One of my earliest memories is of a plaque my mother had handcrafted (shown left). It depicted verses from Corinthians 13, which detail Love. I remember being enthralled by its simple but beautiful artistry. In many ways, this is how I saw Christianity, as my mother and upbringing pedestaled it as the only source of joy. It took me many years to realize life was the source of Joy, not God. This is the first part of that story.
I was brought into this world by two very young evangelicals in the UK during the 80's. My mother was strictly religious, having devoted her life to God. I never saw my father as religious; he left both my mother and religion when I was just 4. Looking after my 2 year old sister and I, times were tough for my mother who had no useful extended education or income beyond minimum wage jobs and alimony. I expect the hardship helped fuel her religious devolution, combined with her sisters and parents who were all devoutly religious and a constant source of support.
We went to church weekly; God was the central theme of everything my mother did. When I was 5, I remember being tucked into the lower bunk bed by my mother and asking Jesus into my heart. My mother had prompted me to do so, explaining that doing so was the only way to heaven. I felt that what conspired that night was somehow of great significance. I was right, it was the start of my full indoctrination. To further my education I was sent to an small expensive private Christian school my mother could barely afford. As intended, it enforced my early beliefs and kept me covered in cotton wool. Bible verse memorization and assemblies that almost always involved God were part of every day school life. Ultimately classmates and faculty were kind, and being a kid was usually simple and fun.
It wasn't all joy though, fear of hell was a powerful pacifier. I remember feeling pangs of desperation and despair when I'd doubt my faith, as all questioning and criticism was replaced with complete and overwhelming dread. A feeling I can still remember vividly to this day.
My school headmaster & our church pastor during an assembly re-enacting Jesus washing his disciples feet. Hard core!
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