Middle school was a new time in my life; I found new friends and activities and found myself drifting away from Harlan and John. We were still friends but we each headed in our own direction. John went with me to church from time to time and I’m pretty sure he began trusting God.
I continued to go to church, and at fifteen I gave my life to Christ at a church camp in Ohio. I was well aware there were some problems with the duplicity of the leadership at my church but I was sure I had met God and I wanted to live my life for him.
I came back from church camp and was baptized at my church. My dad was baptized with me, it was a wonderful thing. Dad had found God in a foxhole during WWII, but had never been baptized. It’s been awesome to have that memory over the years.
I dove headlong into the theology and philosophy of my church, but could not understand how being “saved” seemed to be more of a club than a calling. I knew Jesus loved me, but I couldn’t understand why that message was mixed with the misanthropic disdain for those who would not change their ways.
I heard from the pulpit about how Satan led an army of gays, rock and rollers, Catholics, Jews, unbelievers, and every other group who didn’t follow their beliefs. They made it clear to me that most everyone who didn’t believe what they did was destined for hell.
They explained how I should turn my back on those who wouldn’t turn from their evil ways. It’s funny now but in retrospect they talked way more about staying out of hell then they did about a loving God who offered heaven.
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