Memoir Monday - Facing Tomorrow

My journey with faith only became real in adulthood, and has grown stronger the older I get.

People sometimes talk harshly about someone being religious, but that has absolutely nothing to do with faith.
The sad part is that many so-called 'religious' people who faithfully go to church, or whatever their places of worship are called, do not live out their faith once they step outside those buildings and go into the world.

It's awful to think that many wars have been fought throughout the ages in the name of religion.

No wonder that there are so many skeptics in the world!

I grew up in a Christian home, and the 'done' thing during those years, was that children attended Sunday School, followed by confirmation classes in our final year of school.

Getting my brother Werner up on a Sunday morning was a constant battle.
He had a dry sense of humour from a young age, and would tell Mom that he was not going to be a preacher one day, so there was no reason for him to go to Sunday School:)

My head was in the clouds during my teen years, and it simply did not make sense that I had to study, and pass a written test to affirm my faith and commit myself to following Jesus.
My friend and I did our little group studies with The Beatles playing in the background; Mom understood we weren't being disrespectful, we were just crazy teens.

We went to a conservative Afrikaans church, very much fire and brimstone, with much finger-wagging!
I cannot remember ever going back there after Confirmation.

No wonder Dad Malan used to drop Mom Lily, my brothers, and me off at church and go back home to fiddle in his garage.
We used to joke about it, saying Mom represented my Dad in church;)

The finger-wagging became too much, and Mom found a real home in the Pinetown Methodist Church, thanks to my aunt; a place of worship whose vision is:

“ A Christ healed Africa for the healing of nations”.

Post-retirement, my Dad took on a half-day job as a handyman for the church. He was very touched by the kindness of everyone, their mission work, and the short worship sessions during staff meetings made a huge impact on him.
That's where my father's journey of faith began.

Arthur and I decided to get married in the same church and were given the option of going for pre-marital counseling sessions. That in turn is where both our journeys of worship and faith in a God of love, began.

I still find it hard separating the two of us into only 'me'!

It was pure chance that he grew up in a branch of the same church, in the suburb where our home is.
We ended up worshipping in that church where we made life-long friends.

Our faith and love of our neighbour did not begin and end at the church door.

Although I rarely go to church now, I cannot imagine living a life without having faith in our loving Father, especially during difficult times, the last year especially.

I have friends from different faiths, accept them for who they are, and don't question their beliefs.

Jesus told us to love our neighbour as we love ourselves, unconditionally, and I hope that is the kind of love that shines from me to the world, as it did with my parents, and my beloved Arthur.

Hive account@ericvancewalton's Memoir Monday - Week Thirteen (6/3 - 6/9) keeps on challenging us to dig into our deepest memories, some long forgotten ones that suddenly springs back to life.
Thank you for that, Eric!