Friday, January 29, 2010

I am a New Englander

I am a New Englander, but I never fought for independence or threw tea into Boston Harbor in protest of taxation. I was a pretty good kid who loved Boston sports, girls, and rock music, so you can probably imagine that I am going to start my journey somewhere in my junior high years because boys usually don’t think about girls until about that age. I only had one real problem. I was forced to attend church and as if that wasn’t bad enough I was also forced to attend a christian school starting in sixth grade which probably in retrospect did save me from a few beatings in public school because I was a skinny pacifist.
I remember my first youth group experience was a Bible study that met at my youth pastors home. (Please don’t ask me what the subject was because I have no idea.) I do remember that it wasn’t so bad. I always had to sit through a long devotional that was way above my head, but in the end I got to hang out with my friends and eat some pretty good desserts. Unfortunately, it was also the place where I experienced for the first time the ugly side of Christianity. I had missed one of the meetings due to illness only to find out later that my youth pastor told everyone that I listened to rock music so I was not a person that they should be close friends with. BLACKLISTED IN SIXTH GRADE!!! OH! the humiliation. I was bad. Bad to the bone. I listened to Journey. Hide your sons and daughters! I jest now but this was the first wound in a long list of wounds that my heart and soul would sustain in the coming years.
A year or two after this incident my life was turned upside down one morning as I walked through the doors of my 7th grade classroom to find a prayer request written across the blackboard for me that read, “Eric’s dad has cancer.” What the heck are you talking about my dad doesn’t have cancer. Unfortunately, my parents had entrusted this bit of news to the wrong people and the shocking news was delivered to me prematurely. People who are expected to keep their word. People who are expected to do the right thing. People who should have served our family and honored my parents request for discretion rather than fulfilling a morbid desire to get the word out first. I’ll never forget coming home determined to prove this nasty rumor a fallacy only to have my world rocked to its very core. I still get worked up when I think about how my family handled this difficult situation and subsequent situations, but all I could do was hope that they were telling me the truth when they said he would be all right.
On February 21, 1982, I lost my dad, my mentor, and my friend. His death as bad as it was could have been so much worse than it was if I had decided to blame God. So much worse if I had turned my back on God, but I chose to really seek out this God that I had been hearing so much about the last couple years and this eternal life He was offering. Scripture had this bizarre calming effect on me even though I had no idea what it meant. (We were only allowed to use the King James Version back in the day.)

To Be Continued,
Nobe

1 comment:

  1. I'm in tears here! How can I wait for the rest??? LOL As you wrote, I thought of my 13yo whom I have shoved religion down his throat as far to the point of making him puke from my self-righteous, condemning-to-hell, parenting! Over the last year, as God has told me to let go, I have stepped back to see the horror of what my actions have done to him... So I'm waiting for your continuation to see how the story ended! LOL

    Blessings to you and your wife B!
    Heaven

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