If you are Interested in 60 minutes take on some abstract art, check out 60 Minutes on Sunday, April 1, 7:00 p.m. I have seen a preview and am anticipating the entire story. I hope it bangs a few heads.)
During my first year or so in high school I didn’t give God much thought, except at church. I was getting more and more angry with God. All I knew about the Bible was the typical Sunday school lessons for children. God seemed pretty benign. I knew He loved the little children but I seemed to be rapidly moving out of that category and into the adult life where all I heard was the judgment of God. He was angry. He was going to punish a sinner — among whom I was one; at least that’s how I felt. I didn’t pray, read a Bible or give much thought to either. Maybe I was being forced to go to church, but they couldn’t make me believe.
I picked up words considered swearing when I was young. I carefully avoided the words Jesus and God. I wasn’t good at swearing, but it began developing. I asked my dad and other Christian adults some of the harder questions — where in the Bible does it prohibit bowling? Where does it address the sin of dancing or card playing? The answers were pretty standard. “It’s not the activity, it’s the place.” “It’s not the activity, but the implication.” So now I knew that inanimate objects could be sinners just like people. Right! I kept my mouth shut but often thought we should stay out of church as well. I had seen kids necking in the church basement, therefore, church = bad place. I knew better than to bring up that point.
There were no examples of Godly youth in my church, at least none that were obvious. If the teens I knew were God followers, they were hiding it rather well. I had the feeling they were all waiting to be old enough to tell their parents that they were out of there. I already knew that the church had been a painful experience for my older siblings, except Doris. I don’t know anything about the experiences of my other two sisters. I know they both met Air Force guys at the roller skating rink. That alone said a lot about what they thought of the rules of the church and my parents. My two older brothers got several dressing downs at the hands of the pastor and his wife and that they left the church before my parents were willing. They both just said no. I didn’t have that courage. My mother could control me with a look or a whine. For some reason, I didn’t want to hurt her. I didn’t what her or anyone to think badly of me.
My oldest brother moved to Omaha with my parents, but stole the families model A and returned to Kansas after just a few months. There he sold the Model T for living money. David joined the Navy at 17 to escape home. Her husband’s father married Doris and Dean Jr. in front of the coal stove in our home; Dorlis had a fancy church wedding where they exited under drawn sabers. I thought that was cool. Her husband was a physical abuser, and a huge bigot. I could hardly stand to be around him. Gladys eloped and called to tell mom she was married. I would not have faced her either, not with that news. My younger brother had a shotgun wedding. I felt like a saint. A lying deceptive one, but still a saint!
I began to be aware that my family had plenty of problems. I didn’t understand it all or know what they were, but it was beginning to come into focus. Where was God in the middle of it all? I was scared to death of dying without God. What faith I had was fear based. That didn’t seem right. There had to be more. Something inside me was longing for something deeper. I wanted to stretch my wings and experience the world, but there was this inner thing that usually held me in check. It was a few years before I realized the Holy Spirit was speaking to me and keeping me from sin. As far as I was concerned I was always walking this fine line between right and wrong. None of this kept me from question the rules posted on my conscience. Were those right or wrong? I was secretly beginning to try and find out for myself. David danced. I was pretty sure it wasn’t “the chicken,” but what was it? Take a little wine for your stomachs sake. I wanted to understand but I did not want a big fight or someone to simply say, “Because I said so.” That wasn’t going to work any more.
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