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Conversions to Orthodoxy
- Thread starter Matrona
- Start date
Vasya Davidovich
Veteran
It has been a while. Part 1 of this conversion tale can be found in post #116 and Part 2 can be found in post #122.
Last line from Part 2: "... and I had yet to meet an Orthodox."
Early in 1998 I ran into a friend who enjoyed languages.
"Wat," said she, "You like philology, right?"
I nodded.
"I know someone who is crazy about philology, and I know you guys will be friends. He is studying Latin, and Greek, and Sanskrit. You have to meet this guy!"
So she took me to meet this strange fellow who actually shared my tastes, and there in a quiet library I met Marc. I knew nothing about him (other than my friend thought he liked philology), and he knew nothing about me. However, a brief glance at his workbook indicated that he was indeed studying Sanskrit and Linear B Greek. Wow. I was thrilled. We started talking.
Soon enough, in the nature of rambling conversations the world over, our discourse turned to God. I had noted his large Bible with all the icon cards sticking out. So I asked him if he was Catholic. No, said he. He was not Catholic, but Orthodox. Coptic Orthodox.
"What's the difference between Catholic and Orthodox?" I asked. I had a vague feeling there were differences, but I knew nothing about Orthodoxy.
Well, he outlined one or two differences. I wasn't paying attention, though. I was too eager to talk about my experiences with the Catholic Church and why it was that I felt that I couldn't become Catholic. Marc listened patiently.
At the end, he said (with a huge grin): "This is amazing! You and I believe the same things! You have to become Orthodox. Why aren't you Orthodox already?"
Needless to say, this got me thinking.
(More to come.)
Last line from Part 2: "... and I had yet to meet an Orthodox."
* * *
Early in 1998 I ran into a friend who enjoyed languages.
"Wat," said she, "You like philology, right?"
I nodded.
"I know someone who is crazy about philology, and I know you guys will be friends. He is studying Latin, and Greek, and Sanskrit. You have to meet this guy!"
So she took me to meet this strange fellow who actually shared my tastes, and there in a quiet library I met Marc. I knew nothing about him (other than my friend thought he liked philology), and he knew nothing about me. However, a brief glance at his workbook indicated that he was indeed studying Sanskrit and Linear B Greek. Wow. I was thrilled. We started talking.
Soon enough, in the nature of rambling conversations the world over, our discourse turned to God. I had noted his large Bible with all the icon cards sticking out. So I asked him if he was Catholic. No, said he. He was not Catholic, but Orthodox. Coptic Orthodox.
"What's the difference between Catholic and Orthodox?" I asked. I had a vague feeling there were differences, but I knew nothing about Orthodoxy.
Well, he outlined one or two differences. I wasn't paying attention, though. I was too eager to talk about my experiences with the Catholic Church and why it was that I felt that I couldn't become Catholic. Marc listened patiently.
At the end, he said (with a huge grin): "This is amazing! You and I believe the same things! You have to become Orthodox. Why aren't you Orthodox already?"
Needless to say, this got me thinking.
(More to come.)
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Vasya Davidovich
Veteran
Part 1: post #116
Part 2: post #122
Part 3: post #182
A little while later I was ambling through the University when I ran across Marc and some of his Coptic friends eating supper together. Marc promptly gave me half his meal. (Man, do I love Egyptian food. I would be happy if I kept Slavic Orthodox customs, spoke Greek fluently, and ate like the Lebanese or Egyptians.) He then invited me to join them for an Orthodox study group with a priest upstairs. Now, I had been invited before, but I had resisted going. This time, however, I had partaken of Egyptian hospitality. Not to go would have been offensive.
I went.
There I met Father "Max". To my surprise, he was not Coptic, but Ukrainian, and very approachable. After greeting us, he asked us if we had any questions this week. No one answered - they had no questions. Marc suggested that I ask a question instead (thanks a lot, Marc).
So I asked Father Max about fasting. It was a test question - a question to probe the priest's theology. I had been reading up a lot on fasting, and felt that I had a better grasp on it than any Protestants and most Catholics.
Well, the good priest thought this was a great idea. Lent was about to start, you see, and I had given him what educators like to call a "teachable moment." So he proceeded to talk about fasting. And in half an hour, he covered everything I had read, everything I had concluded, added a couple points, and then deftly wove the package together into a neat little homily on repentance.
I was stunned.
I was floored. I liked this priest.
However, as I was feeling a tad pushed in the direction of Orthodoxy, I didn't go back.
(The story isn't finished yet.)
Part 2: post #122
Part 3: post #182
A little while later I was ambling through the University when I ran across Marc and some of his Coptic friends eating supper together. Marc promptly gave me half his meal. (Man, do I love Egyptian food. I would be happy if I kept Slavic Orthodox customs, spoke Greek fluently, and ate like the Lebanese or Egyptians.) He then invited me to join them for an Orthodox study group with a priest upstairs. Now, I had been invited before, but I had resisted going. This time, however, I had partaken of Egyptian hospitality. Not to go would have been offensive.
I went.
There I met Father "Max". To my surprise, he was not Coptic, but Ukrainian, and very approachable. After greeting us, he asked us if we had any questions this week. No one answered - they had no questions. Marc suggested that I ask a question instead (thanks a lot, Marc).
So I asked Father Max about fasting. It was a test question - a question to probe the priest's theology. I had been reading up a lot on fasting, and felt that I had a better grasp on it than any Protestants and most Catholics.
Well, the good priest thought this was a great idea. Lent was about to start, you see, and I had given him what educators like to call a "teachable moment." So he proceeded to talk about fasting. And in half an hour, he covered everything I had read, everything I had concluded, added a couple points, and then deftly wove the package together into a neat little homily on repentance.
I was stunned.
I was floored. I liked this priest.However, as I was feeling a tad pushed in the direction of Orthodoxy, I didn't go back.
(The story isn't finished yet.)
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Strength&Honour
Active Member
I am a convert to Orthodoxy.
I was raised Independent Fundemental Baptist.
Married my sweet Greek husband, and since he had been out of the church since he was very young, I didn't come in contact with his Orthodox faith until the death of his father. My first encounter with the Orthodox faith was the funeral. I was quite sure that they were trying to pray the man into heaven, and a few days after the service my husband and I started talking about it. He really didn't have the answers to my questions. I kept bringing it back to "look, if he died without having Christ he isn't going to get to heaven because they pray for him" (now I know what was actually going on). As the days passed (in spite of my husband's reluctance, and with the invitation of the parish priest) we started to attend church with his mother.. We both began to learn more about the faith and intrigued, I began to really study everything I could get my hands on. One by one my ignorance and fears of the issues that "these people are praying to pictures" "these people are praying to Mary to save them" "these people are praying for dead people to be given salvation" "these people believe that taking communion is going to save them" were resolved. My eyes opened, and I saw the truth and beauty of Orthodoxy. I was chrismated three years ago. We went on to have the marriage sacrament a few months later and are continuing to learn more about the faith.
I was raised Independent Fundemental Baptist.
Married my sweet Greek husband, and since he had been out of the church since he was very young, I didn't come in contact with his Orthodox faith until the death of his father. My first encounter with the Orthodox faith was the funeral. I was quite sure that they were trying to pray the man into heaven, and a few days after the service my husband and I started talking about it. He really didn't have the answers to my questions. I kept bringing it back to "look, if he died without having Christ he isn't going to get to heaven because they pray for him" (now I know what was actually going on). As the days passed (in spite of my husband's reluctance, and with the invitation of the parish priest) we started to attend church with his mother.. We both began to learn more about the faith and intrigued, I began to really study everything I could get my hands on. One by one my ignorance and fears of the issues that "these people are praying to pictures" "these people are praying to Mary to save them" "these people are praying for dead people to be given salvation" "these people believe that taking communion is going to save them" were resolved. My eyes opened, and I saw the truth and beauty of Orthodoxy. I was chrismated three years ago. We went on to have the marriage sacrament a few months later and are continuing to learn more about the faith.
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Vasya Davidovich
Veteran
Part 1: post #116
Part 2: post #122
Part 3: post #182
Part 4: post #183
The interminable tale continues...
At around this time, a close friend disappeared. He was a dissatisfied seminary student in a liberal seminary who happened to attend the same Christian youth group as I. Liking each other's company, we also got together to discuss St. Irenaeus of Lyons and other interesting characters... until the day he disappeared. Where was Tyrone? Not in his usual haunts. Not answering the phone. I wasn't terribly worried (he was a big boy), but I did want him to show up sooner rather than later.
Anyway, one evening in May (I believe) of 1998, Tyrone showed up at one of the youth group meetings. He was glowing.
"You'll never guess what happened to me!" he said. "I've become Orthodox!"
It turns out that St. Irenaeus was incompatible with liberal theology (who knew?), and Tyrone had started searching. In the time he had gone to ground, Tyrone had found Orthodoxy and the priest I had met a few months earlier, and had been made a catechumen.
I didn't know this at the time. I just felt this inner cry that said, "I want that!"
By the time Tyrone had finished inviting me to Vespers that Saturday, I was determined to seek out this Orthodoxy (in my own time and in my own way, of course - I wasn't about to be forced). But Tyrone made Vespers that Saturday really appealing. There was to be a Chrismation, and a hermit was going to be there. Hermit? A monk? I came.
Anyway, I proceeded to spend the rest of the summer asking the priest every hard question I could think of. I then invented a few more. Fr. "Max" was exceedingly patient, setting aside hours of time for me and my questions. ... I liked this Orthodoxy very much. I just wanted to make sure the theology held together. It did. So, in September of 1998 I declared my intention to become Orthodox. February 13, 1999 I was Chrismated.
I have left out some interesting things, which I could add if anyone is interested. Like, how I chose my Orthodox name. Or how I panicked at the thought of going so far from my Baptist roots, and how my Brethren friend rebuked me. Or how a Calvinist friend unbent enough to attend the Chrismation (even though my own father wouldn't). Or I could mention the cost of becoming Orthodox in familial relations and romantic interests. In some ways, it was very hard. In other ways, it was the easiest decision of my life.
[EDIT] In a strange twist of fate, Tyrone was Chrismated a couple months after I was. He decided to follow the ancient custom of having Baptism/Chrismation on Great and Holy Saturday. Me? Well, I was too impatient for that. I wanted Confession. I wanted Communion. I wanted the Church. And I am so glad that I have found her. [/EDIT]
Part 2: post #122
Part 3: post #182
Part 4: post #183
The interminable tale continues...
At around this time, a close friend disappeared. He was a dissatisfied seminary student in a liberal seminary who happened to attend the same Christian youth group as I. Liking each other's company, we also got together to discuss St. Irenaeus of Lyons and other interesting characters... until the day he disappeared. Where was Tyrone? Not in his usual haunts. Not answering the phone. I wasn't terribly worried (he was a big boy), but I did want him to show up sooner rather than later.
Anyway, one evening in May (I believe) of 1998, Tyrone showed up at one of the youth group meetings. He was glowing.
"You'll never guess what happened to me!" he said. "I've become Orthodox!"
It turns out that St. Irenaeus was incompatible with liberal theology (who knew?), and Tyrone had started searching. In the time he had gone to ground, Tyrone had found Orthodoxy and the priest I had met a few months earlier, and had been made a catechumen.
I didn't know this at the time. I just felt this inner cry that said, "I want that!"
By the time Tyrone had finished inviting me to Vespers that Saturday, I was determined to seek out this Orthodoxy (in my own time and in my own way, of course - I wasn't about to be forced). But Tyrone made Vespers that Saturday really appealing. There was to be a Chrismation, and a hermit was going to be there. Hermit? A monk? I came.
Anyway, I proceeded to spend the rest of the summer asking the priest every hard question I could think of. I then invented a few more. Fr. "Max" was exceedingly patient, setting aside hours of time for me and my questions. ... I liked this Orthodoxy very much. I just wanted to make sure the theology held together. It did. So, in September of 1998 I declared my intention to become Orthodox. February 13, 1999 I was Chrismated.
I have left out some interesting things, which I could add if anyone is interested. Like, how I chose my Orthodox name. Or how I panicked at the thought of going so far from my Baptist roots, and how my Brethren friend rebuked me. Or how a Calvinist friend unbent enough to attend the Chrismation (even though my own father wouldn't). Or I could mention the cost of becoming Orthodox in familial relations and romantic interests. In some ways, it was very hard. In other ways, it was the easiest decision of my life.
[EDIT] In a strange twist of fate, Tyrone was Chrismated a couple months after I was. He decided to follow the ancient custom of having Baptism/Chrismation on Great and Holy Saturday. Me? Well, I was too impatient for that. I wanted Confession. I wanted Communion. I wanted the Church. And I am so glad that I have found her. [/EDIT]
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Vasya Davidovich
Veteran
Part 1: post #116
Part 2: post #122
Part 3: post #182
Part 4: post #183
Part 5: post #187
1. I didn't pick my Orthodox name. I had been reading about monks and monasteries, and found that abbots give novices a new name when they are tonsured. Since the Chrismation involves a mini-tonsuring, and a new name is assigned, I saw strong parallels between the making of an Orthodox and the making of a monk. So... I asked Father to pick my name for me in the best of monastic traditions. Father didn't like it, as he was worried that I wouldn't like the name, but I persisted. The day of my Chrismation arrived and Father asked me if I had chosen a name yet.
"No, Father," I said. "I'm waiting for you to decide." (This exchange had already happened at least twice before.)
So he told me that the previous day had been the feast of the Three Holy Hierarchs, and that he was thinking of Basil. Unless, of course, I suddenly decided I preferred Gregory or John.
I was Chrismated as Basil.
2. I had immersed myself in Orthodoxy for a summer and was very enthusiastic about it. However, my girlfriend indicated that she couldn't follow me into Orthodoxy... I decided to go to a monastery to think things over. I spent a week at the monastery and read through a third of the Bible ... and was more convinced than ever that I was to become Orthodox.
I returned to my home, still convinced, and then thought about my parents' reaction. I panicked. I decided that I could be a closet Orthodox... believing all the right stuff but staying within the umbrella of Protestantism. This is what I told the girlfriend.
The following day, I recounted my decision to a Brethren friend of mine, "George". George rebuked me for it. He said that if God was calling me to make a decision, not to go by halves out of cowardice. He ranted and raved, and quelled my last-minute panic.
So, I called the girlfriend again, and told her the change in plans. Then I called the priest and told him that I was ready to become a catechumen. This was in September of 1998.
[EDIT] Incidentally, George moved away to another city, and there did some fancy church-hopping. Ultimately he showed up at an Orthodox Church. He liked the soundness of the doctrine so much that he never left, and was duly Chrismated in December of last year (2004).
[/EDIT]
Part 2: post #122
Part 3: post #182
Part 4: post #183
Part 5: post #187
Okay, Verushka.Vasya Davidovich said:
1. I didn't pick my Orthodox name. I had been reading about monks and monasteries, and found that abbots give novices a new name when they are tonsured. Since the Chrismation involves a mini-tonsuring, and a new name is assigned, I saw strong parallels between the making of an Orthodox and the making of a monk. So... I asked Father to pick my name for me in the best of monastic traditions. Father didn't like it, as he was worried that I wouldn't like the name, but I persisted. The day of my Chrismation arrived and Father asked me if I had chosen a name yet.
"No, Father," I said. "I'm waiting for you to decide." (This exchange had already happened at least twice before.)
So he told me that the previous day had been the feast of the Three Holy Hierarchs, and that he was thinking of Basil. Unless, of course, I suddenly decided I preferred Gregory or John.
I was Chrismated as Basil.
2. I had immersed myself in Orthodoxy for a summer and was very enthusiastic about it. However, my girlfriend indicated that she couldn't follow me into Orthodoxy... I decided to go to a monastery to think things over. I spent a week at the monastery and read through a third of the Bible ... and was more convinced than ever that I was to become Orthodox.
I returned to my home, still convinced, and then thought about my parents' reaction. I panicked. I decided that I could be a closet Orthodox... believing all the right stuff but staying within the umbrella of Protestantism. This is what I told the girlfriend.
The following day, I recounted my decision to a Brethren friend of mine, "George". George rebuked me for it. He said that if God was calling me to make a decision, not to go by halves out of cowardice. He ranted and raved, and quelled my last-minute panic.
So, I called the girlfriend again, and told her the change in plans. Then I called the priest and told him that I was ready to become a catechumen. This was in September of 1998.
[EDIT] Incidentally, George moved away to another city, and there did some fancy church-hopping. Ultimately he showed up at an Orthodox Church. He liked the soundness of the doctrine so much that he never left, and was duly Chrismated in December of last year (2004).
[/EDIT]
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Alexis OCA
Secrecy and Accountability Cannot Co-Exist
Vasya Davidovich said:
That story was so cool. My dad's name was Basil. Father said I may not have to be chrismated because I was confirmed as an RC....I still hope I get to pick a name even if that is the case. I have some ideas.
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Vasya Davidovich
Veteran
Part 1: post #116
Part 2: post #122
Part 3: post #182
Part 4: post #183
Part 5: post #187
Addendum 1: post #189
3. Converting was hard. Oh, choosing the right and pure and best was easy. It was the follow-through that I found difficult. And, I have to admit, there are layers of difficulty. First there is the mild level of difficulty. Then there is the tough-to-get-around level of difficulty. Lastly there is the gut-wrenchingly painful level of difficulty. Broadly speaking, I had all three.
First, there were my friends and acquaintances. A few were staunch supporters of where I was going, as they saw that God was leading me... even if they didn't feel called to follow. This is a uniquely Protestant approach. However, most did not understand at all. This was rough. This was hard. And some of these opponents I greatly respected. I remember one friend setting aside an hour to argue the errors of the Catholic Church (and by extension, the Orthodox Church). Even my close friend Brian argued with me regularly as to how far afield I was going.
Second, there was my girlfriend. Now, while she supported me in my quest for God and truth, and while she saw that God was leading me into the Orthodox Church, she could not follow. Here was a year's relationship in jeopardy because of our mutual obstinacy and conviction as to God's calling. This was tough too.
Third, there was my parents. My parents are lovely people, and dedicated to God and their church. My father is a Baptist pastor, and a son of a Baptist minister. I come from a line of two generations of missionaries. When I declared my intention of converting, all heck broke loose. My mother - normally a sweet lady - declared Orthodoxy a heresy and called me a heretic, and my father proclaimed that I hurt him beyond comprehension in taking this route. They also decided that this was a youthful thing, and came out of my inadequacies and shortfallings as a person... my immaturity, in other words. There are no easy words to describe what these kind of attacks feel like, nor how much they hurt, nor how effective they are. Oh, I stayed the course. I grit my teeth and pushed on, but it hurt like billy-oh.
4. When the time came for my conversion - my Chrismation - I had many old friends show up, and acquaintances that I never realized were friends. Brian, the Calvinist friend who had argued with me for so long, showed up. George, the Brethren friend who had rebuked me, also showed up. It was a nice crowd. (The girlfriend couldn't come because she was too far away. It was probably for the best as we broke up - on account of differing theologies - a couple weeks later. That hurt too.)
Sadly, none of my family came. My siblings, because they were unable, and my parents, because they would not.
However, George gave us all ample cause for laughter that night. As he came forward for the kiss of peace after the Chrismation, he (Anglo-Saxon to the core) said in a loud voice that "this was the first and last time!" he would kiss me. LOL!
Part 2: post #122
Part 3: post #182
Part 4: post #183
Part 5: post #187
Addendum 1: post #189
For Verushka, Greg, and Duchess.Vasya Davidovich said:
3. Converting was hard. Oh, choosing the right and pure and best was easy. It was the follow-through that I found difficult. And, I have to admit, there are layers of difficulty. First there is the mild level of difficulty. Then there is the tough-to-get-around level of difficulty. Lastly there is the gut-wrenchingly painful level of difficulty. Broadly speaking, I had all three.
First, there were my friends and acquaintances. A few were staunch supporters of where I was going, as they saw that God was leading me... even if they didn't feel called to follow. This is a uniquely Protestant approach. However, most did not understand at all. This was rough. This was hard. And some of these opponents I greatly respected. I remember one friend setting aside an hour to argue the errors of the Catholic Church (and by extension, the Orthodox Church). Even my close friend Brian argued with me regularly as to how far afield I was going.
Second, there was my girlfriend. Now, while she supported me in my quest for God and truth, and while she saw that God was leading me into the Orthodox Church, she could not follow. Here was a year's relationship in jeopardy because of our mutual obstinacy and conviction as to God's calling. This was tough too.
Third, there was my parents. My parents are lovely people, and dedicated to God and their church. My father is a Baptist pastor, and a son of a Baptist minister. I come from a line of two generations of missionaries. When I declared my intention of converting, all heck broke loose. My mother - normally a sweet lady - declared Orthodoxy a heresy and called me a heretic, and my father proclaimed that I hurt him beyond comprehension in taking this route. They also decided that this was a youthful thing, and came out of my inadequacies and shortfallings as a person... my immaturity, in other words. There are no easy words to describe what these kind of attacks feel like, nor how much they hurt, nor how effective they are. Oh, I stayed the course. I grit my teeth and pushed on, but it hurt like billy-oh.
4. When the time came for my conversion - my Chrismation - I had many old friends show up, and acquaintances that I never realized were friends. Brian, the Calvinist friend who had argued with me for so long, showed up. George, the Brethren friend who had rebuked me, also showed up. It was a nice crowd. (The girlfriend couldn't come because she was too far away. It was probably for the best as we broke up - on account of differing theologies - a couple weeks later. That hurt too.)
Sadly, none of my family came. My siblings, because they were unable, and my parents, because they would not.
However, George gave us all ample cause for laughter that night. As he came forward for the kiss of peace after the Chrismation, he (Anglo-Saxon to the core) said in a loud voice that "this was the first and last time!" he would kiss me. LOL!
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Alexis OCA
Secrecy and Accountability Cannot Co-Exist
Vasya,
Thank you so much for taking the time to share your story. It is appreciated.
Thank you so much for taking the time to share your story. It is appreciated.
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MariaRegina
Well-Known Member
Since I was confirmed in the Roman Catholic Church as a rebellious 14 year old, and since I received the sacrament only at the urging of my parents, I didn't see any improvement in my life. Instead, I really struggled and fell into sin very easily. So I asked to be chrismated into the Orthodox Church. I needed all the help I could get because I realized my utter depravity.
Immediately after my Holy Chrismation, my spiritual father noticed a big change in me and I'm still growing in the Spirit.
When a close friend who had only been received by Holy Confession and Holy Communion left the Orthodox Church, my spiritual father changed his practice and chrismated all the Catholics who had been received by Confession only. He noticed improvements in their spiritual health. So there is definitely grace being imparted.
Immediately after my Holy Chrismation, my spiritual father noticed a big change in me and I'm still growing in the Spirit.
When a close friend who had only been received by Holy Confession and Holy Communion left the Orthodox Church, my spiritual father changed his practice and chrismated all the Catholics who had been received by Confession only. He noticed improvements in their spiritual health. So there is definitely grace being imparted.
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i was baptized as an infant into the Orthodox Church, so really no conversion took place, but its only been since that past few years i started going back to church, to the Orthodox Church that is. God bless!
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Lotar
Swift Eagle Justice
- Feb 27, 2003
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(or "How I Learned to Stopped Worrying and Love the Church")
The Beginnings of the Man Formerly Known as Neal,
Formerly Known as Lotar, Presently Known as John
Installment I
The Beginnings of the Man Formerly Known as Neal,
Formerly Known as Lotar, Presently Known as John
Installment I
One may ask, "How does a person of Irish/Sicilian heritage end up Protestant?" To tell you the truth, I don't know, but this is what I can piece together. On my mother's side, somehow my grandfather's family converted to Lutheranism some time in the past, though I'm not sure when or why. My grandmother wasn't particularly committed to the Roman Catholic faith, and took up the Lutheran religion when she married my grandfather.
On my father's side, my grandfather became bitter towards the Roman Catholic Church, after a nun told him that God took his father away as punishment (he was in elementary school at the time). His reaction was to become an Atheist, though we all knew that he really did believe in God. My grandmother had a religious experience at a "Tent Revival," but gave up practicing for my grandfather.
So, this is the family I was born into, one side Atheist/Agnostic and the other Lutheran. Similiarly, this was family life, my mom raised us as Lutherans and my dad stayed home to watch da Bears, sometimes slipping me a book on the big bang or evolution. I still remember the fight my parents got into after my mom overheard me, with pride, retelling to my dad how the earth formed over millions of years.
I spent most of my early life at the church; during the week I went to school there, and most Sundays I would talk my mom into letting me go to the service, instead of Sunday school. I learned vague stories about how the Pope kept people from reading the Bible, and how this man named Martin Luther made it available to everyone and people tried to kill him for it. I learned basic Bible stories, but the content of my Confirmation classes were lacking.
Around the time of my entering into Confirmation (7th grade), my dad had a religious experience and converted to Christianity. It was quite an odd thing having my dad go with us to church and it not being a special occasion. Plus, he wouldn't draw with me during the sermon any more. But, it was good and happy, and my parents began to embark on their mission to becoming better Christians.
One of the first influences my dad brought to our church was to the liturgy. Our church started out as a generally conservative traditional church, and by the time we left during my Junior year of high school, it was all about the guitars and Maranatha "praise music."
My mom and dad over the period of 4 years became Evangelicals in all but name, and grew discouraged at the slow and sometimes backwards movement of the Lutheran church in this direction. Soon we began to search for a new church, though I was not happy about it. Leaving the Lutheran faith wasn't as much of a problem for me as having to leave my friends, and meet new people. I have always been a strange mix of shy Irish boy and Italian loudmouth, and new people and environments have always been difficult for me.
I was 16 years old, I was along for the ride, and I still did not know the Church.
On my father's side, my grandfather became bitter towards the Roman Catholic Church, after a nun told him that God took his father away as punishment (he was in elementary school at the time). His reaction was to become an Atheist, though we all knew that he really did believe in God. My grandmother had a religious experience at a "Tent Revival," but gave up practicing for my grandfather.
So, this is the family I was born into, one side Atheist/Agnostic and the other Lutheran. Similiarly, this was family life, my mom raised us as Lutherans and my dad stayed home to watch da Bears, sometimes slipping me a book on the big bang or evolution. I still remember the fight my parents got into after my mom overheard me, with pride, retelling to my dad how the earth formed over millions of years.
I spent most of my early life at the church; during the week I went to school there, and most Sundays I would talk my mom into letting me go to the service, instead of Sunday school. I learned vague stories about how the Pope kept people from reading the Bible, and how this man named Martin Luther made it available to everyone and people tried to kill him for it. I learned basic Bible stories, but the content of my Confirmation classes were lacking.
Around the time of my entering into Confirmation (7th grade), my dad had a religious experience and converted to Christianity. It was quite an odd thing having my dad go with us to church and it not being a special occasion. Plus, he wouldn't draw with me during the sermon any more. But, it was good and happy, and my parents began to embark on their mission to becoming better Christians.
One of the first influences my dad brought to our church was to the liturgy. Our church started out as a generally conservative traditional church, and by the time we left during my Junior year of high school, it was all about the guitars and Maranatha "praise music."
My mom and dad over the period of 4 years became Evangelicals in all but name, and grew discouraged at the slow and sometimes backwards movement of the Lutheran church in this direction. Soon we began to search for a new church, though I was not happy about it. Leaving the Lutheran faith wasn't as much of a problem for me as having to leave my friends, and meet new people. I have always been a strange mix of shy Irish boy and Italian loudmouth, and new people and environments have always been difficult for me.
I was 16 years old, I was along for the ride, and I still did not know the Church.
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