Recently I have been following the blog of a friend of mine who has been telling the story of their journey of faith and it has inspired me to tell my own story. Personally I find reading and writing stories of our lives very helpful, empowering, therapeutic and critically important to self awareness and the transformation process....so....without rambling any further here's the first part of the adventures of Bilbo

But before we begin....A quick reference to my nickname Bilbo, in case you were wondering...

The nickname Bilbo was first coined by my close friend Damon Johnson back in 1989 in reference to my “obsession” with anything related to the Lord of the Rings. Personally I really don’t mind because hobbits are so cute, cuddly, and likeable, for the most part, and sharing a little celebrity status with the hero of the The Hobbit is just fine with me. Now, if the film studios could just get their act together and start working on the production of the Hobbit I anticipate my reputation could reach new legendary status. Recently, thanks to Jackson's LOTR's masterpiece, my nephew Frodo has upstaged me in the hero department but that could change if Weta Workshop and the grand wizard himself, Peter Jackson, have thier way...afterall....before there was the story of Frodo's travels to Mordor and back there was own my adventure of encounters with Trolls, a dragon named Smaug, and those obnoxious dwarfs....


Preface:

My story/adventure will chronicle and emphasize my journey of faith and my relationship with Christianity and the Christian subculture over the past 30 years. I will limit details regarding my personal "family history" because of privacy issues, except, when I consider it critically necessary for context and understanding.

The Beginning

I was born in 1957 in Santa Cruz California and was adopted by my grandparents when I was one year old shortly after my parents divorced. I don’t know any of the circumstances behind my parents divorce because I never really knew my father or my mother. Over the years, I saw my father only a handful of times and I have not seen or had any contact with my mother since 1975. Over the years,I never really thought much about the situation with my parents but I now realize that my parents abandonment of me has caused some long lasting determental effects on my interpersonal relationship with others and the Christian subculture, in general.

Both of my grandparents are from Oklahoma and they came to California in the 1940's to work in the fields which I guess makes me a descendant of the Okies which may help explain my homespun personality and writing style. Neither of my grandparents graduated from high school and I am not even certain if they ever attended high school to tell you the truth. I don’t remember too much about my childhood and I suspect it was pretty normal until I reached Junior High. During the 7th grade my grandfather was rushed to the hospital one day with a blood clot in his leg and 24 hours later he unexpectably died. This was a dramatic event particularly for my mother because she was totally dependant upon my grandfather. When he died she had never worked outside the home, had no education, and couldn't even drive for herself. She never did learn how to drive. To this day I don't know how she raised my sister and I. The death of my grandfather also had a dramatic effect on my life as well. When my grandfather died I was immediately thrown into the role as “the man of the house” and that’s when I began to identify myself as a caretaker, a role that I have carried on into my adult life and into many of my relationships. I was forced to become self sufficient and independent both physically and emotionally at a very young age. I started working full time in the summers when I was only 14 years old and I worked during the school year part time during all four years of high school. I mention all this to say that this probably helps explain why I have developed into a somewhat nuanced independent thinker. I didn't really have any authority figures to turn to for guidance or emotional support much of the time so I turned to the only resources at my disposal which was me...which...also might help to explain why I don't like people telling me what and how to think. Appeals to authority or systematic thought just don't work with me, especially if combined with manipulative tactics of guilt, shame, or appeals to God or country.



Introduction to Christianity

Although my parents did not attend church they did send me to church each week on the Sunday School bus so I was introduced and I guess you could say indoctrinated into the Christian subculture at an early age. I really enjoyed going to church for the most part, probably because of the social angle, and my interest in Church lasted until about my fresmen year in high school at which time I stopped going. Although I don’t remember too much about going to church as a young child I do remember that I did have a lot of fear and anxiety regarding hell. For years I used to have a recurring dream where the devil was dressed as an airline attendant. I could see him standing at the bottom of the steps of the plane waiting to take my ticket but somehow I intuitively understood that the plane was going to hell. I don’t remember ever boarding the plane but I do remember the devil working very hard to entice me to get on the plane and I always woke up before I boarded the plane. To this day I have no idea why I had this recurring dream but I now suspect it might have had something to do with the “hell and brimstone sermons” that were regularly preached in the Baptist/Fundamentalist churches I attended as a child back in the 1960’s. …By the time I reached the eighth grade I no longer wanted to go to church for some reason so I faked being sick so I wouldn't have to go to church. Eventually my mom stopped bugging me go to church and I don’t remember going back to church on a regular basis until my “spiritual” awakening” during my senior year in high school.

My first Christian Spiritual Awakening

Although I didn’t go to church during most of my high school years the vast majority of my close friends were Christians and some of them made a few feeble attempts to convert me from time to time or ask me to go to church but I resisted all of their sincere attempts to convert me although I did go to church with them from time to time. I don’t remember enjoying going to church with my friends and I suspect I may have intuitively associated Christianity with guilt, fear, and shame and I experienced enough of those feelings at home and at school on a regular basis so I probably saw no need for Christianity but that would all change in the summer of my senior year in high school…My initial Christian Spiritual Awakening or Born Again experience occurred about one week after my mom was converted by a door to door Pentecostal evangelist by the name of Brother John. Brother John was an enthusiastic evangelist who showed up at our doorstep one hot afternoon in August and I remember him as a very charismatic individual who was on “fire for the Lord” as we used to say. I don’t remember any of the details of how or why my mom decided to let Brother John into our house that hot day in August but my mom was a lonely woman who carried a tremendous burden of trying to raise my sister and I without much support and therefore she must have had a great need for God or something to comfort and help her through many dark times. One week after my mom’s conversion Brother John asked me if I wanted to pray the “sinners prayer” and I said yes, probably in large part, because I didn’t want to disappoint my mom. My mom’s approval meant the world to me at the time and I am sure that I intuitively understood that becoming a Christian would please her. Initially I really didn’t “feel” any different after I prayed the sinner’s prayer but as time passed I began to feel more and more deeply moved by the love of God as I read the scriptures and listened to Christian music. Christian music played an important role in my early development and I still have very fond memories of listening to Love Song, Evie, Chuck Girard, Larry Norman and the rest of the Maranatha gang....Shortly after my initial conversion experience I met a sweetheart of a Christian girl named Carol and we started going to a small fundamentalist Freewill Baptist church together and during the next 3 to 4 months I was on an emotional high like I never experienced before and I have many fond memories of feeling really loved unconditionally for the first time in my life but the deep love that initially melted me would gradually began to wane as I became more involved in the world of Christian legalism.