Coming Clean

Where The Road Began

My parents were both brought up in Southern Christian families. There were mostly Southern Baptists and Methodists in the mix, but, it has seemed to me anyways, that the South has its own form of Christianity that seems pretty consistent between denomination lines. You’ve got to go grab catechisms and what-not to really find out what makes them different aside from the rituals they do.

By the time I showed up in their lives my parents had become involved in a Charismatic church. I spent many of my formative years among the speakers of tongues. It has, in many ways, jaded me of pretty much anything good that could and does come out of those communities – even while I still very much believe in it all! But that’s another topic for another time.

I spent my first 8 or so years in a small, homegrown church that my parents helped start. I was very aware of their faith, and I asked a lot of questions about it. It was what lead me to make a profession of faith at the age of 6. What can a 6 year old know about matters of faith? Well, the only thing I can tell you is that I remember from that time that I was to follow Jesus. I was to learn to think like He thinked, to walk like He walked, and anything short of that was going to land me on my face (and I would likely find myself there anyways no matter how hard I tried). It has in many ways formed the core of my faith, though, I might be able to say it has changed some over the years, too.

I attended kindergarten and 1st grade at this small church as well. So it was very much a part of who I was. But that all started to change when I started attending public school in 2nd grade. At that point we began attending church on-again/off-again. By the time I was 8, church had become one of those things you just do when you get around to it, so when we changed churches, it wasn’t as much of a big deal as it probably should have been for me. I was pretty bummed because I was losing all my best friends, but a child can only do what his parents are going to do.

Public school was a big adjustment for me. Kids are mean there. I was picked on a bit when attending school at church, but that was nothing like what happened to me in public school. And kids encourage you to do bad things in public school… which I did not understand either. But, for the most part, I held my own in elementary school. I was a quick runner and a smart kid. So that kept me out of harm’s way during recess and made me the apple of the teacher’s eye during class. I was pretty well liked all the same, but children will take advantage of other children if they sense that they can. It seems that many people have thought that they can take advantage of me throughout my life, but nothing on a deeply scarring level.

Anyways, the new church was cool because I made a friend named Scott. He and I liked a lot of the same things. And we could talk about Jesus, which was even cooler. As a kid, I knew a lot of people either (1) didn’t know who Jesus is or (2) didn’t have much to say about Him. Scott was different. I had in him, essentially, an elementary accountability partner. I LOVED going to church so I could see Scott during Sunday school. I bet our conversations would be pretty neat to hear now… but no such luck. I just remember him being a good kid that I could talk and share with.

Just as I entered middle school, Scott’s family moved away. Church lost a lot of meaning for me at that point because then it was just about adults and the things adults do. I knew adults talked about Jesus, and I listened a lot trying to pull it all in… but adult stuff is for adults and doesn’t do a lot for a kid. The other children that were in my sunday school class never seemed to talk to me when it was just me and no Scott. And when you’re an island of a child in sunday school, there’s just nothing there for you.

Essentially, my childhood — that time before middle school — was a great time for me spiritually. It has probably laid the foundation for who I am today, though I’ve tried to tear it down a few times over now. I always remember it nostalgically, especially in light of what was to come next.

I firmly believe, never mind the tongue in cheek, that middle school is hell manifested on earth.