Ok. I’m already bored with my “What Generation Am I?” direction. I am going to come back to it, but I’m just not in the academic research mode right now. This is supposed to be all about self-absorbed expression and I have (as usual) gotten into “teaching-mode.” I have to remember, this is about me and my whining and not you and your insight. So I am going to launch into…”My History with the Lord.”
I have excellent parents. They are excellent people. They sacrificed for us. They focused on my brother and me at home. My dad is the most selfless person I know. He has always been focused on others, especially my mom, brother and me. I had a strong moral base built at home that I witnessed and experienced. I talked daily with my parents and I listened to how they commented on life, politics, the world, their friends and community, and church. That church was the Methodist church of central and northern Iowa.
My Dad was raised Lutheran like all good Danes and even considered going into the ministry as a Lutheran Minister. Instead he went into the Marines and then he went into retail. My mom was a Methodist. When Dad went to the Lutheran minister in Iowa Falls about marrying him and my mom, he was shocked (and hurt) to find out the Lutheran minister wouldn’t marry a Lutheran and a Methodist. (A fact that still makes my dad bristle to this day whens he mentions it.) So we were Methodists.
Being in retail management in the 60’s meant we moved a lot, so we were members of many Methodist Churches (Indianola, Mt. Pleasant, Indianola again, Algona, and finally Knoxville) five moves from 1st to 6th grades for me.
We went to church, Sunday school, Vacation Bible School, a couple weeks of camp, a couple of lock-in’s, some MYF (Methodist Youth Fellowship), choir with Christmas and Easter Cantatas each year, pancake breakfasts, paper drives, general community activities.
I know I wasn’t paying much attention (I didn’t pay attention to much of anything) but I really don’t remember hearing much about Jesus during all those times. Somehow I got the Idea that belief in Jesus was optional, or extra, or for the radical Jesus-People (remember-born in the 60’s.) I guess I believed there was a god somewhere. I knew there was Jesus, but perhaps he was a legend or an amalgamation of many other teachers. But for me he was a side character and I had no regard for him. (The “de-emphasis” of Jesus was so rooted in me that it took years, even after I was saved, to recognize the place Jesus holds in all of existence and in my own heart.)
In 6th grade I went through “Confirmation” class where I learned that my “sprinkling” as an infant forgave the “original sin” I was born with, that my parents (and congregation) made a promise that I would be raised in the church, and that I was now “confirming” that decision my parents made on my behalf. At the end of that class we were all presented to the congregations and considered official “members” of the Methodist Church. On that Sunday we were asked to write our names on a card and the Minister (Reverend Deaver) would come down the line, put his hand on our heads, read our names and the declare us “in.” So I wrote my name on the card, CHRISTOPHER LYNN ROBIN GEIL. (Only after the ceremony did I find out my middle name was not actually “Robin.” Thanks Mom.) Rev. Deaver came down the line reading the names perfectly…until he got to me. In his booming, Reverendy voice he declared me, “Chritopher (pause) Lynn (pause) Robin (uncomfortably-long-pause) Gail (not-so-muffled-snickeres.)” To this day Kevin Long refers to me as “Gail.” So I was “In”, “Confirmed”, “Memberized”, and completely lost with the worst yet to come.
chris
No comments:
Post a Comment