Thursday, November 15, 2012
Surving a broken home, I was entirely unequipped to wrestle with the realities and responsibilities that came with what I perceived, at that time, as being a functioning family of believers sharing a common experience. And most pointedly, opening myself up to the experience of a perfect relationship with a perfect Father was a completely alien concept to my mind: how could I even begin to appreciate such an experience when my biological father and I got along so poorly?
Saturday, November 3, 2012
I recall being about 8 years old and asking my dad to take me to church. He was obliging, even gave me my first bible and had me baptised. But after teaching myself how to spell more compicated words by using the hymnal, I decided that, well, maybe church wasn't for me. I was bored. And at the ripe age of 8, I declined further attendence.