned massive amounts of Scripture by heart, knew all the books of the Bible (imagine how confused I sometimes get when going through the list and trying to remember to put in their proper spots the seven books Protestants removed from the canon!), memorized a small Baptist catechism, and was generally very well instructed about the Christian life and faith from a Baptist perspective. With all this advantage, I loved Jesus from the time I was a small child.
One day, when I was four years old, I was playing with my toys (plastic animals, if I remember correctly) and thinking about God, Jesus, sin, and the Bible. I decided I wanted to ask Jesus into my heart, so I went and knocked on the bathroom door because my dad was in there and I knew he could help me out with this. I told him, "Daddy, I want to ask Jesus into my heart." To which he replied, "Right now?" "Yes," I said. So he opened the door, asked me some questions to make sure I understood what I was doing, and lead me in a sinner's prayer (age appropriate, of course) right there on the toilet! And now, anyone who knew me in school in my teen years will understand one of the reason's I was so intense back then. My dad taught me by example that no matter what you're doing, if the Holy Spirit is working in someone's life and that person wants your help in committing him- or herself to Christ, you don't put it off for a moment!
As a child I loved church. Sunday school was my favorite time of the week, but I didn't keep my religion to myself or limit it to Sundays. I'd talk to people about Jesus, either my friends down the block or even complete strangers. I have vivid memories of swinging on our backyard play set one day, singing Sunday school songs at the top of my voice when a man who happened to be walking down the alley joined in my song. I talked to the man for a minute or two, assured myself he was a real Christian, then went running to tell my dad about this great fellow-Believer I'd just met. It turns out my dad knew the guy, so I got to meet him on a few more occasions. And once, I was playing at the neighbor's a few doors down when one of the girls got mad at something and said, "G*ddammit!" I was horrified! Not that this was a child swearing, but that she had taken the Lord's Name in vain! Sometimes I wish I still felt that horror when I hear people misusing God's Name today. And I really wish curses using His Name weren't so difficult to prevent from forming on my own tongue and passing through my own lips! (Perhaps you would be so kind, gentle-reader, as to offer a pray for me at this point.)
*It is too difficult to explain here how the A.C.E. school system works.
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