Leap Of Faith

Chapter One

      The Wonderfully Delicious Cliche
                            Of Church

Pg. 1

Have you ever been to church? Depending on the church you went to, of course if you have, your experiences are different. To talk about church, I will use the most common thought of picture of church.

It's filled up, the women and little girls are dressed up, the men and little boys have suits on, everyone is standing, words appear on the wall behind the priest man, and a choir, all girls ranging from 10-50 stand in a perfect hight organized row in white gowns, and they sing beautifully. The crowd is also singing perfectly, and some are swaying, some are clapping, some have their hands up. A man in the back yells "Hallelujah" as a particular verse in the song they are singing has a deep meaning to him. Everything is perfect.

Was that picture anything like the church you went to? I can tell you it wasn't mine. Mine was naturally realistic, the mic having a few screeches during vocals, the pastor getting his words jumbled up, the choir wore normals clothes, some just stood there. The words on the wall weren't always right, the picture behind them were on the creepy side sometimes, and the baby in the back, the baby that was always there, Just. Wouldn't. Shut. Up.

Does that sound more familiar? Good, because that's the church I'll be basing my first chapter on.

I started going when I was about 9, 9 or 10. I didn't like the church in the beginning, it was a bit... I don't know. The pastor was a small man but he seemed rude to me, and his wife was even more rude. Every time she saw me she would tell me don't do this or don't do that!
Ugh, boy did I hate that church, but I suffered through it for 8 more years. After that, I only went there with my father 2 times a year: Christmas and Easer.

I had become quite lost, and I didn't know it. I coasted through life easily. I married at 18, and had my first baby a year later. I thanked my husband, because without him, I wouldn't have had my first baby, back then, I didn't thank Jesus.

It wasn't until I was 20 that I realized I needed Jesus. I remember the night I laid on my bedroom floor, on my knees, head bowed, and I was unable to scream because I had used my voice loudly all night. I sat there and whispered.

"God, don't let him die. Don't you dare let my big brother die. Don't. Let. Him. Die."
Those words passed through my head over and over again.

What was happening that night was quite personal, let's just say my brother was 26 and had drug problems, but he was still my big brother, and I didn't want to lose him.

At exactly 4am, my phone rang. He was found on the edge of town, barely alive, and he was lucky he didn't have a heart attack and die.
At that moment, I thanked God. Later on that morning, I felt pain I hadn't felt before.
My 4 year old niece asked me what I was doing in my bedroom. She had never set foot in a church, for her mother was, well, I feel a bit guilty for saying this, but she was a little slut. My brother got her pregnant and I received my two twin nieces, and I was thankful.

My brother and I stuck together, my mom disowned him, and my father, I swear he despised me, so we were together, and I didn't bring my son to the Church nursery on Sundays while I was at church. I didn't go to church. My nieces didn't go to church.

So, church. Why was it important?
Well, when I actually started going, I started getting closer to Christ.