My Religious Background

I felt some hesitance to write about these classes I dreamed of that seemed to “train children up” – a Christian term you may have heard regarding education. This is how I envision Laura Ingalls Wilder being raised, which seemed good to me. (I only read a few of her books as an adult. I loved them – and read them to at least one of my children.) But I was not aligned with Christianity at the time, and “training children up” was something that in my younger days sounded somewhat harsh to me.

I have also written some thoughts on how children might be more fully educated as part of this thread of exploration.

Perhaps the Laura Ingalls Wilder books are what led me to seek out a church when my older daughter was approaching her teen years and my other two were 5+7. We spent a year or more attending a Unitarian church, where the sermons were soul-nourishing. We were just starting to make connections in the congregation when life’s demands did not allow the hour drive any longer.

I was raised in a family that attended a Congregational church on Sundays, but did not seem to truly embrace the values of Christianity. My mother said we went to church to engage with community – not a bad thing, but we did not give thanks at our meals, and the word God was rarely spoken in our home.

When I was a teenager, my mother said it was important to put myself in other people’s shoes – to imagine what it would be like to be them, with their challenges. This meant a great deal to me, and I took it to heart. I had heard of the Golden Rule and I embraced it the best I could. But that was the only life lesson I can recall receiving from either parent. Of course I don’t remember everything – but I’m certain that the presence of God was not spoken about or acknowledged in any real or way in my childhood home.

There was one Sunday school lesson may have been the reason we stopped attending church. I came home and said to my mom “Now I know why people hate the Jews – Jesus was killed by the Jews!” She was very upset by this and explained to me that Jesus was Jewish. Mom was very vocal and I’m pretty sure she spoke about this with the minister. My mother came to adulthood during World War 2, and her German family were social outcasts to some extent during that time. Her best friend during my childhood was Jewish – the mom of “Jerry” in my recent story. Mom and Dad both believed that all people should be treated equally – all races, religions, and nationalities. I am deeply grateful for this aspect of my upbringing.

I am a lover of all people. Even those who go astray, or who I leave behind, who have hurt me or my loved ones. I can’t help it. I don’t stop loving those who I have loved. This does not always set well with others – and it is sometimes painful to me. I have learned not to always mention it. Such as my friend’s ex-spouse, or the friend of my daughter who betrayed her. But I still carry them in my heart once I learn to love them. Sometimes I carry anger as well – but eventually that falls away, and love is all that is left. I like being this way. It’s gentle and it’s full-hearted.

When I was in middle school, I started attending a Baptist church occasionally with my best friend’s family. I was actually baptized with my best friend there. I remember taking classes to prepare us for baptism and I remember having a really hard time with the concept of accepting Jesus as my lord and savior AND with the belief that he died for our sins. But my best friend was going to do it, so I finally stopped questioning and just went ahead.

My friend and I attended a Baptist youth camp for several years. I loved the Christian songs I learned there around the campfire there and I sang them all year long. I still sing some of them. “Jesus walked this lonesome valley. He had to walk it by himself. Nobody else could walk it for him. He had to walk it by himself.” Love it.

But this was the place of my final separation from Christianity. One morning I was sitting at a bible study class. I can’t recall what exactly we were reading/studying, but it involved Hell – which was a concern of mine. When it came time for discussion, I asked a question that had been on my mind for some time. “If a person who was born to a tribe in South America or Africa never heard of Jesus, would he go to hell when he died?” The answer from the youth pastor was yes. And that was the end of Christianity for me.

My love of others and my belief in equality and fairness for all was stronger than any alignment with a harsh and punishing God.

Later my best friend’s mom told me that not all pastors would have answered this question the same way – but I had turned away. I didn’t want to belong to a group where any others felt this way, leaving me to sift through. Any paradigm I would sign onto would be a loving one, as would it’s followers.

And for most of my life the word “God” made me uncomfortable.

It has been a very long journey back to God. My spiritual search started in my late 20s. And only recently – in the past few years – has my perception of spiritual community expanded to include Christianity.

I do feel some alignment with the concept of “training up children.” In truth, I don’t know a lot about it, and I realize there are probably as many versions as there are families.

My children were raised in a family that valued honesty and compassion and respect for all. I would add discipline and devotion and prayer if I were to raise children today. Although it would probably be a conglomeration of what I have garnered from my spiritual search, not from a specific institution or book.

Wisdom and truth often come late in life. And there are as many versions as there are people. I am still learning.

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