I got my good looks from Mom and yes, those are Superman glasses (emblem on the side of the ear piece.) 
This was the picture of my Mom and I when we joined Radnor Baptist Church in Nashville. I was in sixth grade. It was my only time in church growing up (about six months.) I was Baptized but didn’t know what it all meant. I did not have a saving knowledge of Christ and don’t remember how it all transpired even. But … I remember the day *very* clearly. More on that in a minute.
At this church one of the funny memories is when my brother and I were making noises, loud noises that sounded like “barking tree spiders” if you know what I mean. Brother Paul, the preacher, made my brother and I sit on the mini-thrones behind him on stage. My brother seemed to love it. I was terrified.
My brother and I gave the elders a run for their money though. We rode the church bus to Sunday school and then would hide in the construction site (expanding the sanctuary) after Sunday School before “big church.” Most of the time the elders would find one of the two of us and the other would come out of hiding to not leave the other alone to suffer through the sermon without company. One elder, a balding red headed man, was very good at finding us. It took him a while but he usually was the one to find us.
However, this church also had all the youth bring in their rock band posters, albums and paraphernalia. They heaped it into a big pile at the foot of the pulpit (not the cross) and Brother Paul preached about the hell to come to those who made that satanic music. The youth brought this rock ‘n roll fan treasure in as an act of repentance and they were going to destroy it. But before that, he held up a picture of one of the guys from KISS or Van Halen or someone (… all hair band dudes tended to look the same back then) and said with a sneer, “Come on! Do you think anyone lookin’ like this is goin’ to get to heaven?”
If you think that is bad, that wasn’t the worst part, the congregation erupted in laughter while he threw the picture down on the pile. I looked at my brother, both of us avid KISS baseball card collectors, and said, “that ain’t right … that’s not true.”
I went home and told my Mom what had happened (remember we rode the bus to church and back) and we never went back. I would learn later that my Mother had gone to a leader at that church for help concerning our AWOL father. She eventually had two of the churches leaders tell her that the reason my father had abandoned us for a prostitute in Germany was her fault. It was her fault, according to them, because in the end it was the wife’s job to make sure the husband was satisfied.
Seriously … what?
… and if she were to divorce it would be a sin against God and her family.
Talk about church leadership really screwing things up. What an asinine thing to say and yet, I hear, it was par for the course during that time.
Regardless, this church is the home of one of my earliest memories of experiencing God. Again, the picture above was taken when I got baptized. It was before Brother Paul cast Nikki Six (or whoever) into hell. It was before the elder lied and verbally abused my mother. The only thing I knew about that Baptism, honestly, was that God wanted me to do it. I don’t remember thinking about sin or Christ or anything. I did it because it was in my head that God wanted me too. In my heart I believed that if God wanted me to do it, and it would make Him happy, then I wanted to do it.
I remember being in the changing room. I was the youngest of the few men getting baptized that day. I was nervous but thought it was cool to dress in the robe. Yes, by that time I thought I was gay but the coolness about the robe was because I felt regal … not wanting to wear a dress. I never struggled with cross dressing.
When it came to the actual ceremony, I remember the congregation, the light, I remember the smell of the water, I remember the pastor mumbling something. I remember going under the water and being lifted up out of the water. As I rose up … an overwhelming sensation hit me that was full of joy and peace. It was like the light coming through the windows had enveloped my heart. I was amazed and I just *knew* that God was really very happy. At that point in my life I was a miserable little kid for a lot of different reasons but I remember the peace of God that day. I told my Mom about it later that afternoon and it stands as a singular day in my spiritual journey.
Again, I didn’t know God. I did not have a saving knowledge, much less a relationship, with Christ. I was an unknown kid in an unknown environment doing something to make an unknown God happy. And He was … He let me know. If you were to ask what the most peaceful day I had while I grew up … it was easily that day. I don’t know that I ever questioned God’s existence before that event but I certainly didn’t afterward. I did question who God was until I found Christ in 1992.
Now, I have no doubt. He was the One who brought peace to a kid who really needed some. In His mercy, He lifted my soul up out of the depths that day.
I am so glad I know Him now. He is a *great* God.
Now, I am forty, I have taken my place in the Church and thank God, literally, it isn’t anything like what I experienced there at Radnor. Some of my favorite Christian Siblings are absolutely some of the freakiest looking people around. Brother Paul was wrong, and when we see him in heaven we will have a big laugh that not only did they get in … he and his double batched black dyed hair made it in too.
… of course I will probably have to repent for that last joke too.
Actually, it looks like Radnor has gone through some *serious* changes over the years as well. Hardly the huge church it used to be … and that could be a good thing. Time marches on, the unknown becomes known while other mysteries yet remain.
So, here is to praying that you receive that unexpected joyburst of simply wanting God to be happy. Take a step of faith toward Him and look for His embrace.
Superman glasses not required.
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August 15, 2008 at 5:18 pm
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