worshiping in their own way and we must respect that okay?”
It wasn’t okay, not then and still not now. They should have talked to me if not at that time then soon after. My mother knew as well and after I ran into the church still calling for Jonathan, she told him that I should be told the truth.
Faith of the Blind
I entered the empty lobby of Moody Church; I heard nothing but the sound of my own footsteps and immediately knew this was not a place where truth would be found. The marble floors I am sure cost twice what was installed in my apartment lobby, it was here that people would congregate after morning classes before what we called main church.
The lobby led to all points in the church. West led toward the lower rooms which held the classrooms for the toddlers, children, and young adults. By going south you would wrap around the hallway outside the grand auditorium. Going southwest you could either go up to the second and third floors that held more rooms and led out to the balcony overlooking the auditorium or head down to where a full kitchen and dining area was built.
I headed downstairs and thought about how blind faith could be comforting especially at a time like this. I also thought about what would happen if I did find people there, what would they be able to tell me? I assumed they would believe this event was caused by God, if there is one thing religion is good at its spreading fear. Why else would one believe?
The church kitchen was empty and immaculately clean, it did not look as if anyone had been there at all. The dining area was the same. Here my family attended banquets for various events. I hated being forced to sit here with these people I did not know or care about talking about their wealth and businesses and now here I was searching for those very people hoping they would be there.
A long carpeted corridor ran underneath the main hallway outside the auditorium. All the rooms were empty. I stopped at the last room on my left. My father was part of a study group in the small classroom with the large glass window. Here married men would discuss their faith and how it applied to their marriage and family.
In our home religion did not play a large part in our day-to-day lives. We were allowed to play just like every other kid in the neighborhood. There was not any specific television show or music we could not listen to within reason. Even for most meals we did not say grace. I believed that for our family religion was more of a safety net. A moveable comfort zone that allowed us to feel protected and loved at all times.
Continuing my search I headed upstairs to the second floor. Again another long carpeted hallway. Directly to the left of the stairs was a large room. This was my first Sunday school classroom. It was divided into three sections. There was what they called the rest and reflection area. Posters with various bible verses and pictures of biblical figures adorned the walls. It was there the younger children would sleep awaiting their parents to return from main church.
A large open area near the back of the room next to the windows was the play area. Carefully selected toys were given out to children allowing them to believe they were having fun, being independent, but in reality even during innocent play religious dogmas were being fed to them.
In the center of the room was a circle of small plastic multi-colored chairs. As a child I would rush from the play area when the Sunday school teacher would ring her tiny brass bell with the wooden handle. I wanted a blue chair, my favorite color. Miss Grant would sit in a large wooden chair in the center of the circle. Holding her bible close to her she would tell us stories about good versus evil and how God and Jesus loved us all.
I just stood there staring at the chair. Miss Grant was long gone, but that wooden chair was still there. I could feel memories creeping to the front of my mind.
It wasn’t okay, not then and still not now. They should have talked to me if not at that time then soon after. My mother knew as well and after I ran into the church still calling for Jonathan, she told him that I should be told the truth.
Faith of the Blind
I entered the empty lobby of Moody Church; I heard nothing but the sound of my own footsteps and immediately knew this was not a place where truth would be found. The marble floors I am sure cost twice what was installed in my apartment lobby, it was here that people would congregate after morning classes before what we called main church.
The lobby led to all points in the church. West led toward the lower rooms which held the classrooms for the toddlers, children, and young adults. By going south you would wrap around the hallway outside the grand auditorium. Going southwest you could either go up to the second and third floors that held more rooms and led out to the balcony overlooking the auditorium or head down to where a full kitchen and dining area was built.
I headed downstairs and thought about how blind faith could be comforting especially at a time like this. I also thought about what would happen if I did find people there, what would they be able to tell me? I assumed they would believe this event was caused by God, if there is one thing religion is good at its spreading fear. Why else would one believe?
The church kitchen was empty and immaculately clean, it did not look as if anyone had been there at all. The dining area was the same. Here my family attended banquets for various events. I hated being forced to sit here with these people I did not know or care about talking about their wealth and businesses and now here I was searching for those very people hoping they would be there.
A long carpeted corridor ran underneath the main hallway outside the auditorium. All the rooms were empty. I stopped at the last room on my left. My father was part of a study group in the small classroom with the large glass window. Here married men would discuss their faith and how it applied to their marriage and family.
In our home religion did not play a large part in our day-to-day lives. We were allowed to play just like every other kid in the neighborhood. There was not any specific television show or music we could not listen to within reason. Even for most meals we did not say grace. I believed that for our family religion was more of a safety net. A moveable comfort zone that allowed us to feel protected and loved at all times.
Continuing my search I headed upstairs to the second floor. Again another long carpeted hallway. Directly to the left of the stairs was a large room. This was my first Sunday school classroom. It was divided into three sections. There was what they called the rest and reflection area. Posters with various bible verses and pictures of biblical figures adorned the walls. It was there the younger children would sleep awaiting their parents to return from main church.
A large open area near the back of the room next to the windows was the play area. Carefully selected toys were given out to children allowing them to believe they were having fun, being independent, but in reality even during innocent play religious dogmas were being fed to them.
In the center of the room was a circle of small plastic multi-colored chairs. As a child I would rush from the play area when the Sunday school teacher would ring her tiny brass bell with the wooden handle. I wanted a blue chair, my favorite color. Miss Grant would sit in a large wooden chair in the center of the circle. Holding her bible close to her she would tell us stories about good versus evil and how God and Jesus loved us all.
I just stood there staring at the chair. Miss Grant was long gone, but that wooden chair was still there. I could feel memories creeping to the front of my mind.
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