I Believe in I Don’t Know
Adventures in faith
I was brought up in the church. It was like a room in our house. We moved in and out, carrying casseroles, talking with friends, going to class, sitting in the sanctuary, singing hymns, listening to sermons, praying.
As a child, I never questioned what we learned there, any more than I would have doubted the wallpaper or furniture. At age twelve I was baptized, lowered into the water by our pastor, Bob Danner, who wore hip waders and a tie. I came up wet and sputtering, thankful that he hadn’t said a prayer while I was underwater as my brother had warned.
Once baptized, I figured I was a Christian for life. Soon, though, I started asking questions. I’ve been asking them ever since.
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