Over the next series of posts I’m going to tell you “my story” of how I came to know Christ and accept Him as my Savior. Each one of us who are Christians have a different story on how we have received the grace of God and it’s your story that only you can tell. The advantage of sharing your story is that no one can argue with your personal experience. Here goes!
I wasn’t born into a family that would be considered a Christian family. I would say it was more of a moral family. We were taught the difference between right and wrong, we were taught how to be respectful and how to be the best people we could be. But there was no Bible in our house, we didn’t bow our heads in prayer and thank God for His blessings on us or our food, and we weren’t drug to church every Sunday.
I don’t know if it was because of my grandparents urging or because of the fact that friends of my parents were doing it with their kids, but we went to Sunday School every once in a while at the local Catholic Church in our hometown. We went through all of the ceremonial practices of the Church: first communion and confirmation. I would even go to mass sometimes after Sunday school after begging my parents to come back and get me an hour later because some of my other friends happened to be going that Sunday. Most of the mass we just messed around in the pew and didn’t pay a bit of attention.
After I made my confirmation in eighth grade, I would say I maybe went occasionally on Easter and Christmas (usually because a girl was going too). Religion was not a big part of my life and it wasn’t something I was interested in. Looking back I don’t remember it ever being a topic of conversation amongst any of my friends nor did I ever remember my parent’s friends talking about church. It was something that was very private to people.
In my next post I’ll share my story of my college experience at a Catholic school.
Have a great day and God bless.
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