I have not considered myself a Christian since I was twelve years old. Prior to that age, I went to Sunday School; then I went to Church every Sunday; I was an usher in our church (at twelve, I stood six feet, two inches tall and was bigger than most of the men in the Church).My Mother's family had been deeply involved in the Church: Ministers, Deacons, choir-ladies, and organists. My father's father had been a glazier, working on church windows, prior to World War One. One of my great-uncles was a Minister and then became a Professor of Theology. My ancestors came to the American colonies, starting in 1622, seeking religious freedom. I come from a long line of devout Christians and I was a believer myself, until something unusual happened.During a communion service, the choir sang the hymn, "Saved by the Blood of the Crucified One." I was standing at the side of the church, waiting to relay the Collection Plate, when I had a vision that freaked me out. I walked out of my Church.After disassociating from the Christian Church as a child, I find myself coming, through my own experiences, to the same message that Jesus taught, that we should love one another as God loves us.
