Journey of a Janus pt 8, Home at last

The alarm woke up early that morning, and I honestly couldn't think for a minute why I was getting up so early. Finally it came back to me, that I was going to the Three C Course that morning. Bella asked me if I would take the Three C Course about a week ago and I said yes and found out about two days afterwards that it was a Saturday morning class. (Important note...read the fliers) I kept my word, but I wasn't too happy about it that morning...Janus Torrell is not a morning person.
The class was small and we had about five of us total plus our teacher. Our teacher was our local campus pastor Troy McMahon who probably is a morning person because he started us up pretty well and gave us a few things to read and write along with and gave us a pretty good overview of what Community Christian Church was all about. (Yes for those that emailed me thats what CCC stands for.)
So, I hope I am remembering this properly, the three C's also stand for Celebrate, Connect, and Contribute. It was not a long class but it was a very interesting one. I am afraid I can't really give you the presentation without getting too far off topic, but I wanted to at least tell you why they call it a Three C Class. The website is a little better at explaining things than I am.
In the last part of the class we got to do a little of question and answer about things and while the class was good on it's content alone what I saw that morning, as tired as I was, amazed me. I had wandered and gone to many churches since I was very young, more churches than I care to remember, but this one was different.
When you read the book of Acts and the writings in the church way back in the early A.D. days you wonder why these people risked their lives, gave generously, and enjoyed going to church. I never looked forward to it before after that brief time of Sunday school years ago. I went because I was told "Janus, you need to go to church." It wasn't a joy to me, it was a chore, something you did to keep God from being mad at you. This church doesn't make it some drudgery chore.
I have read the Bible off and on (more off than on admittedly) over the years and I always read about stuff like joy, forgiveness, and love. I didn't understand it. The things I understood before were guilt, rule following, and fire and brimstone. If you do read the gospels and Acts and really try to understand it, you find out that Jesus came and died and rose again because of love and forgiveness, he came here to free us from those guilts and legalistic practices that I tried to do. In fact if you read the gospels you find out exactly what he thinks of loveless rule following. (Hint he doesn't like it.)
I don't know exactly when or where this finally sunk in, I don't keep a diary. I do remember though that I finally understood it. It was like chains were broken off and a pressing weight I had carried for a long time was taken from me. I do remember sitting in that class room on the second floor of the church, and listening to Troy speak and realizing that he meant everything he said and I couldn't find a trace of legalism or hypocrisy in him.
I must of gave him many of my trademarked Janus deep thinking scowls, while I was sitting there trying to figure out if he was a real follower of what God was all about. I hope I didn't come across as rude, but I kept waiting for a catch. Their wasn't one. After taking this course and being face to face with a follower of Jesus and having no way to avoid dealing with it (I was in a class room with five people, kind of hard to vanish in a crowd) I realized that I found a church I could call home.
We are going a bit long today I realize but I want to just leave you with a few little nuggets of verbage before I close out.
I have met all the campus pastors, at least at my home church and I found out that Troy, as good of a person as he is, is not the only person that had this inner light that made me want to come here. He was the first I got to really see face to face, but not the last, I saw it with ever person I had met there.
I went to take another class that we called the Alpha 2 course. (I took it before part 1, which I am currently in.) I met my good friend Rob in there, along with his wife and some really great people. I have been going to CCC for quite a while, and I am still amazed that I have not run into anyone that just goes there because they feel they have to. I have found a place where the people really believe what they speak, and its not a ritual but a celebration.
Some of you that are reading this that are a bit far away and I really wish I could invite you to go to the same place I do, because it took me a long time to find it but I haven't regretted it since. You can see the lessons on the website I linked to above after every week, and you can see some great stuff. If you are reading this and you aren't in a church no matter where in the corner you are and you want to know what this great thing is all about I would tell you that is worth it.
Find a place, and be with others to help you grow and don't just be an attender...celebrate with it, connect to it, and contribute to it. I have learned and grown in ways so much in just a little time, compared to years of aimless wandering. Find a place where the love of God can be felt and where you can return it. If you love God with all your heart and strength, and love your neighbor as yourself...you will get it. It would be the greatest thing that could ever happen to you.

Thank you for reading my story, sorry that it get's a bit long in some parts but this is not something that I can easily squeeze into one little entry. Later on I will make a link that puts them all together in order for ease, but otherwise this testimony is finished. As cheesy of a cliche as it is though, it's hardly the ending for me, I am finally just beginning.

Journey of a Janus pt 7, Even the Colonel is Not Spared..

After a while of attending the family group every week, Co-worker/Future Sister-in-law Lynn, told me that I was going to have to find a place to fellowship and grow. Which sounded eerily like what Pastor Goode told me years ago to do that I managed to mess up badly at.
While I agreed and shook my head, Bella actually did something about it.
So while I was pretending not to think about when I would have to find a new church, Bella started surfing the web and trying to find a "good healthy non-psychotic" church for us to join.
Way to go Bella.
You have to love that modern technology, which wasn't around back in the day when I had to find A) a church that wasn't insane and B) One I could get a ride to. (Janus didn't drive back 15 years ago.) Some churches had a few basic core doctrines, others told me what food they didn't want me to eat and what R rated movies I couldn't watch. Bella, looked at a church some of her co-workers told her about a while back and they had a pretty normal (non-psycho) core doctrine (and nothing else) and we figured we better give it a go.
My first impression was...it was very big. I mean that you could fit about four of the congregations I was a part of at one point or other comfortably in this room and still have plenty of seating. I am a bit shy (if you couldn't guess) and get a little nervous with crowds so I was not too relaxed for my first time out. (I also went to the busiest service they had, the over crowded 11 o'clock.)
I also came into the end of a lesson series, instead of joining when they just started. So I got the tail end of the lesson on being a good steward, which admittedly made me a little nervous since I didn't realize that this is not a continual message. (I went to a church before where they tell you constantly to give give give more every week, and well they didn't really use what we gave them.) At the end my panic attack got me walking quickly to the exit.
Bella and I went to the IHOP afterwards and she asked me what I thought of it. I listed the good points I got from my brief visit (Nice people, casual dress, they enjoy it there) and mentioned the things in the above paragraph to show how I was not sure yet. Bella said we would pray on it and maybe visit another one, but she liked it and wanted to go back. (Goes to show that you can't always go off your first impressions.)
We didn't make it for the next service because we were out of town, and I was actually thinking that I would get out of not going to church. (Yes, I admit, I really didn't want to go to church, nothing against that particular church...I was avoiding all of them equally.) On that Monday that I went to my KFC and went to work. (Note the day.)
The next day I was praying (actually more like arguing with God, which I had done alot the last few years) about not wanting to go and fellowship, because I could do it all on my own. Since I didn't fellowship for a long time and you could see how well I clearly was doing. (Add your own sarcastic tone here)
I had that Tuesday evening off, and I decided that I wanted KFC again. Which for me is a normal thing. At one point I got so annoyed with the guilt pangs of not wanting to go back to the church that I said, "I am going to go get me a Chicken dinner from KFC...if you insist that I go back to that church, do a miracle...make me unable to get my chicken dinner." With that I left and drove to the local KFC.
When I pulled in, everything seemed normal enough. I got to the door and it was locked, it was 4:30 in the afternoon. I look at the door and saw a sign that said "CLOSED INDEFINATELY." The day before it was busy, people were working like normal. It came from out of no where.
Well God doesn't have to give us signs especially when we know deep down we are being bullheaded.
But I dared him.
And he called it.
I looked around nervously, and expected lightening to hit me or something.
Some of you out there who are reading this go "Wow thats an amazing coincidence and might accuse me of taking this too seriously."
Well if you heard the words I said to him earlier, and you saw my face out in that parking lot in January, you would know that it was a miracle.
"O.K....you win, I'm going back to the church."
And so I did, and I am still there. The KFC is still closed, apparently the rent was too high and they just closed down with no notice or warning. I drive by it almost every day and see a husk of what used to be a Kentucky Fried Chicken, now closed and standing there to remind me of where I came from.
I don't ask for signs anymore and now I eat at Popeyes and Browns Chicken. I recently found a KFC on the way home from work, and I have not asked God for any more dares. Do not put the Lord to the test, and he ain't kidding. If Colonel Sanders can't survive his smoting, I don't want to push my luck.
Soon After Bella said lets take a class at our new church called the 3 C course. I didn't dare argue, it was already decided.

To be continued and concluded.

Journey of a Janus pt 6, Haven't we been here before?

Continuing from part 5...

So after my little outburst I did not really look for a church that much, even though I figured I should have. I got more and more over the guilty feeling as time went on, and eventually I just kind of put God on the backburner of my life next to the "Great American Novel I will never start" and getting the garage cleaned.
Things gradually got worse as I drifted. I stopped reading my Bible, I stopped praying, and I pretty much thought I would use my Jesus Net 2000 (Which is where you say, hey I am saved right...yeah...so if he wants to talk to me he can drop me an email.) I met someone that turned me completely around, though the wrong direction.
Well to make a long story not so long, about 5 or 6 years later I hit rock bottom. I was angry, bitter, and basically came back from my wandering a broken person. With just a shirt on my back, a really ugly truck, and my Jack Russell Terrier named Sammy.
Sammy and I were both wanderers back then. She had been my brother Ed's dog, and Ed was always out of town and leaving her at my parents and my sisters house. So Sammy got passed around like unwanted litter, when I came back from the West she kept me company on the nights when I didn't know where to go or turn. We have been together ever since.
Eventually I came out to this area, and met Bella. I was not always the easiest person to be around, but for some reason she liked me and eventually we fell in love with each other. Bella's mom gave me a job helping her do household chores and little odds and ends. It didn't make me wealthy by any means, but it kept me going.
After a brief time, Bella's mom, who never was in good health declined a lot and quickly. After a while I went from lawn work and helping unpack boxes from the move- and went into taking care of Mandy (Bella's mom) instead. Over the next two years we went through several other caregivers and her condition got worse, and I was there, sometimes full time sometimes part time.
Mandy's other daughter came down from Wisconsin to take care of her briefly and decided that her mom needed Bible Studies (as well as her and the rest of us, since Mandy was homebound.) So while I did not quite get excited about Bible Studies again, I started attending them. At first Lynn did all the lessons, then her dad took over a few times.
I was told that if I wanted to lead I could take my turn, I was content to be lead for a while. Though after a while, I started getting impatient because I was tired of looking up verses all over the old and new testament to learn that God was "Mighty." We did a lesson on the book of John which was interesting but no one seemed to be ready. I think God forced my hand.
So I did a lesson on Exodus, I went through all the Egyptian plagues and the marching towards the promised land. I did my research and my notes so that I could find all the little gems of wisdom that I have overlooked and I found myself fascinated again. You cannot teach without being taught yourself, it just doesn't work that way.
So I started looking up difficult verses, instead of just dismissing them as errors or embelishments. I read lots of commentarys, and started reading my Bible very heavily. Through the frustration of wanting to teach so I could talk about what I LIKE, I ended up finding my way back to God. This was just the beginning again.
Remember how I said if God wanted me he could find me again? Well he did.

To be continued.

Journey of a Janus pt 5, Did we read the same book?

(Warning, if you are new here...this is a multiple part article, I would encourage you to read the archives and today has me using a little bit more insight into my teenage years, so take my own actions with a grain of salt back then. I promise when this is all done I will link them all together.)

From where we started last time a few days ago...

So I had to find a church, Pastor Goode assured me it is important that I stay with the "body." Which is a odd way of saying (At least to me), that I needed to stay connected with others.
I did not understand at the time why he was so worried about me doing this, but about 15 years later it makes sense now.
So for a while I tried the Baskin Robbins approach, where I would try going to a lot of different churches to see how it worked. In truth I probably should of given some of them more of a chance; I didn't go to some because I found out I was the only person under 100 years old in a few of them, some didn't teach anything and were too loose with their faith and it felt more like after school bowling team, some were not just strict but utterly insane. (I will not tell you which church, but when you need to put a restraining order on a "pastor" because you leave the church and he doesn't stop calling you and telling you that you are "hell bound" on your answering machine...go to another church.)
The last church I stayed at for two years, because some pastor told me that no church was perfect so find one and stick with it. It was a very strict and legalistic church, and I fought the urge to leave because I promised I would give it a chance. This was the church that called me "Brother Janus" all the time, which for a long time afterwards annoyed me. (But times change, see here for the story.) All the flimsy handshakes and Brother Janusing made me feel like some sort of monk.
To sum up some of the details of my church experience, so that you know where I am coming from. You do know I hate listing numbers though.
1. They are a formal dress church, the "Wear your Sunday Best" church that inspired slightly painful memories when I watched Eric's movie -Just go to October 22, if you need to find a specific reference to Sunday Bests...read the whole blog while you are there maybe.)
I actually had to borrow money from my Grandma to buy a suit so they would stop treating me like the spawn of Satan. I didn't have a suit and was not working at that age full time, so when in doubt call Grandma.
2. They believed that the King James Version is the only version of Bible that is legitimate for us to read. When I brought my NIV one time (New International Version, for those not into Bible initials) I remember the looks of fear and reproach I received because I did not have the "true version." I wasn't a Bible scholar back then either, but I am pretty sure that Jesus spoke a different language than Shakespearean English. (at least maybe in Judea region around 30 A.D. or so.)
3. The most distressing part for me was the intolerance. Basically they felt that people at this church would be the only ones to be spared from the wrath and every other denomination or whom did certain sins could never be forgiven and would be "hell bound." The youth minister even used a slurs to describe people that did certain sins that he thought were unforgivable.

That is just the tip of the iceberg, but this is not a flamefest, and I do not intend it to become one. I must admit that I still get some raw nerves when I speak and talk of this place. I did not quit it until after over two long years, and I tried my hardest to fit in and adjust. I heard others talking about the Holy Spirit flowing, and I honestly would of loved to feel that there. First I got the suit, then I got a haircut, but I never really got the hang of it.
I heard about the love of God at least two nights a week, but to be honest I didn't really see it that often other than written down in the program. Everyone seemed to be gossiping, thumping the bible like it was a baseball bat, and only seemed to be holy for about an hour of service, and then everything would go back to normal after the closing prayer.
I remember not sleeping at night sometimes wondering if God was going throw me out of heaven because I wasn't good enough. I read about the Pharisees and all the woes to them for being false and hypocritical, as I looked at my borrowed King James Version bible and the suit I bought so I could fit in with the rest of the group. I realized that this wasn't who I really was, and that maybe church wasn't for me and maybe I would burn in hell like they said. I began to think that if heaven would only be full of people like this, maybe I would be better off in hell.
At this point family troubles with my extended family brewed and exploded, and in a short while my life turned upside down. My parents couldn't reach through to me, counseling failed, and after a few months of absence without hearing so much as a peep from anyone there that might not even noticed, I tried to turn to my church for assistance. I tried to talk to the youth pastor about my trouble, but he didn't seem to care less even though I made an appointment. Then he told me that my hair looked a little shaggy and lectured me on respect for God's house. I finally lost it and said, "Look, I don't give a damn about my hair alright!"
Which then made him lose all sense of control over his perfectly forced holiness, and the condescending smile faded away and I thought he was going to hit me across the face. I admit that what I said was not appropriate but I was also tired of being lectured and wanted some sort of "Holy Spiriting." Instead I was told that Christians didn't say such things, and was thrown out of the office.
I made a phone call to an old friend and went to what would be my last Sunday school there. It was customary for people that were filled with the spirit to share a passage of the bible to the entire class if they should so choose, and I decided for the first time in the entire few years I had been here to give public speaking a try.
Now looking back I realized that this was not a loving nor Godly thing to do, but I was so fed but with the church and everything to do with it I was going to give them a memorable farewell. So I did a lesson on Numbers 22 and prepared to show them my abilities as a pastor.
Numbers 22:21-39 is a section in my old King James Version that is titled "Balaam's ass" and is actually a pretty neat story in any translation. It's about a guy that rides on his donkey and an angel of the lord stands in his way and the donkey refuses to walk past the angel. Balaam gets angry and whips the donkey and can't get him to move. Finally after a while the donkey asks him why he was whipping him, and Balaam answers him "Because you are making me look like a fool." I figure Balaam must be really frustrated and not paying attention because if my donkey spoke to me I would probably fall off in shock.
So using the "True version" I spoke about Balaam and his ass whom he called worthless I believe at least once, and whipped. This was very childish and very harsh of me, but I said it with complete deadpan and such conviction that I did not betray any lack of sincerity. Though many of the kids from the class and the youth pastor was well aware of what I was doing, but no one dared stop me from reading the word of God.
The senior pastor was clueless and was shouting Amen repeatedly during my scriptural reading, while the youth pastor started sweating and wishing he could hide. At the end of the lesson they have time for people to ask questions, the youth pastor tried to usher me off the stage but the senior pastor (his father) wanted to ask a question.
"So Janus, why did you pick that passage to read," he asked with an enthusiastic smile.
"I picked it because it shows that God can give even an ass the ability to speak and once in a while help us reach wisdom," I said without missing a beat and looking straight into the eyes of the youth pastor who was doing all he could not to come up to the pulpit and hit me with something.
With that someone started the prayer, and I slipped out of the room and went to the parking lot to a running car with Pastor Goode waiting in his trucking uniform. I ripped off my necktie with crosses on it and threw it in the trash and got into the car.
"Had a rough day my brother?" Pastor Goode asked me.
"Please don't call me that anymore," I said giving him a look of anger and ice, that startled him, "Could I have a ride home please."
"Sure...Janus," he said silently driving me home and not daring to say a word.
Looking back I feel bad for my treatment of my old friend, I wish I could say that I went to another church the next week and things got better soon after. For years though I wandered and grew more jaded until I stopped praying, reading, or having anything to do with God. Don't be nervous though, because even if we want to forget our old friend God...he doesn't stop loving you and he did reach me eventually. Which you will hear more about next time.

Journey of a Janus 4, a friend calls me back

From where we left off with three....

So for a couple years I did not go to church after I outgrew my Sunday School. I was torn between not learning anything new from my "kid" classes and not being able to stay awake from the "adult" classes in the upstairs chapel. Eventually I just kind of let it rest and figured well...Jesus loves me, I don't don't kill people or rob banks, so I am good enough I don't need church anymore.
For a few years I just kind of existed. Learning nothing new but not rejecting what I had learned (though I hadn't learned as much as I should of.) Bible reading became less and less though due to the monster that every boy and girl eventually faces. That being puberty. Suddenly Jesus and God were not nearly as exciting to me as girls, after school stuff, and basically anything that was all about me. (Yes...did I mention the girls, important you get that I no longer found them icky about eleven years old or so.)
Then I heard rumors that a stranger had pulled come into town. A middle aged fire and brimstone preacher from Missouri had moved into our little town and got a new position as a pastor in the other church in town. He had aspirations of reviving the dead (spiritually) town of Boucanville and he already had his attack plan. He was starting a youth group.
At last God and girls could be experienced in one place on Wednesday night. Not only did we have a lesson but we had a bunch of other preteens and teens in one roof and this guy was going to let us hang out together. I was actually excited about both the God and girls thing pretty equally, most of the guys I knew kind of leaned more towards the lady part.
So Jim Cheffs the kid that sat in front of me in math class let me in on this youth group thing as I casually asked about where everyone was hanging out on Wednesday and stuff. Jim said that he could get me in the door, and that the bus would be around at about 7:00. I was trying to figure out if this was a serious thing or just a party so I kept my questions guarded like I was trying to find a speakeasy.
Well that first week was bad, I missed the bus because I got home late and missed it while I was in the shower. So I got desperate and asked my Grandma if she could give me a lift to the brown church. (Our churches are seperated by color of paint.) You can tell I was desperate because I wouldn't normally want my grandma driving me anywhere in front of the other kids back then.
I eventually did find everyone else, since I found out that everyone was at Pastor Goode's house, and doing a bit of detective work and calling a few trustworthy adults (cough...my scoutmaster, his next door neighbor.) I got there about 10 minutes until 9:00 and I knew I was already about 2 hours too late. His wife let me in and told me they were downstairs, and I never have been able to walk late into a classroom so I sat on the stairs and listened.
I heard about Jesus, the real Jesus for the first time. Not this lamb holding Mr. Buddy that I always thought of him, but as an innocent man (and God) that suffered and died for me and my sins so I could live. It was like meeting him for the first time. I almost cried, but knowing that all those people in the next room would see it, I held it in. I heard Pastor Goode ask if anyone wanted to ask Jesus into their heart and be saved, the room was as silent as a tomb.
I didn't feel brave enough to ask.
Later when we all went home I called Pastor Goode up at house, and hoped I didn't wake up Mrs. Goode. I then asked what I had to do to be saved. After a brief conversation he talked me through the verses and what to say. That night, August 12th, 1989 I became a Christian. (Though the road is far from over, and we will get into that soon enough.)
I got my first "modern" Bible from Pastor Goode a month or so later when he found out that I wanted a Bible that I could actually understand. I started going to his church and learned quite a bit about God, though I was still not learning the trust and forgiveness thing yet. I at least knew who he was without any watering down.
Pastor Goode became, and still is my good friend to this day. We went to breakfasts together and we had great discussions...kudos to Mrs. Goode for letting me borrow her husband so much so he could deal with my little teen problems and big questions that would make Billy Graham want to take aspirin. God had called me to a new friend and kept his promise to me, that he would not leave me, and sent me a teacher.
Things of course got adverse later, because Pastor Goode made the mistake that many small town preachers make, he tried to get people to change their hearts. Apparently in his church he offended Ernest Mckellan, who was the Chairman and chief financial support of the church, and Ernest used his influence to terminate his contract. After that injustice, and losing the minister that brought spirit to that church I stopped attending soon after.
My friend Pastor Goode told me that I had to find a new church for my own grownth sake, and then he had to get a job driving Semi's full time to support his family. So soon I was back on the search again.

Journey of a Janus pt 3. the hometown church experience

From where I last left off with part 2.
Everything from this part is a little difficult...summing it up without ranting too much, being honest but not being too mean at parts, keeping it brief, and even the title for that matter.
So After being at Sunday school for a while, I wanted to go upstairs for big people church too, I guess you would call it. I tried it out when I was about ten years old or so and it lasted maybe a few months, after that I continued to go to Sunday school but stopped going to the main church. After a while I made the grevious assumption that anyone that is trying to do this on there own makes. That is, I thought I could do it on my own and I didn't need to go to church, because I would end up being a total nutcase or may become an Athiest if I had to be around people in church. (At least that church, though that sounds a bit mean.)
I did have some good experiences too I should point out. The coffee was great. I started drinking coffee not to look grown up like some kids did back then, but because the punch tasted kinda scary. Every time I would get myself some coffee and add my cream and sugar I would get the "You're going to stunt your grownth" joke from the little old lady who runs the refreshments table. The first time it made me worry, the second time it made me smile, but by the third time I wished that coffee would stunt my ability to hear tired old cliche jokes.
The church I go to now has a band, the church I went to then had a choir. I think some hymns sound good with a choir, but they of course had to sing hymns because they don't have a band and we couldn't get a 83 year old choir guy named Ralph to do some guitar rifts. Some of the songs are quite beautiful though, and even when I was 10 I found them hauntingly wonderful to hear.
Now I have to tell you the other side of the coin of course, I should start out by saying that Rev. Bridges was not the most exciting minister to hear, and that's not just because I was young, had the attention span of a goldfish for lectures, and had just drank 2 cups of coffee with way too much sugar in it. I don't blame him for it though, really I don't. I am sure alot of people think I am boring, sometimes I read my archives and go..yikes. For some reason though the 70 year old and older crowd liked that "young man" and most the parents of the kids that went to Sunday school avoided church for a reason.
Most of us have heard the term "watered down" church services. Some actually mean "watered down" and some mean "not from our denomination and therefore wrong." I could honestly say our's was pretty watered down, I wish I could say one person learned something 11:00 Sunday morning in that church and applied it within 5 minutes of leaving the building. Rev. Bridges could talk about nothing, and he could manage to do that for about an hour. My dad was not allowed to go with my mom unless he had a cup of coffee due to his bad habit of falling asleep during the sermon and snoring loud enough to make the pulpit kind of wobble.
It was a bit alarming, because in the brief time that I attended I really tried to get something out of it, and when it was done I would discuss what I heard and kind of learned.
My grandma would always go "That's what he was talking about!?" She basically went there because she knew she should go to church, but never really learned anything and honestly admitted to that once when I asked her what she liked about it. Rev. Bridges never talked about who Jesus really was, how God can change your heart and the importance of accepting Jesus, or really anything that made you want to learn anything new. His message every week seemed to be "You're generally good people, God will probably let you get into heaven as long as you are relatively good people." I tried asking questions back then, but if I got anyone to take me seriously, they didn't know the answer.
That was kind of the other problem, though it was complicated. It was the little church in our small town. Most people like to go where people know them, but I honestly wished I could be own person and people would think of me as a person of my own, and not Janus Sr's boy, or the little brother of that surly Ed or his sister Caroline. Kind of like how when Jesus went to Nazareth and everyone said "Isn't that Joe's boy?" every time he talked and no one respected him there. That's really about to as close as I can relate to Jesus sometimes without sounding like I am delusional, but growing up in a little town where everyone knows you and your family you tend to get typecasted.
The other problem in little towns is that no one really donates or tithes. Most people in Boucanville think the word Tithe has something to do with laundry detergents. So since most people kind of treat the offering plate as a tip jar at Starbucks, the church is usually broke. So that means for a church to survive it lives off the generous donations of one or two of the bluer blooded familys of Boucanville. Which means that also that they effectively "own" the church and everything that goes on there. Ministers learn either to teach the way the "Chairman" suggests or they usually end up walking. Since the Chairman doesn't want to hear this silly thing about them being sinners and needing Jesus to go into heaven because God doesn't cash checks, the churches are pretty dead.
So after a few frustrating month or so of trying to make it work with my local church, I dropped out. For a few years me and God talked, but it grew less and less....

See ya soon, as I tell ya the good news of what happened next.

Journey of a Janus pt 2, Sunday School

(Tomorrow's post tonight, while I wait for a call back...there now you won't be shortchanged.)
So continuing where I left off, my parents decided I was at that age to start attending Sunday school so I can learn about God and some of the people in the Bible that I had recently started to read but was still trying to make some sense of. It took a week or two for things to start up for me because they were just getting ready to begin a new unit, which was a good break (some would say Divine) for me, since I would be on the same page as the rest of my class (in many cases literally.)
Now if you haven't gathered from hearing about me before I did not grow up in a big town like Rockford or Naperville, but I grew up in Boucanville (ok I made that name up, but really the town is too small that I figured I better change it.) Boucanville has about 400 people in it including sheep and cattle. In every one of these towns...Boucanville, Shultz Crossing, and Harlemans Stream..every town has a church. Or at least a building that calls itself that and has a steeple usually. We will go into this more later, I promise.
So in my huge metropolis of Boucanville we had a whopping eight children that were between the ages of 6 through 11. Out of those eight, three of us were triplets who were 11 years old and would be done with Sunday school soon. I was one of the two kids that was actually there because I had a choice in the matter, most of the kids were related to the minister or somebody on the board and had to be there whether they liked Jesus or not. From this not overwhelmingly promising set of circumstances a faith with God was watered and blossomed.
First thing we did every Sunday morning is we sat on carpet squares and we sang some of the great classics that were big in Sunday schools back in my day. "The B-I-B-L-E" (yes, you sing it as letters,) "Their is a joy joy joy..down in my heart", "Jesus loves me"(I hope you heard at least of that one), and "If you' re Happy and you know it clap your hands." At this tender age I learned how to lip synch. To this day I still can not sing if people could see me sing, I freeze up, so I learned to move my lips enough to not attract attention. Though I sing just fine when no one else is around, I think.
Then after singing we split up into different groups, based on our age. My class consisted of two of us and our teacher that probably knew the bible so well because she was alive when it was first written down. Seriously though, we only had one Sunday school teacher (4th and 5th grader level) that was not at least 74 and usually fairly grumpy. Bouncanville is not overflowing with volunteers to wake up early on Sunday and teach. So Brice (the other kid) and I were the entire class. Brice was there because his Uncle was one of the people on the board and would rather be playing baseball or something. Again...not a promising start, but God doesn't need a seed drill, bucket of seeds, and fertilizer. He just needs a seed...and he got me with that.
Sunday school for a small child that normally can't read at the six year old level consists of a lot of coloring, and cutting stuff out with safety scissors and pasting, and fuzzy felts and magnet boards. I don't know how many of you went to Sunday School when you were kids, but fuzzy felts and magnet boards really were fun. You basically got to put them up on the board when the teacher read you the story so you could have something to visualize the story you were reading.
The Jesus one always gave him this little smile like he finds the whole fuzzy felt thing rather amusing, We got a couple smiling apostles, and a bunch of scowling guys that were Pharisees or grumbling wandering Israelites depending on whether you were talking about Jesus or Moses. Moses always looked kind of like a bearded old grandpa carrying around the 10 commandments (Yes...I found out who the guy carrying the rocks with words on them was!) You can't forget David and Goliath either, they all make great magnet figures...I could go on about the cute Noah animals and Zacheus (the little guy that climbed a tree to see Jesus...but fuzzy felts alone would take too much time.)
Many questions were answered but even more were forthcoming. The thing is when you are dealing with kids, you have to dumb it down to our level I suppose. It is slightly whitewashed for kids, I mean who wants to talk about the Moabite women seducing the men of Israel, David having an affair with Bethsheba and murdering her husband, Noah getting drunk, and all those smotings when you are talking to a six year old. Though since it is geared for children I got a few ideas about God that stuck with me for a while that might of been less than perfect.
I always thought of Jesus and God as two completely different people, instead of them being one. (No I am not going to try to explain the trinity here either...I can barely grasp it myself.) So I thought of God doing all the smoting and when someone screwed up God (voiced by James Earl Jones) would reach down from heaven and start smacking the crap out of people when they got too far out of line. Jesus on the other hand was always forgiving people, loving people, carrying around baby lambs and surrounded by the most ethnically correct group of children in all his photographs (A blond boy, a brunette girl, an african american boy, an Oriental girl, a Latino boy, and I believe a native american girl all in one picture apparently hanging around Jerusalem in about 30 A.D. all hugging Jesus with a happy looking lamb in the background.)
So this made me think that they were two people that just kind of worked together for a while. Call it Good God and Bad God. Jesus pulls Noah aside and says..."listen...I like you ok...but God here, he's had a rough week. I mean he is over there saying (like James Earl Jones) 'I am sorry I ever made people, I am going to flush them all down the toilet.' Noah...buddy...I don't want my partner to do that to yas. So...you make the ark, load it with animals...I am sure we could work something out."
Noah looks over at God in the corner as he cracks his knuckles and says..."s-s-s-sure Jesus...whatever you s-s-s-say."
Apparently God and Jesus had a really bad scripted Law and Order series back then.
Well eventually I would figure it out though, don't worry. I would suggest you read the unedited book with a commentary if you are new to get more of a perspective. Don't take my six year old ramblings too seriously.
Eventually they figured out that I knew how to read at a 5th grade reading level, and I got bumped up to Mrs. Avery's class (The only person younger than 74...if you recall.) I did much better there, and both of the kids in the class were able to help explain things to me if I asked nicely and I became the pet of the class. Part of it was good because it was more on my level, but I still was a kid and I liked coloring sometimes.
After being in Sunday school for a while I signed up for the memorizing portion of the class. I would get my own Bible (a Revised Standard Version) from the church in exchange I needed to memorize the 10 commandments, the 23rd Psalm, and the Lord's Prayer.
It took a little work and having my mom helping me memorize it (I used to say he leadeth me down by green crackers...I learned that it was pastures at this point.) After a week of drilling, flash cards, and trying not to break any of the 10 commandments in frustration I did it. In the presence of the entire congregation plus the parents that showed up for holidays and special occasions like kids getting Bibles, I recited them to Rev. Bridges with only one minor correction. I got a firm handshake and a hint of a smile, and Rev. Bridges presented me with my first Bible of my own.
All good things must come to an end though, and I eventually graduated from Sunday school...and it was time to try out Big people church. More to come...

Journey of a Janus pt 1, Mom's book.

This is a series I was going to do, so I could show you how I started with my faith to where I am now. I had to break it down into a series because really for me to give you any detail I had to split it up otherwise it would be more like an outline than a testimony, and I couldn't write it all at once because then this would be more like a novel. Also don't worry if I take breaks from it for a day or two and then write more about this series, think of this as the Battlestar Galactica of testimonies, the series just might stop for a little and start up without warning. Though I will try to do it every other day, unless I have to sleep....Now on with the story.
My family taught me how to read before I finished preschool, by the time I was four years old. I was reading on my own anything that could hold my attention that wasn't too challenging. I had read my Mickey Mouse books, The Big Book of Fairy Tales, Childcraft Encyclopedia, The Snoopy Encyclopedia, and was starting on World Book Encyclopedia by the time I was six. My method was simple, I would write down any words that I did not know (Which could be a lot depending on the book) and then I would bring my list to my dad who would then either tell me what they were or would look them up in the dictionary for me and read it to me.
One day (around the beginning of Volume B in the World Book) I wanted to look for something with more of a plot, since I wasn't remembering everything I read from the Encyclopedias and some of the things were getting a little dull. I had read all my books at that point, and my brother and sisters books were not only off limits but didn't look very interesting. So I went into Mom and Dad's room while they were watching some boring show about some guy named J.R. and a whole bunch of people that don't like each other (Dallas I found out later, I still never actually watched an episode of it.)
Mom and Dad had a lot of books which I called "big people books." That didn't mean that they were adults only or anything inappropriate, that meant they didn't have a lot of pictures and I might have to write down a lot more words for Dad to look up. So from the bottom of my parents big book shelf I started looking at books. (If you are wondering why I kept this a secret from my parents, my brother and sister told me not to touch anything of theirs and I didn't want to ask my parents for permission in fear they would tell me not to borrow their books.) So I looked at the titles...some traveling books, Mom's "Harlequin Romance Novels" (which I had no interest in whatsoever even if they had pictures), "Readers Digest book for Do It Yourself Projects"...finally at the top left corner I saw a big black book that said "THE HOLY BIBLE."
Now I don't know why I wanted to read a book called "The Holly Bib ell." (As I pronounced it as best as I could at that point.) Something about it though made me want to check it out more though.
So peeking in the hallway to make sure that none of family was within earshot and cracking the door slightly so I could hear for footsteps I slid a chair over to the shelf...picked up the book..and put the chair back. Then I took it into my bedroom and started trying to read it.
It was a tough book, and was an old King James style Bible. I sneezed from the dust on it, it had been a long time since anyone had moved it from the old shelf. I looked at the chapters of the book. The book of Geniuses, Exodus, Levitation (or something like that)... but in the middle I found some pictures, so I started looking at them.
A picture of two people without any clothes on that were standing behind bushes in trees in a manner that could be described as "lucky for the guy taking the picture not to see their naughty parts" (I figured they were using the bushes as a bathroom or something and they were scared of a snake.) A picture of an old guy with a beard that looked very angry dropping these big rocks with letters on them, (I figured he was mad because he dropped the rocks kind of like how Dad got when he drops his garage tools.) The last two pictures showed a man knocking on a door who had a beard and a nice face though he looked a little sad (He must be late going to his friend's house I reasoned.) The last picture showed the man nailed to a cross and a little blood (which made me a little nervous) in between two other men nailed to a cross and a bunch of people standing around. (Which made me wonder if they did this to him because he was late, and that would explain why he looked sad in the previous picture.)
So every time my parents were going out for dinner or my family was watching the J.R. Show, I would sneak in here and would do the same sneaking the chair and taking the book and bringing the chair back ritual, and read the book in my closet and when the hand of the Donald Duck clock was on the 11, I would bring the book back and put everything back the way I saw it and then go back to my room.
The second day I found an index of sorts in the beginning of a book, and since I learned how to use an Index from my encyclopedias I started reading certain stories. I had plenty of words to write down for Dad, and he was wondering just what kind of book the "Snoopy Encyclopedia" was. Words like "Verily", "Unto", "Thee", "Thou", "Thy", and so on.
I self-taught myself some interesting things in that brief period, such as the fact that they gave baby Jesus three presents when he was a baby... Gold, Frankenstein, and Meth. That Jesus rode into the city on a very bad word that I was not allowed to say even though my brother Ed said it before, and that Jesus told a lot of stories that no one could understand and healed a lot of sick people. I started giving my dad more words for him to look up such as "Leprosy", "Virgin", "Colt", and "Pilate" (Which I thought looked kind of like pirate.)
It was at this point that my sneaking the Bible around got interrupted. My parents were going out one evening, which meant that Ed and Caroline would watch TV and leave me alone. I hugged and kissed them goodnight as they walked out of the house wearing their "Going out at least til I should be in bed" clothes. As soon as they went out the door and I saw Ed turn on the TV, I went back to my parents room. I moved my chair over and I reached for the book, when suddenly I heard my dad's heavy footsteps coming back from the hall. I didn't have time to get out of there and get into my own room so I ran as quietly as I could and hid under my parents bed. (Ok ok...so I was a sneak back then, and bad at it too, but I liked the book and was afraid they would tell me not to read it since it was Mom's.)
My dad came in followed by my mom (apparently she forgot something she was supposed to bring.) My dad immediately spotted the chair by the shelf, and glanced at the Bible with incriminating six year old boy fingerprints all over it, and looked from the chair to right about where I was. His eyes looked right at me though I didn't know if he could see me. My mom saw the chair and asked my dad why he put it there. My dad cocked his head slightly in my direction and put his finger to his lips with a smirk.
My mom nodded, and while she put the chair back. My dad took the Readers Digest book from the bottom shelf and switched it with the Bible from the top shelf.
"Ann I was thinking of maybe reading one of your books sometime," my dad said with a strange voice that was louder than normal.
"Anytime you or anyone else would like to borrow one of my books, all you have to do is ask," she answered back with a strange voice too. Then they picked up the gift that my mom left on the dresser and my mom added, "I think it is time that someone started Sunday school..."
My dad nodded as he opened the door for my mother and they both walked out with strange smiles on their face.
A few days later I asked my mom if I could borrow a book to read, and she seemed surprised but she said that it would probably be ok. Then she led me to her room and asked me which book I would like to read, and I pointed to the big black book on the shelf. I found out it was called "The Holy Bible" (she pronounced it correctly,) and she told me I could borrow it anytime I wanted to as long as I put it back when I was done. From that day on my parents made sure it was on the bottom shelf so I didn't break my neck trying to get it with a chair.
Then my mom told me that she wanted to show me a place called "Sunday School."
To be continued....