by Carol Gustke

Created on: June 06, 2009

My religious training begin at the Congregational church. The church building was large and stately, with a bell tower on top. Everyone who was anyone belonged to the Congregational church.

At age four, I played the part of a Daisy in a Sunday school production given in front of the parents. The girl standing next to me was dressed as a sun flower. In the middle of the song, she peed her pants and started crying.

Every summer, I made the rounds to vacation Bible school. Baptist, Methodist, Christian Reformed and Lutheran. I memorized Bible verses, and stuffed myself with Kool-Aid and cookies. Some weeks I attended two different churches the same day. One in the morning and one in the afternoon. It depended on how hungry I was.

I joined the junior choir at age twelve. Each Sunday, we would don our starched gowns with the huge bow in front, and in unison, march like penguins down the aisle, singing, , "Holy, Holy Holy,"

My senior year, I joined the youth group. Every Sunday evening there would be dancing in the basement of the church, along with a supper prepared by the older ladies. When the new pastor decided that dancing should be done somewhere else beside the church, I quit the group.

My girlfriend belonged to the Christian Science church, so I thought I would give that a try. When I developed a abscess in my nose, I refused to visit a doctor, and tried ignoring the pain like Scientist told me to. With my face swelled up and my eyes just slits, my Mother marched me to the doctor who lanced it. Maybe God did use doctors after all.

If anyone had asked me what I believed, spiritually, it would have been a conglomeration of a liberal sinner, who was water baptized, born again, conservative Bible critic, probably demon possessed and on my way to Hell.

With all this baggage, I managed to marry a Pentecostal. Every Sunday, we clapped, shouted and praised the Lord. I went forward for prayer so often, I wore a path in the carpet. The first time I was "slain in the spirit," I thought I had had a slight stroke. I dragged my children up front for prayer to get the spirit of rebellion cast out of them. I had second thoughts on that when I caught my daughter casting a demon out of her rag doll.

It took years to undo, re-think and understand what I really believed, and why. Today, when a Methodist, Mormon, Baptist, Lutheran, or Pentecostal comes knocking at my door to invite me to church, they usually leave, either converted or scratching their head.

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