My decision to make my overt post about faith on the day of celebrating the fact that all three of my daughters had decided to openly proclaim their young faith through baptism has prompted a need for a more developed sharing of the story. Knowing my story may encourage you in your faith. Or, it may at least deepen your willingness to listen to my ideas. I told you part 1 a few weeks ago, so here’s the next installment.
My childhood probably is what you may be thinking someone raised in the home of a pastor would be. We literally were at church every time it was open. As a pre-teen, my father was not serving professionally in ministry, so we belonged to the church of his childhood—First Baptist Church in Athens, TN. Later, upon my teen years, Dad had accepted positions professionally in ministry around our East Tennessee home, and I generally followed him with his work.
My sister and I undertook Bible Drill competitions, were active in the youth group, sang in the choir and with our parents at evangelism events, and went on various mission trip efforts. We were raised with a certain set of values that reflected the faith of my parents, especially my father whose father and grandfather had also been ministers of the Christian faith.
It was, however, in college that real questions arose for me. As with others, these questions came both from intellectual confrontation and from emotional crisis. By the time of my 20th year, something big was brewing. Looking back now, some 25 years later, I can see better what was happening, but at the time, all I knew was that I was unhappy in life and saw no real point in Christianity.
I had several friends in a variety of ministries on campus, but I didn’t participate in any of them. Moreover, I found much of what they often talked about as being trite or condescending. My college classes were not some laboratory of atheism, but in general terms, I just didn’t see how the supposed Christian story really had any impact in the world that I was living.
This disgruntlement on my part, I can see now, stemmed from having grown up on the “inside.” As I aged, I had spent time with my father in various ministry situations and even now as a 20 year old, I was growing close in friendship with the current youth minister at my college church. What I saw and experienced seemed greatly at odds with what I thought I knew about the faith.
By the summer between my sophomore and junior year in college, I was drifting. An emotional situation with a girl happened; nothing terrible though I was mostly to blame. At the time, all I could wonder about was how, if I was a Christian, could I consistently have these sad moments? I think subconsciously I also wondered how I, this outwardly religious person, could have failed so in this relationship.
During the spring quarter, I was ready to just walk away. Just slowly fade from view, let the faith slide and move on in some direction. If I was really going to live like a Christian, it was at the point that some choice needed to be made. Or, I needed to just openly reject everything I had every said I believed. But I couldn’t keep going this way.