I have this urge to explain where I am, in terms of my relationship with God...
I was not raised to have any one faith, er, I was raised to believe in God; the Christian God. My mother was always very up front with letting me be able to choose what I wanted to believe; with this freedom I ultimately choose not to believe when I was fifteen. I do not fully understand my reasoning even to this day, but it something along these lines:
I was a sophomore in high school, and at that time in my life, I had no real idea what God was, other than the idea of the Christmas god. My former wrestling coach was (is) a born again Christian and led a local group of my peers in FCA. Seeing as how I could be around my friends more, and at that same time, further my knowledge of this god-figure, I eagerly joined in. As I attended more and more meetings, I found myself joyfully accepting the idea of Christ as my saviour. And then the whole idea of a merciful God came crashing down. Literally. The local FCA conference I was gleefully attending came to an abrupt halt when it was announced that, much to Huskernation disbelief, Brooke Berringer, the key note speaker, was killed in a plane crash. On his way to the event. I was crushed! How could a loving God take someone who was supposed to come tell his story of how he found God?! And the conference become a memorial to the quarterback. I know all of this sounds childish, but I was after all, only fifteen. ( please no jokes referring to Rilo Kiley) Fast forward about eightish years... after a period of being a proud atheist, then an apathetic agnostic, I came to believe that if I were truly meant to believe in God, then by some miracle, He would show Himself to me. And He did. After meeting numerous people all at once, including my future wife, who were saved; these people eagerly trying to convert me, I decided to give the Book another look. And that brings me to today, April 26, 2010.
I have traveled a wondrous journey. At twenty eight, I have decided that there is so much more than what I have been introduced to. I cannot seem to find a church, or for that matter a denomination, that I can truly say feels right. That is until reading the wonderful book, Anna Karenina. I was exposed to so much more than an adulterous romantic. The book is full of religious connotations. And, not understanding Russia in the late 1800's, I was very thankful for the end notes in the novel. Throughout the tale, Eastern Orthodox was paramount. And I realised, that this is the same religion that my friends were learning about, in person, through their journey to Christmation in the Orthodox Church. This is the church that I have come to realise can possibly fulfill my desire for a rich tradition in Christendom. One that is lacking in other Christian faiths. This is the church that I want to attend with all of my heart. And I am proud to state that.
But, I have yet to attend even one service. The end of Kim's pregnancy coincided with my new found desire. Then the birth of Seamus; then the news about Seamus having milk soy protein intolerance (MSPI); then Holy week (my thoughts being that it is such a big deal, that I would not want to jump into The Church during the holiest of holy times).
And now it is two weeks after Pascha. Pentecost is upon us, and the desire to attend is still burning bright. I keep telling myself, that we will make it Sunday. And you know what? We will.
I was not raised to have any one faith, er, I was raised to believe in God; the Christian God. My mother was always very up front with letting me be able to choose what I wanted to believe; with this freedom I ultimately choose not to believe when I was fifteen. I do not fully understand my reasoning even to this day, but it something along these lines:
I was a sophomore in high school, and at that time in my life, I had no real idea what God was, other than the idea of the Christmas god. My former wrestling coach was (is) a born again Christian and led a local group of my peers in FCA. Seeing as how I could be around my friends more, and at that same time, further my knowledge of this god-figure, I eagerly joined in. As I attended more and more meetings, I found myself joyfully accepting the idea of Christ as my saviour. And then the whole idea of a merciful God came crashing down. Literally. The local FCA conference I was gleefully attending came to an abrupt halt when it was announced that, much to Huskernation disbelief, Brooke Berringer, the key note speaker, was killed in a plane crash. On his way to the event. I was crushed! How could a loving God take someone who was supposed to come tell his story of how he found God?! And the conference become a memorial to the quarterback. I know all of this sounds childish, but I was after all, only fifteen. ( please no jokes referring to Rilo Kiley) Fast forward about eightish years... after a period of being a proud atheist, then an apathetic agnostic, I came to believe that if I were truly meant to believe in God, then by some miracle, He would show Himself to me. And He did. After meeting numerous people all at once, including my future wife, who were saved; these people eagerly trying to convert me, I decided to give the Book another look. And that brings me to today, April 26, 2010.
I have traveled a wondrous journey. At twenty eight, I have decided that there is so much more than what I have been introduced to. I cannot seem to find a church, or for that matter a denomination, that I can truly say feels right. That is until reading the wonderful book, Anna Karenina. I was exposed to so much more than an adulterous romantic. The book is full of religious connotations. And, not understanding Russia in the late 1800's, I was very thankful for the end notes in the novel. Throughout the tale, Eastern Orthodox was paramount. And I realised, that this is the same religion that my friends were learning about, in person, through their journey to Christmation in the Orthodox Church. This is the church that I have come to realise can possibly fulfill my desire for a rich tradition in Christendom. One that is lacking in other Christian faiths. This is the church that I want to attend with all of my heart. And I am proud to state that.
But, I have yet to attend even one service. The end of Kim's pregnancy coincided with my new found desire. Then the birth of Seamus; then the news about Seamus having milk soy protein intolerance (MSPI); then Holy week (my thoughts being that it is such a big deal, that I would not want to jump into The Church during the holiest of holy times).
And now it is two weeks after Pascha. Pentecost is upon us, and the desire to attend is still burning bright. I keep telling myself, that we will make it Sunday. And you know what? We will.
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