Seek And Ye Shall Find Him

My intent here is not to irritate anyone.  This is just to highlight the holy struggles of a mountain boy.

When I was growing up, most of the folks in Loudon were either Baptists or Methodist.  There were Presbyterians, Church of Christ, Seventh Day Adventists and Pentecostals also, but the Baptists and Methodists outnumbered them all.

We were Baptists;   Missionary Baptists to be specific.  You have to be specific because there were Southern Baptist, Primitive Baptist, Missionary Baptists, and just plain Baptists.  I’m not sure what the official definition of a Missionary Baptist is, but it seemed to be fairly loose.  When someone didn’t like something or someone at a particular church, they either moved to another church or started one of their own.  Now, that may sound a bit facetious, but that’s the way it seemed to me.

I started at Riverview Baptist Church on Main Street, and went there for most of my childhood.  When I was 15 or so, we moved to Calvary Baptist Church up on Old 72.  I’m really not sure why we moved, it must have been one of those disagreement things.  While at Riverview, I was baptized at the boat ramp just below the old Chair Factory.

The first preacher I remember was Preacher Davis.  I don’t recall his first name.  And I’m probably not far off when I say the first sermon I heard was something along the lines of ‘Jesus is coming, and boy is he pissed’.  Okay, that time I was being facetious.

But that did seem to be the topic most of the time.   For almost 60 years I’ve heard we are in the “Last Days” before the second coming of Christ, and since I know my birth isn’t one of the so called ‘signs’, I’m betting that topic has been used a whole host of Sundays.   Actually, I read something once that said the Apostles fully expected Christ to return during their lifetime, so His return has been a topic for centuries.

Again, I’m not trying to belittle or berate anyone’s faith.  You are what you are for reasons that are good enough for you and that pretty much ends the discussion. 

I remember one Sunday; some of the men were hanging out in front of the church smoking their last cigarette before the service started, just as another fella walked up the street in front of the church.  One of the men actually said something like “He’s okay, he’s just Catholic.”  I had known the man they were talking about all my life and he didn’t look any different to me, but in my limited experience, I wasn’t overly sure what being Catholic meant, let alone what it was supposed to look like.

Now, fast forward to basic training after I had joined the Air Force -- to say I was a little bewildered and confused would not be overstating it.  I was very bewildered and confused, and more than a touch scared.  I think the idea of military basic training is to scare the bejesus out of you so they can find out if you are going to cooperated or be a problem child.  They don’t have time to individualize the training, so they get in your face hard and fast.

Anyway, in what was a very hostile environment, you turn to things that are familiar.  The only one I could think of was church, and the first weekend I could leave the immediate area of the barracks, that is where I went.  Okay, so call me backward or ignorant or whatever you want, but it honestly never occurred to me that there would be anyone else at that church but good ol’ Baptists.  There was even a sign out front that displayed the service schedule and I didn’t bother to read it.  So what did I do?    I walked right into a Catholic mass. 

I knew immediately I was in the wrong place, but I wasn’t about to make a fool out of myself by getting up and walking out.  So, I stayed.  It was a learning experience.  We sat, we stood, we kneeled, we stood again.  When we get to the sermon part, do you know what happened?  He didn’t raise his voice.  Not one promise of hell fire and damnation.   I was stunned.  Whoever heard of church without yelling, shouting, hand clapping and at least a few amens?   I’ve known people who felt it was a wasted sermon if the preacher didn’t ‘get right’.

I realize I’m talking about 2 small churches in a small southern town, but that was the only world I knew to this point, so it was the only comparison I could make.

Let’s fast forward again, this time to August 1971, when I met the girl of my dreams.  We were so far into each other we were talking marriage of all things.  But she was Catholic, and I had something else to worry about.  How would she be accepted back home?  I had no doubt that a few of the people I knew would look at me and shake their heads.  How could I do such a thing?

As it turned out, a few years later, there wasn’t any problem, or at least not any long range problems.  We did get married, but it didn’t take, so that was that.

Several years later, I met another lady and decided to get married again.  Guess what?  She was Catholic too.  Again, I received several warnings from well-meaning people.  Things like, “You’ll have to sign a paper that you will raise your kids Catholic.”  Maybe some folks did, but I didn’t.  I haven’t seen that form yet.  

If you wanted to get married in the military, you and your intended had to take counseling that basically covered every aspect of married life.  They didn’t want any surprises to pop up later.  Part of that was with a chaplain.  He was a good ol’ Baptist boy and agreed during our first meeting that he would be happy to perform the ceremony when the time came.  Unfortunately, he had second thoughts later.

Later on, he asked us in which religion would the kids be raised.  We told him we weren’t planning on any more kids, so that was a non-issue to us.  (Funny how that works, there would be two more).  Anyway, he let it slide but occasionally would bring it up again, and we would say the same things, we weren’t planning on any other kids.

Finally, on Tuesday before we were to be married on Saturday, he called me at work and said something to the effect of, “I am so sorry, but I just realized I won’t be in town on Saturday.”  You could have knocked me over with a feather.  So, here was this officer and gentleman who suddenly realized he wouldn’t be in town and we had been planning this wedding for at least a couple of months.  Yeah.  Right.  I’ll go to my grave believing he baled because we wouldn’t commit to raising the kids Baptists.

But, as they say, all’s well that ends well.  I even converted to Catholicism myself after a couple of years, with absolutely zero input from my wife, and didn’t give one thought to what anybody else, including my family, would think about it.   It’s none of their business.

There’s something else I have come to realize.  I am no theologian, but to me religion is man-made, not God made.   When I clash with a religion, I’m clashing with other men, since all religions are ran the way those who run it dictate it should be ran.  So I don’ t have to please anyone but myself… and God.