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I was not raised going to church. My mom talked about god to us but I don't feel that she really understood much her self. Just the basics, Jesus died for our sins and that we should believe in god. My dad claims he is a christian but he has been an alcoholic for my whole life and I think he is lost. He goes to church with us on sundays but I don't think he really understands the realm of things. I started going to church again recently. I have gone in the past but have never been a member of a church. I am enjoying this church so much that the thought of it brings so much emotion from my heart. I can't believe I have had all of these past years without direction. There is so much more to christianity than just saying "I believe Jesus died for all sinners and I believe he is the son of God." I am not content with that anymore. I am eager to learn about the father, the son and the holy spirit. And I have three sons ages 12, 8 and 4. What a dis-service I have done for my children by not taking them to church and teaching them the word of god. We as a family are coming closer because of church and things that were important before are just not as important. I have never been baptized and I hope to do that this year with my husband and finally become a member of our church. I want to belong to this family of christians!
I hope that if anyone is reading this and finds themselves unsure of their salvation, that they seek the truth. Find a church and learn about Jesus Christ. You will feel so fulfilled in ways you can not even imagine. Reading the bible alone is great, but finding a family of christians outside your home and sharing the word of god and learning from each other is so revitalizing that your life will change in ways you can not even imagine.
And for those of you doing the works of god and teaching others what the bible wants us to know, well, I just can't say enough about you. God bless you and your teachings to others. Just make sure you teach the word as it is written and not create your own version. The book is written by the best and should not be altered to fit into our lives the way we see fit.
Let me tell you of the memories of church while I was a young child. I am 43 years old and these memories are still with me.
I could not have been over 4 or 5 years old, and the memories are in scenes.
I remember moma sitting and holding me. It was really dark outside and not very bright inside, the low wattage bulbs were few and far between the aisles. We were in the back, on the right side of our little country church. I was hot, sweaty hot and so tired, all I wanted to do was sleep. Yet, I remember moma rocking me, holding me safely and my sense of security...while in the background I kept hearing a loud male voice telling of God who hated sin and who demanded repentance of a sinners heart. Although his voice scared me, my moma's arms surrounding me were my safety net and I drifted off to sleep....
Same church, this time in winter...Once again, I was in Moma's arms, this time seeking warmth from the cold emitting through the simple frame church. We were once again towards the back, a long way away from the heaters that flanked each side of the old church. As I looked out the window closest to me, images were distorted as condensation ran down the cold panes. For some reason, I took comfort at the barren landscape I glimpsed through that watery window and once again drifted off to sleep...
Here we go round the Mulberry bush, the Mulberry bush...I'm bare foot, my pink dress trimmed in lace is smudged with the chalky-powdery dirt that kicked up clouds as we raced around one another. It's my Sunday school class and we are in break time. I love break time because we get to drink Kool-Aid and laugh and run around. Jesus loves the little children...we sing at the top of our lungs, happy and secure in our own small piece of the world...Then we sit on little wooden benches, facing the railroad tracks yonder down the hill...the morning breeze sifts our hair, tickling our ears and we giggle. "Shhsss...it's time for our lesson...Now, who can tell me about Jesus?" We all talk at once, wanting to be the one that gets to tell of Jesus sitting on a tree stump, a little child in his lap and a staff in his hand, a sheep stands at attention at his side, he is smiling down lovenly at the child...
Oh, we must be very quiet and I feel my heart go thump-thump-thump- as I walk down the wide aisle, feeling the cooling effects of being indoors out of the hot sun---up ahead, one of the older boys is carrying a pretty flag and everyone is looking so serious---it is graduation day--a special day to celebrate the end of vacation Bible school, a time to make our parents proud by reciting our Bible verse without making a mistake, to remember every line I have in the recitle and to remember that I cannot laugh or talk until we are dismissed....oh, I want to make my momma and daddy proud of me...
I'm sad, we are saying goodbye to our little frame, white Baptist Church. I love that church, with it's little side rooms that hold mysteries when I go inside them by myself.
We have a new church, newly built and much bigger than our old one. I don't know if I like it as well, the halls have no windows and it is dark. I like it when the big choir rooms are opened up, there is light shining in and hiding the darkness. I like the air condition that we never had in our old church, and also the heat that will keep me warm and I don't have to find the wall heater to sit by.
Oh man, my best friend and I are sitting in the pew, waiting for those boys to come in, they are just so fine....I have on my new Easter dress and my hair is up in a ponytail. Suddenly, I feel a hard yank on said tale and I turn around, seeing the stern look my moma is giving me. She whispers, you have to be quiet, you know you can't talk in church. Then I am standing and opening my hymn....chastized, I suddenly wish the boys had not witnessed this...
It's hot, there are so many people here at church..It's the last night of Revival and I am a nervous wreck--well--as nervous as a 14 year old can be. All week, I had been discussing my feelings with my best friend, B, and she said she felt the same way. I told her, "I'm gonna have to go up tonight, I can't stand it anymore...but I am scared to death, what will everybody think?" She feels the same way as I do....fast forward to the end of the sermon and time for the alter call and singing....Just As I Am....first verse...now starting the second verse....my heart is beating so hard I think it will jump out of my body, I am shaking, sweat is beading my brow and that funny feeling is starting once again....I punch B, she shakes her head no, I punch her harder, she looks at me..."But that thy blood was shed for me, To Thee Whose blood can cleanse each spot, O Lamb, Of God I come...I say MOVE....and it feels as if I am being picked up and floating in slow motion out that pew, and up that aisle....the preacher is standing there, he smiles and holds out his hand..."Just As I am "...he asks me ....I confess sins and say, I love Jesus and He is in my heart...I am crying.....
My church as a child???? A Southern Baptist Church, way back in the country with hell-fire and brimstone preachers that scared me as a child, and sunny and warm Sunday school teachers who taught me of Jesus and His love for me, red, yellow, black and white, precisous in His sight...to mild mannered gentle preachers who taught of love and forgiveness of sin...to preachers that had a combination of both...I learned of love in my church, of feeling connected to everyone there and of belonging....I felt joy and sadness and anger during my years at this church, yet, it is still a huge part of me, of who I am and who I have become....my church was my santuary, my social arena and my salvation while growing up. My church had God leading it ......
I was raised in a Southern Baptist church and questions were perfectly OK, I remember asking them. I am still Southern Baptist and probably will be for the rest of my life.
Let me tell you of the memories of church while I was a young child. I am 43 years old and these memories are still with me.
I could not have been over 4 or 5 years old, and the memories are in scenes.
I remember moma sitting and holding me. It was really dark outside and not very bright inside, the low wattage bulbs were few and far between the aisles. We were in the back, on the right side of our little country church. I was hot, sweaty hot and so tired, all I wanted to do was sleep. Yet, I remember moma rocking me, holding me safely and my sense of security...while in the background I kept hearing a loud male voice telling of God who hated sin and who demanded repentance of a sinners heart. Although his voice scared me, my moma's arms surrounding me were my safety net and I drifted off to sleep....
Same church, this time in winter...Once again, I was in Moma's arms, this time seeking warmth from the cold emitting through the simple frame church. We were once again towards the back, a long way away from the heaters that flanked each side of the old church. As I looked out the window closest to me, images were distorted as condensation ran down the cold panes. For some reason, I took comfort at the barren landscape I glimpsed through that watery window and once again drifted off to sleep...
Here we go round the Mulberry bush, the Mulberry bush...I'm bare foot, my pink dress trimmed in lace is smudged with the chalky-powdery dirt that kicked up clouds as we raced around one another. It's my Sunday school class and we are in break time. I love break time because we get to drink Kool-Aid and laugh and run around. Jesus loves the little children...we sing at the top of our lungs, happy and secure in our own small piece of the world...Then we sit on little wooden benches, facing the railroad tracks yonder down the hill...the morning breeze sifts our hair, tickling our ears and we giggle. "Shhsss...it's time for our lesson...Now, who can tell me about Jesus?" We all talk at once, wanting to be the one that gets to tell of Jesus sitting on a tree stump, a little child in his lap and a staff in his hand, a sheep stands at attention at his side, he is smiling down lovenly at the child...
Oh, we must be very quiet and I feel my heart go thump-thump-thump- as I walk down the wide aisle, feeling the cooling effects of being indoors out of the hot sun---up ahead, one of the older boys is carrying a pretty flag and everyone is looking so serious---it is graduation day--a special day to celebrate the end of vacation Bible school, a time to make our parents proud by reciting our Bible verse without making a mistake, to remember every line I have in the recitle and to remember that I cannot laugh or talk until we are dismissed....oh, I want to make my momma and daddy proud of me...
I'm sad, we are saying goodbye to our little frame, white Baptist Church. I love that church, with it's little side rooms that hold mysteries when I go inside them by myself.
We have a new church, newly built and much bigger than our old one. I don't know if I like it as well, the halls have no windows and it is dark. I like it when the big choir rooms are opened up, there is light shining in and hiding the darkness. I like the air condition that we never had in our old church, and also the heat that will keep me warm and I don't have to find the wall heater to sit by.
Oh man, my best friend and I are sitting in the pew, waiting for those boys to come in, they are just so fine....I have on my new Easter dress and my hair is up in a ponytail. Suddenly, I feel a hard yank on said tale and I turn around, seeing the stern look my moma is giving me. She whispers, you have to be quiet, you know you can't talk in church. Then I am standing and opening my hymn....chastized, I suddenly wish the boys had not witnessed this...
It's hot, there are so many people here at church..It's the last night of Revival and I am a nervous wreck--well--as nervous as a 14 year old can be. All week, I had been discussing my feelings with my best friend, B, and she said she felt the same way. I told her, "I'm gonna have to go up tonight, I can't stand it anymore...but I am scared to death, what will everybody think?" She feels the same way as I do....fast forward to the end of the sermon and time for the alter call and singing....Just As I Am....first verse...now starting the second verse....my heart is beating so hard I think it will jump out of my body, I am shaking, sweat is beading my brow and that funny feeling is starting once again....I punch B, she shakes her head no, I punch her harder, she looks at me..."But that thy blood was shed for me, To Thee Whose blood can cleanse each spot, O Lamb, Of God I come...I say MOVE....and it feels as if I am being picked up and floating in slow motion out that pew, and up that aisle....the preacher is standing there, he smiles and holds out his hand..."Just As I am "...he asks me ....I confess sins and say, I love Jesus and He is in my heart...I am crying.....
My church as a child???? A Southern Baptist Church, way back in the country with hell-fire and brimstone preachers that scared me as a child, and sunny and warm Sunday school teachers who taught me of Jesus and His love for me, red, yellow, black and white, precisous in His sight...to mild mannered gentle preachers who taught of love and forgiveness of sin...to preachers that had a combination of both...I learned of love in my church, of feeling connected to everyone there and of belonging....I felt joy and sadness and anger during my years at this church, yet, it is still a huge part of me, of who I am and who I have become....my church was my santuary, my social arena and my salvation while growing up. My church had God leading it ......
All i can say is wow, I was sitting there with you while reading great post
I was raised in holiness denominations. Nazarene and Missionary Churches. The Missionary churches were not found everywhere, so we would go to Nazarene or Free Methodist churches if there weren't any Missionary Churches.
In Kenya we went to Africa Gospel Churches. I am sure you are all aware of that church.
I was raised in a Southern Baptist church and questions were perfectly OK, I remember asking them. I am still Southern Baptist and probably will be for the rest of my life.
You were extremely lucky, or I am extremely unlucky. I remember one time in Sunday School (The teacher was the preacher's wife) We were talking about contemporary Christian music. She was of the opinion that all music written after the advent of rock was demonic. I wanted to know exactly what was evil about the music I listened to and she refused to give any evidence for her stance, and it became clear that she had never even heard any contemporary Christians songs I was just to take her word for it, even though she had no knowledge of what she was talking about.
It would be really difficult to convince me that a song that starts out
My Jesus, My Saviour, Lord their is none like you, could have been inspired by demons.
It got so bad in one Southern Baptist Church I attended the preacher told me I was reading the Bible to much. He said that if I were to read the passages sited in the Church literature that would be enough. The funny thing was that a Jehovah's Witness I had been witnessing to had told me the same thing about her Bible literature just a few days before that. When my preacher started reminding me of the Jehovah's witnesses I had enough and left that Church.
OP= Non-denom, Word of Faith vein. Mom was raised Baptist, dad Pentacostal. I am a Preacher's kid and our church was less crazy than the Pentacostals, but not as conservative as the Baptist church my mom was raised in (my grandpa was a deacon there).
Last edited by jeffncandace; 08-09-2007 at 09:47 AM..
Reason: changes
I was raised as catholic. I accepted Jesus as my personal saviour during an altar call after a free movie on the life of Jesus at a movie theatre. I was 14 years old and it was the first time I had heard of it.
Even though there were lots of things I DIDN"T learn in the catholic faith, when I go back there for things now, I see the good. It is their faith. It is what they know. Families go to church together. The word is read.
I came to find I had a special relationship with the Lord even as a child. I prayed to him myself, in my own words, and he answered my prayers.
I was raised Roman Catholic. I tried to raise my child Roman Catholic, but later switched to Lutheran. I chose Lutheran because it's most similar to
Catholicism. I wasn't trying to get away from the beliefs of the Roman Catholic Church. I merely wanted to escape the structure, oppression, and power abuse of the Roman Catholic Church.
Every church from The Friends (Quaker) to Grandmas Roman Catholic Church This is the reason I just claim part oin all of The Church which will be presented to God by Jesus one day when everything is finished.
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Memories of church as a child
great post
