ARCHIVES:

Posts in this section were archived prior to February 2010. For more recent posts, go to the HOME PAGE.

10/8/08                                                                                       View Comments

God doesn’t seem to be that concerned about us

Sent in by Melvin

I started taking Christianity serous at the age of six or seven. My father was very involved in the Pentecostal church. My mother was Baptist, but went to my dad's church because that is where my dad's family went. So mom, being very submissive early in the marriage, went along with whatever my dad said.

Don't get me wrong; my dad is the coolest guy to hang out with; he just should never ever marry again.


The day I plunged headfirst into Christianity was when my next door neighbor Johnny told me that I was going to hell because I didn't belong to the Church of Christ. Being a little kid, I went home crying because I thought I was going to burn in hell for all eternity. MY mom told me that as long as I accepted Jesus into my heart I would go to heaven. So there in our family room we knelt down and prayed.

I attended church regularly for several years, but never really read the Bible until I was in my teens. As a teenager with red curly hair, a weight problem, and my first name being Melvin, I was the universal symbol for "stomp my ass and spit in my face." I was harassed on a daily basis. No one would talk to me, and no girl would get within thirty feet. So, needless to say, the thought of a heaven after this life and the continual rant by my church that we shouldn't have stock in this life made me dive deeper into Christianity.

I read my Bible out loud on the bus. I witnessed to people, and I wore stupid scripture T-shirts that had all the catchy slogans. I was ragged on worse than before, and two of the three really good friends I had wouldn't talk to me anymore because they thought I had lost my mind.

Eventually I snapped.

I remember one day I had had enough, and if any one blinked at me wrong I went off. This worked for awhile, but the Bible that had been beaten into my head since birth was hard to escape. So I had two personalities. Some times I was Mr. Praise Jesus. The other times I was captain F--- the world... until I went to a vocational school.

On my second day at this different school, I ran into a kid that taught me about the teachings of the Celestine prophecy -- about meditation and energy flow. Slowly but surely, me and him started a pagan coven of about seven classmates that met up every Friday. Mike taught us Martial arts, and we would spar each other in matches. We also did a circle, where we talked about problems and did meditation and (spells). I loved the coven because we were all the rejects of the school, so we all understood and listened to each other. We were more of a family than any church I have ever been in. Being that my parents were getting divorced at the time and the church people wouldn't hang out with me even if I paid them, this was very exciting experience for me.

Eventually over time the coven turned in to another church, but I had gained long lasting friendships from it. I eventually turned to Satanism. I liked the aggressive ideals of the religion, but eventually that too lost its luster. Now I don't know what I consider myself, but I don't believe in any god of any religion.

There is a possibility that there is a being that created us, but to me it doesn’t really matter if there is or if there isn't. Because if there is one, it doesn’t seem to be that concerned about us.

Reblog this post [with Zemanta]