In October 1991, I was formally baptized into the Southern Baptist
faith in the same church that my ancestors helped to establish some
100 years prior. I was two months shy of being ten years old.
Baptism is the spiritual rite of passage for Protestants. However, at
that time, for me, it was like buying those L.A. Gear sneakers that lit
up when you walked: you did it because everyone else was doing it.
And by October 1991, I really wanted to be baptized. Just months
earlier, I was probably the first (perhaps only) person in the history
of the church to be sent BACK down the aisle (for those of you
heathens, that means that the preacher didn't think I understood
what I was doing when I made my 'profession of faith'.) And although
the preacher--a kind, charismatic man adored by the congregation--
was right, it earned him the permanent disdain of my God-fearing
father, who was both outraged and more than likely a little
embarrassed. Even though my second trip down that aisle was much
more productive, it, too, should have probably never been condoned.
The years that followed at that church largely sucked. My brother and
I always felt like outcasts there; we either weren't 'country' enough or
caught hell (bad pun) from others by not having the skills to 'give it all
we had for the Lord' on the church basketball/softball teams. An over-
bearing youth minister who didn't seem to like youth was hired and
faith in the same church that my ancestors helped to establish some
100 years prior. I was two months shy of being ten years old.
Baptism is the spiritual rite of passage for Protestants. However, at
that time, for me, it was like buying those L.A. Gear sneakers that lit
up when you walked: you did it because everyone else was doing it.
And by October 1991, I really wanted to be baptized. Just months
earlier, I was probably the first (perhaps only) person in the history
of the church to be sent BACK down the aisle (for those of you
heathens, that means that the preacher didn't think I understood
what I was doing when I made my 'profession of faith'.) And although
the preacher--a kind, charismatic man adored by the congregation--
was right, it earned him the permanent disdain of my God-fearing
father, who was both outraged and more than likely a little
embarrassed. Even though my second trip down that aisle was much
more productive, it, too, should have probably never been condoned.
The years that followed at that church largely sucked. My brother and
I always felt like outcasts there; we either weren't 'country' enough or
caught hell (bad pun) from others by not having the skills to 'give it all
we had for the Lord' on the church basketball/softball teams. An over-
bearing youth minister who didn't seem to like youth was hired and
brought my differences to light. He was prone to humiliating the youth
publicly, and he took those in the church that I had known my entire
life into his corner. Instead of feeling God's love, I felt shamed.
Disgusted with the situation, I stayed long enough to watch his
resignation one Sunday--and soon afterwards wrote my own letter of
resignation to the church. It was read aloud in a post-service business
meeting, much to my parents' mortification. At just barely fourteen
years of age, it was my first real demonstration of independence.
Within two Sundays, I had joined the church down the street; a
Disciples of Christ (Christian) congregation. To this day, I'm still not
sure which was the bigger blow to my parents: coming out as Gay or
leaving the Southern Baptist faith.
With the exception of a mentally unstable preacher's wife who threw
the entire youth group out of the church, my experience at the
Disciples of Christ was very welcoming and good for me --if only in a
life into his corner. Instead of feeling God's love, I felt shamed.
Disgusted with the situation, I stayed long enough to watch his
resignation one Sunday--and soon afterwards wrote my own letter of
resignation to the church. It was read aloud in a post-service business
meeting, much to my parents' mortification. At just barely fourteen
years of age, it was my first real demonstration of independence.
Within two Sundays, I had joined the church down the street; a
Disciples of Christ (Christian) congregation. To this day, I'm still not
sure which was the bigger blow to my parents: coming out as Gay or
leaving the Southern Baptist faith.
With the exception of a mentally unstable preacher's wife who threw
the entire youth group out of the church, my experience at the
Disciples of Christ was very welcoming and good for me --if only in a
spiritually transitional way. When I first arrived, I discovered that I
could put my musical talents to use for God, and through lessons
became the church's organist--the same position held by my
grandmother for over thirty-five years. (Interestingly enough,
although Granny played the organ at the Christian Church every
Sunday, she was a lifelong member of and regularly gave offerings to
Sunday, she was a lifelong member of and regularly gave offerings to
the Baptist Church.) Still, even after becoming heavily involved in the
youth and musical aspects of the congregation, something was missing.
The words of the hymns and prayers held little meaning for me. After
leaving Waddy upon graduation, I quietly began to explore other faiths.
In the years that followed, I went through an enlightening period in
which I developed a form of beliefs that included a Higher Power, but
did not include Jesus Christ or a particular religion. By 2004, I had
politely rejected the Christianity of my upbringing, but still knew that
there was something greater out there than myself; that something/
someone is watching over me. I became content with my conviction
that hell and heaven are trials and triumphs on Earth. I got comfort in
believing that my God doesn't hate, doesn't require fear and loves
unconditionally, and that a big part of who and what I define as God
--lies in me. I started taking positive points from a multitude of
--lies in me. I started taking positive points from a multitude of
religions/ spiritualities (Quaker, Unity, Taoism, etc.) and ultimately
found my way to the Unitarian Church, a creedless faith which
subscribes to the same multitude of religions--but not one over
another. In taking from the ideas/beliefs of multiple faiths, I have
found a place where I am contented, comforted and allowed to be
curious.
Taking beliefs from different spiritualities/religions works for me.
Believing in a literal interpretation of the Bible works for many. And
Taking beliefs from different spiritualities/religions works for me.
Believing in a literal interpretation of the Bible works for many. And
there are some who get through Life through meditation and other
spiritual exercises. I'll never be one to tell anyone which path they
should follow. I can only relay my own experience: at the end of the
day, the Earth's constant changes and my own struggles somehow
seem easier--simply because I believe in something.
