by Scott Birch

Created on: October 27, 2008   Last Updated: November 04, 2008

I will be nineteen next month. To you, the reader, it would probably seem that I am ill equipped to write about such a topic objectively. I might even agree with you on that, not so much because of my age, but because I have yet to join the ranks of the nonjudgmental majority and am determined to stay true to myself and my convictions.

I was raised in a strict Christian home. I am the youngest member of my family, with three siblings, all of whom are at least nine years my senior. As early as I can remember, television, the celebration of Christmas and even playing cards were regarded as sinful and worldly.

I vividly remember loud arguments as a child, many nights falling asleep to the sound of heated exchanges that involved my mother, sister or brother. My father was always the common denominator.

Like I said, it wasn't until I was about eleven years old that we finally had cable television, and up until then I had obsessively watched religious story videos. A fond memory of mine is watching a David and Goliath cartoon which was part of a complete set of Bible stories which my parents had bought for me, since I liked them so much. I watched that one movie so much that I could recite the every line. I would dawn my plastic armor, helmet and sword and stand at the top of the stairs as Goliath, yelling, "Who will fight me?" Then as quickly as I could I would throw down my armor and run to the bottom of the stairs to yell the fitting response in my role as David.

I also remember watching movies about the crucifixion and being enthralled by the violence. My father and I constructed a whip of nine tails made from string with a bamboo handle for me to play with. This may sound twisted, but I would get a great deal of enjoyment out of flogging the arm of our living room couch, pretending I was the Centurion scathing the shoulders of Christ. Since most of our furniture was a dark floral pattern and the material was some kind of imitation suede (the kind that would leave marks when you moved your hand across it), the whip would leave lash marks, which intensified my imagination.

Early on I was extremely interested in religion, I was very eager not to become what my Dad labeled " a rebellious teenager" (which is the title that two out of my three siblings had already earned).

I was always interested in the darkest aspects of my parents' religion, and fortunately for me, it involved the Old Testament (probably one of the most violent pieces of writing ever published). When

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