Joshua Bechtel's Blog

Survivor’s Guilt (Formerly, AO)

Chapter 1
“Thank Me later.”

“What are you doing, Rand?”

“Depends who the heck is asking, muttered a voice that sounded slurred and almost lifeless.

“You know who this is. What have you been doing, drinking it up again and got yourself into trouble, man?”

“Why in the Sam are you asking me?”
“Because I am worried about you.”
“Why are you worried? Please leave me alone.”
“Just going by the tone of your voice, it is not safe for you to be left alone.”

“If you insist on bothering me, I guess you will have to be witness to what I am about to do.” There was a scraping and shuffling of chair and table legs as if they were being moved around for some reason.

“What are you about to do, Rand?”

“Damned if I care, come and look if you are so bent on knowing, whoever the heck you are out there,” said the slurred sounding voice of Rand.

“Rand!”
“What? Who the heck are you?’
“It is me.”
“What is “it is me” supposed to mean?” There was a click of a pistol as Rand said this.”

There was also a sudden sound of a boot kicking in a door and the resounding crack as the panel of the same door split and in walked the last person Rand expected to see.

“It is me. I am AO.”

“What the heck are YOU doing here?”

“Quite obviously, saving you from yourself.”

“Damn.”

“Rand! Stop! Get down off that chair! Give me that gun! Don’t do it!”

Rand was indeed standing on a chair in the center of the room, barefoot. In fact, he was shirtless and had on only some very short cutoff jeans. He held a pistol aimed at his temple.

“Rand! I order you to get down off of that chair, NOW!”

Rand slowly turned around and stared evenly, somewhat defiantly, if unsteadily, at AO. “Why the heck should I do that?” He slurred, unsteadily shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“It is not your time to go, that’s why.”

“You have your buddy Alex, and that tat faced slut, whatever her name is. I’ll bet you don’t even what me in their… in your company. They are too… too good for damned scu— damned scu… scum like me. Too good…” Rand’s voice slurred as he spoke.

“Rand, knock it off. Remember, we have a future. You have a future.” “Damnit, there ain’t no future for someone like me.”
“Yes, Rand. Yes, there is.”

“No… no there ain’t.” Rand fingered the trigger of the pistol still poised in his hand. “I’mma gonna do it. Relieve you and your goody two shoes friends and you to whate’ve’ dreams of glorah you thin’ you got goin’ fer yuh…”

“Rand! Have you gone and drugged yourself, too?”

“You… you really wanna see me go, donja…?”

Rand had the pistol poised and aimed. “It ain’t gonna be pretty.” He slurred. “Maybe more blood den yer used to seeing…” Rand grinned crookedly, evilly.

Suddenly two shots reverberated in the room and Rand crumpled into a heap.

“Rand! O Rand… why did you? How could you…”

There was no sound from the crumpled broken heap of humanity on the floor.

AO placed both hands on Rand’s shoulders and took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He did it once.

Nothing happened. Twice.
Nothing.

He inhaled and exhaled slowly for the third time.
There was a heaving sound, almost a gasp. It was almost a grand mal seizure. “Come out of him, NOW.” There was no mistaking the command in AO’s voice.

There arose a slithery, snaky, almost guttural voice from somewhere inside Rand, “Why should I come out of him? He is MINE, All MINE.” It was almost as if there was another being inside of Rand, using his vocal cords and talking through Rand’s mouth.

“He WAS yours.” AO said evenly.
“He still is mine.” Slithered the voice.
“He is mine.” AO repeated, just as evenly as the first time.
“On what grounds can you lay claim to Rand?”
“On what grounds can YOU lay claim to him?”
“He gave himself to me, AO, and you know it.” Hissed the voice. And I bought him back, and you know it,” thundered AO.
“And the fool knows it?” mocked the voice.
“Not yet, but he will.”
“How? He is dead.”

AO stood to his feet, pointed to the body of Rand and thundered: “In the name of the Great King and with all the Authority that I have as His son, I command you, COME OUT OF HIM AND LEAVE HIM ALONE!!! NOW.”

There was a sudden writhing and shaking as if the phantom inside of Rand wanted to tear Rand apart as retaliation for being commanded to come out of him. AO again pointed to the body, now writhing on the floor, “do not harm him. It is unlawful for you to harm him. Come out and leave. And, NEVER return to him!”

There was a shriek in reply. But this time it came from outside of Rand. “Go!” AO thundered. “I command you! NOW!”

There was a muffled boom and then silence.

AO leaned over, touched Rand and said, “Arise, Rand. It is gone. You are free. That spirit will not torment you anymore.”

“But… but… how… why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you bring me back?”
“I wanted to. There is more for you to do here.”

“But my life has been so… so… meaningless.”

“Up till now, yes, it has been, Rand. But that ends now.”

“What do you mean?’

“Your life has always had purpose, Rand. You just did not know it.”

“I don’t know what the purpose of it is, AO.”

“No. You don’t. But you are about to start finding out. In fact, you could say that you had your first lesson on what value your life has.”

‘What do you mean?”

“I will tell you later, you need to recuperate. Enough trauma for one day.”

“But… but… how can I ever—”

“You can thank me later, Rand.”

“Thank you later?”

“It will all make sense, later, Rand. I will explain everything when you need to know.”

“But it is so hard to accept. Or grasp. Everything bas piled on me so suddenly in the last couple of days.”

“I know.”

“What do you mean, you know?”

“I don’t even expect you to believe me now; I do not even expect you to thank me now for what you have been put through.”

“It has been hellish.”

“Yes, and for you, more than the others.”

“I can see nothing good coming from all of this. I almost wish you had not brought me back to life.” Rand almost felt bad for saying it, but it was the truth.

“I know. But you will thank me later.”
“I will, AO?”
“Yes. Now rest.”
AO strode to the door, opened it and stepped out and closed the door behind him. Rand fell into a deep, dream filled sleep.

To know why that happened, we need to take the time and tell a story that is actually a combination of stories. It is a story of how several people who had no “earthly reason” for their paths to cross, found their paths crossing. Even in spite of everything they could do to prevent their paths from crossing.

It is also the story of who brought them together and how he did it.

This is the story of the intersecting of three strangers who had every reason to be enemies and no reason to be friends, and no interest in acting like a family. There names are: Alex, Shana, and Rand.

And the man, if he actually was a man, who called himself, and told them to call him, AO.

“An Author and his Story.” Coming soon!

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December update… with pictures

It has been too long since I posted ANYTHING on this website.

Over Black Friday, I was able to “re buy” the domain name for Finding My Voice Publishing and Services. This means that, if you enter http://www.findingmyvoice.us you will still come to the same wordpress site we all know and are accustomed to.

On Sunday, December 8, (tomorrow as I write this), I have the first actual event of any sort in about five years at a place called Paradise Club in Cuyahoga Falls, OH. It is a recovery center that is  a “Social club for people in recovery. Fun, food, fellowship and meetings.”

A local artist friend of mine, who has been through recovery was kind enough to invite me to this (I expect it to be an) amazing event. It will be a long Sunday morning.

I will have a number of copies of these beauties with me, available to purchase.

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I was finally able to figure out how to export a PDF into a JPEG. Actually, the real story is that this used to be Toshiba/ Windows user finally switched to a MacBook about a year ago and discovered that a handy export feature exists that makes this so much easier.

Anyhow, below is a list of what i generally offer for purchase.

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In 2013, I wrote a little book called Adoption: A Journey of Discovering God’s Grace. In the course of a number of years, I bought back the rights from the publisher (said publisher has since gone out of business.) I therefore have begun offering copies of the book as shown below.

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I will have a handful of prints on hand. I may have my colored pencils along and we will see what happens.

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These will be the main things that are displayed

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And with that, this pictoral tour of what is going on here is concluded.

 

 

 

 

 

Meet Josh

 

 

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Josh Bechtel, founder and President of FMV Publishing and Services, also serves as Editor in Chief and President of Lighthouse Publications, LLC. FMV exists to publish and help others voice their visions, dreams and stories through poetry, art, and other creative writing, including fiction and non-fiction.

Josh was born in Oregon in 1977 and adopted at age 10. He grew up in Estacada, Oregon. He worked at a children’s home in Virginia as well as at a Men’s rehab in Indiana. Josh currently lives in Barberton, Ohio.

 

Josh’s first self-published work was a memoir detailing his experiences as a foster and adopted child. This memoir, published in 2012 but currently discontinued, also details his spiritual journey. The title, Finding My Voice, A Journey into Faith, was the inspiration for the business name FMV.

Josh self-published a compilation of spiritual poetry, titled Plain Old Vanilla You, several years ago. He is currently compiling a collection of short inspirational essays like the one on this page.

Josh has a Certificate in Freelance Writing from Harcourt Learning Direct (1996). His work has appeared in religious and secular publications, including a Horticultural Journal. He served for several years on the editorial team of a prison ministry magazine. He is an experienced editor and ghostwriter.

Exploring the thought behind AO (part one, probably)

It is not very clear where, or even when it all began. No one remembered when it began, and even fewer were able to recall if there was even an “it” to remember beginning.

There was only one person who remembered it all, and no one knew who or where he was. At least, it was assumed it was a he. No one could imagine such a person being a her.

To be fair, no one could imagine such a person existing. Getting over that hurdle, few could get over the idea of such a person even existing, it was not possible to imagine this being having a personality. Having gotten that far, it was a stretch, but possibly a plausible one, that this person would have a gender. Or multiple genders.

Having gotten that far, it might be a small leap to believe that this person was able to pass between “realities”.

Science says, in part at least, that it is possible, theoretically, to pass between “realms of reality”. Science also hints at the possibility that puncturing a hole between realities, (“creating a portal”; discovering a rift”, among other expressions) would cause a flash or explosion of some sort, causing a disturbance in “our” reality and it is theoretically unknown but possible to guess what the “reality explorer” would appear like in the “other” reality.

It is plausible to guess that this explorer would appear to be a flat image in the other reality, if he was even visible to anyone in the “parallel reality”.

If it is true that all “parallel realities” relate to each other like pages in a book, it is then possible that they are all bound or sheathed together, also much like a book. And it is further possible that these alternate realities are presided over, or at least guarded by beings or watchers or “gods” that are literally outside and above “our realities” but are also able to enter into the “books” and move in and out and among the pages of the book’s pages of parallel realities.

If it is true that there are beings outside of “our” collection of parallel realities, it follows, cautiously, that there are other “books” of other, and by definition, different “books of realities.

It is generally surmised that if a “parallel reality explorer” would successfully pass between realities, he would appear flat or almost invisible to anyone who exists in the other reality. This is probably not necessarily true, although I personally do not have enough knowledge or information of any actual experiments or experience of anyone who has actually experienced this in any form.

This might extend to time travel as well, meaning traveling “back in time” and “into the future”. It is at least hypothetically possible to travel “back in time” and “into the future” and “arrive” back at a “specific time and place” back in “our own time and place and reality after having gone through a portal or rift or being literally taken out of our own reality into another reality.

This is what likely happens during dreams when someone is asleep. It is possible that a dream is an actual “out of the body experience” that whatever the “soul” or “spirit” of a person experiences when the body is asleep and the soul “visits” other “pages” of reality.

In dreams or out of body experiences, it is plausible that the “soul or spirit” of a person is able to escape the confines of the “book” and since time is probably relative to the confines of the reality of the “page”, a four hour “sleep” in our reality can be “enough time” for multiple dreams and out of body experiences that are perceived by the mind as extremely vivid dreams, outside of the sleepers “realm of reality”.

All of this is not to say that AO is a story of a “reality explorer’. It is not even the story of a time traveler. Because being a time traveler is an admission that the time traveler is bound by and beholden to the “pages” of some reality in the “book” of time and space.

This means that if AO is not bound by space and time, and if he is beyond space and time, it follows that he is outside of the events of space and time.

He might also be the creator of it.

This raises an intriguing question that might have some infuriating implications. Would the creator of a time/space reality have any reason to want to interact with whatever or whoever is in the confines of the time/space reality construct?

In other words, would the creator of the time/space construct also be the creator of the inhabitants of the reality construct or would the inhabitants have “created” themselves? Also, would the creator of this space/time construct use his own DNA to create the inhabitants of this construct?

Would the inhabitants of this space time construct know who, in effect, made them, if they were not told? And, even if it were possible to tell them who created them, would the inhabitants of this space/time construct have the capability to believe it in the event that they were told?

And what would happen if the creator of the space/time construct literally were able to and actually entered into the confines of the space/time construct he himself had designed and created? How would he appear to the inhabitants of the space/time construct? Would he appear like the rest of the inhabitants of the space/time construct? Would he even be visible to them? Would his “sudden” appearance in the construct occur without a disturbance in the continuum of the space/time construct?

Also, would the place where he entered the space/time construct remain “open”? Or would there be the effect of a rip, or rift, or tear in the space/ time construct?

Further, would the inhabitants of the construct be capable of knowing if the rift or portal existed? If they were told the rift or portal literally existed, would they be capable of believing it existed or would they consider themselves to be insane and, frankly “out of their mind”?

Further, if the creator of this space/time construct were able to interact with the inhabitants of the construct, is it plausible to assume he is the only one who is capable with the inhabitants of the construct? If the answer is yes, is it also plausible that only people with good intent would interact with the inhabitants of the construct?

In other words, how likely is it that all of the acquaintances of the creator of the space/time construct would be pleased and thrilled and be fully in support of the success of the space/time construct, whatever the creator’s purposes and intentions for it were. We will assume for the moment that his intentions are good.

Is it plausible that any of his peers would be envious of his accomplishment? Is it possible that some would accuse him of having evil intent? Is it possible that there are those who would jump at the chance to hijack the endeavor and turn the whole thing into a disaster?

The answer might be obvious. But let’s keep going.

Is it plausible to believe that the creator of this particular space/time construct is the first such creator of such constructs; or even the brightest and best such creator of such constructs? Is it possible that he would believe he was the first, best and only creator of such constructs?

Is it possible that it would be conceivable, at least to him, that he is the first, best and only creator of such constructs? Is it further possible that this creator would learn as he goes how to interact with the inhabitants of the space/time construct, even if he created it? Is it possible that he would make mistakes in the course of learning how to interact with his creation, and is it also possible that his creation would be ignorant of his mistakes? Is it also possible that his creation would not know how to tell the difference between what he, their creator did, and what their creator should have done?

 

 

How I Got Here (Part 5… apparently)

It has apparently been forever since I posted anything of any nature on this blog. There are a number of reasons and a few excuses for that. None of which I will bother going into.

But I will take the time to tell a little story. One that I will call, “I make no claims”, and it may explain why I say that.

A few years ago I was part of a series of prophetic training classes. One evening, there was a planned worship and ministry evening planned at the church where the classes were being held. Those of us in the series of classes were expected to participate as part of two person ministry teams.

This was the first time I had ever been “on the ministry side” of something like that. In spite of being admonished to “trust God and remember it is Holy Spirit, not you,” I was nervous. Scared, actually.

The evening came and progressed and soon it was ministry time.

Among those in the line that came up for ministry was a tough looking gentleman with long hair who obviously had been “through it”, and it showed. We were supposed to give whoever came up “a word”. So after the guy I was teamed with (who was a School of Supernatural Ministry graduate and alumni and leader) gave his “word for the man”, it was my turn.

So I gave him “a word” that included something about him wandering away from God and being out ‘in sin’ for some time and him being on his way back and that God was going to use his experiences while being “astray” in the “season of ministry” that was ahead of him.

He received the word, or at least said he did.

About half a year or so went by. One day I saw something online, probably Facebook or something, about a pastor in a church in a nearby town. Of course there was a picture of this pastor and behold, it was the same man.

Or so I thought. (Never mind, for the moment that I found out about a year and a half later, it wasn’t him at all. Never mind for the moment that I found out that the pastor had never been to this particular church. Never mind for the moment that in all probability the “word” was probably pin point accurate. )

I mentally reviewed what I vaguely remembered of the “word” I gave to the man in the ministry line, and cringed. I had told a PASTOR that he has wandered from God, and that he had gone out into sin and that he was on his  way back… and it wasn’t that way at all.

What I said to him was not true at all. I was convinced I had “blown it” beyond big time.

I slowly began to shut down any belief in the idea that “I can hear from God”. I had been told I was “overbearing” before. I had been told that I had spiritually abused someone in my attempts to walk out this supposed “hearing from God”before. I had been told that I came across as if I thought I was a spiritual giant before.

That did it. I was done claiming that I could “hear from God”.

(to be continued)

 

 

 

 

 

How I Got Here (part 4)

Finally…after several hours of unendurable spiritual warfare, I was given the grace to utter the words. “Okay, God, I forgive my biological Mom.”

When I said those words, I felt like I had become a new person. I felt as if I had finally tasted what it was like to be born again. I felt like I had let go of everything that defined

my life up to that point. I had “let go of the rope” and had every sensation of free falling.

The next day was Thanksgiving.

Previous to this particular evening in 2000, I had prayed the prayer, prayers, actually. I had taken the class and submitted to the rite of Mennonite baptism.

And was enormously conflicted, inwardly tortured and miserable. And up to that evening, in fact, up to that very moment when I told God I would forgive my biological mom, I barely knew why. I had a vague sense of what was supposed to happen once you “went forward” and “prayed the prayer” and “confessed all the sins you knew and could think of.

I had been taught to read the Bible from a fairly early age. I knew that nothing that the Bible writers claimed would happen when you “were born again” had happened to me.

You were at least supposed to have something called “assurance of salvation”. I spent the first night of being “born again”, trying to convince myself that something actually had happened.

Nothing worked. Nothing really seemed for real. But I was told it was real. So I went along with it.

Nothing prepared me to come to the conclusion that I was not born again before that point. It was not until three, maybe five years later that the realization would dawn on me.

About six weeks later, I boarded an airplane in Portland, Oregon and set my face toward Richmond, VA, and whatever awaited me at the children’s home where I was (somewhat surprisingly) accepted to begin a term of voluntary service.

This realization began the slow, and at first (probably undetected) deterioration of my adherence to the Mennonite faith.

The realization that I was not born again when I “joined church” first, probably, began eating away at me in my subconscious.  There was a hunger, that was undefined and unsettlingly vague at first. It provoked me to question just about everything that I had accepted as true up to that point.

How could I “just leave” the Mennonites, when, as far as I was able to tell, I owed almost everything to? I was adopted by Mennonites. I had been raised, trauma, and emotional and religious abuse that came along with being a foster kid in the Plain circles, by Mennonites. Even if the “loaf” of bread I had been given had some “rocks” in it, it was still a “loaf. And even if it was a “half a loaf”, even with “rocks” in it, it was still a half a loaf. And a half a loaf is  better than none.

Among the things I was compelled to question and “check my foundations”, was a tricky little word, “Baptism”. And right along with that “Holy Spirit” and “how many baptisms are there” and, oh, that pesky little thing called “speaking in tongues”.

I read, studied, prayed and sought this, more or less on my own.

All this was going on while I was a more or less good Mennonite and serving at, first, at the children’s home in Virginia, and later at a men’s rehab in southern Indiana. And  some of it was even happening after I was no longer “anything” but a somewhat crazy, bewildered, a little bitter and seeking, and wildly hungry “ex-Mennonite”.

A crazy ex-Mennonite who was even treated to his own encounter with God that included being “baptized in the Spirit” in the least likely place imaginable.  On the living room floor in the house of a friend who barely believed in that sort of thing.

But to me, I had waited a long time for it.

And “it” was only the beginning. Yet it wasn’t. Yet it was.

To be continued…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2017: the year of understanding

It began when a friend from church offered some unique handmade leather bound journals for sale. Of course, I wanted one, so I ordered one. I have to buy myself at least one Christmas present.

Part of the journal’s decoration is a stamped metal tag. I had the opportunity of choosing a word to have stamped on it.

“Ask Holy Spirit, He will tell you.”

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The words are “Unlock Mysteries”.  I am very much a words guy. I also love one liners, and as soon as I saw those words, I knew Holy Spirit had given my friend the right words.

I was reasonably sure I knew what “unlocking mysteries” might be all about.

I have been mulling over those two words.

This evening, I had a few moments to “pause and reflect.” So, I turned on some instrumental worship music and asked Papa “What is your word or phrase for me, for 2017?”

Instantly: “Underneath are the everlasting arms.”

Ok, cool. But somewhat underwhelming. (Yes, you saw what I did there.) I looked it up, Deuteronomy 33:26 “There is no one like God, O Jeshurun (a sort of pet name that God used for Israel that basically means, “upright one”), who rides through the sky to help you, on clouds of majesty. The everlasting God is a refuge and underneath are his eternal arms…”

Ok… Papa obviously knows how my mind works. I like words and have a strangely developed alertness to odd patterns.

Unlock. Underneath. Hmmmm.

I allowed my mind to go into “list mode”. What are some things that are either already unlocked and ready to enter into, or things that I get to “unlock” in 2017?

Weird, but that is how it came out in my mind.

Unhindered access

Unhindered resources

Unhindered entrance

Untapped storehouses

Unrealized potential

Unrestrained worship

Undivided attention

Undefeated Warrior

Unstoppable Power

Wow. ok. That list came out rather quick.

My mind grasps things of this sort if they are in groups of three, loosely arranged.

There were only two, that I could tell, so far.

“Unlock mysteries”

“Underneath are the everlasting arms”

Papa, what is the third one? I am not sure I understand what you are saying.

Suddenly it hit me.

Understanding! That was the missing word, and it suddenly slipped into place and made the rest make sense.

So what does understanding have to do with this?

“You will find favor and good understanding…” I knew that was in Proverbs, somewhere.

Loosely stated, “favor” is momentum. And understanding is “standing with something solid under you.”

I would like to think there is some “momentum” in my life, that is blessed by Papa. It would be a good thing to have something solid underneath me as I “unlock the mysteries” that are waiting to be realized and revealed in the new year.

Understanding, whatever else 2017 is the year of, I pray it is a year of understanding.

Happy New Year!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

How I Got Here (part 3)

For this segment, I am going to post most of a chapter from my memoir, which was published in 2012. The memoir is titled Finding My Voice: A Journey into Faith.

A bit of background. This was in the fall of 2000. I was getting ready to go into Voluntary service at a children’s home. Dad (my adoptive dad) had had a accident while attempting to de limb a tree in our back yard.

Dad passed away in 2008. So, what is said below is said with the utmost respect, and only because it is part of the story of “how I got here”.

But now, I quote from the chapter of my memoir:

Once in a while I house-sat for my boss and his family when they were on vacation. It was the week of Thanksgiving. Mom had been “hammering” the idea that I needed to forgive my biological Mom. I was perfectly miserable. Wednesday evening after prayer meeting our chorus practiced for several upcoming Christmas appointments the next month.

Mom and Dad went home right after prayer meeting. Dad was still in a wheelchair as a result of a tree cutting mishap, earlier that fall, in our backyard that resulted in him breaking his left wrist and left ankle. Seeing Dad laid up in an easy chair and having to get

around in a wheelchair did not help my outlook on life at all. We had to heft his wheelchair up the church stairs every Sunday morning and evening. I knew too much about what

was going on the Saturday that Dad fell from the tree and… well…changed things forever.

I sensed that I was somehow blamed for the events that led up to the accident. Such as, the way Dad tied off the branch he attempted to cut. I instinctively wondered about what he was doing but also knew he would ignore any objections I would have raised.

I was the lone witness to what happened in those minutes.

I was actually in the middle of it all…standing on the bottom rung of the ladder. The butt end of the branch swung around and struck me in the chest before it swung up and landed with a crash on the house roof. I saw the branch coming toward me in slow motion, and felt myself flung backward to the ground by the force. I also felt “something” snap. This, at the exact moment that Dad was flung to the ground, less than ten feet away. The running chainsaw, with its 36 inch bar, still running, landed between us. But a somewhat irrational instinct bade me get to my feet and…I am not sure what I thought I would do

next. That was when I saw Dad on the ground. About that instant, Mom and my younger brother came running.

Most of the rest of that day passed in a blur of trying to clean up the branch mess and attempting to ignore the growing pain in my back and neck.

All this was whirling in my mind that Wednesday evening before Thanksgiving. I had a hard time seeing anything to be thankful for.

And I was getting ready to leave for FMH in January. We got through practice and my brother gave me a lift to the nursery….which was just up the road from home.

We pulled in and parked by the gate. My brother turned off the ignition and we sat there in the dark. We talked for a long time about a lot of things. I felt as if I was standing in front of a stone wall. God stood right there as well, saying “It’s up to you, buddy. If you refuse

to forgive your Mom, your walk with Me is over.”

What are you supposed to do when God says that to you?

What can you do….but give in?

Finally…after several hours of unendurable spiritual warfare, I was given the grace to utter the words. “Okay, God, I forgive my biological Mom.”

When I said those words, I felt like I had become a new person. I felt as if I had finally tasted what it was like to be born again. I felt like I had let go of everything that defined

my life up to that point. I had “let go of the rope” and had every sensation of free falling.

The next day was Thanksgiving.

 

“How I got here” (Part 2)

The essence of this post can be summarized in one sentence: I am not “mad, angry or bitter” at the Mennonites.

Of course, that raises the question, why did I leave?

I said I am not mad, angry or bitter at the Mennonites. And that is true. I am not going to claim that it has always been true. Claiming that would be a lie.

I HAVE been mad, angry, bitter, spiteful. I have hated myself. I have despised the fact that I HAVE hated the fact that I grew up in foster care and was adopted. I HAVE hated the fact that I am different from almost every one I know. I have hated myself and have felt like everyone else has hated me.

I wrote in detail about my spiritual journey in my memoir, entitled Finding My Voice. I am not going to go into a lot of detail here.

I left the Mennonites because I came to the realization that when I joined church, I was not born again.

I probably need to stop right here and address something. I am NOT telling the story of every young person who has joined, been disillusioned and left the Mennonite church. I am telling my own story. I am absolutely not able to tell someone else’s story.

I also am NOT saying that there at no born again Mennonites. The facts scream other wise. I know there are born again Mennonites, and Amish, and Catholics, and Charismatics and non- denominationals.

See what I did there? Good.

My “faith journey” has been complicated and might actually appear to be non existent at best and chaotic at worst to some one looking on.

It consciously began at age twelve or so, when I let my by then adoptive parents know that I wanted to “become a Christian”. Because I was not able to satisfactorily say what I wanted to become a “Christian” for, or why, it was determined by my parents that I did not know what I was doing and the result was that I was told to wait.

And I did wait, until I was about 19.

I should explain that I was not good at expressing what I was feeling or wanted and for most of my life I was passed off as either mentally retarded, stupid or some other  form of “slow”.

The effect of being told to wait was that I felt like I was essentially turned away from Jesus. So began my extremely chaotic and turbulent teen age years.

I carried, suppressed and hid and exploded and blamed a lot during those years. Blamed myself, a lot, mostly because I thought everyone else was blaming me. Blamed my birth and foster and adopted parents because, well, for no reason.

Then came “one night” during the revivals meetings when I was 19. There were far too many considerations that held me back from “going forward” among them the memory of “the other time” at age 12 or so and knowing that “child evangelism” was frowned upon at our house.

The message was over. So was the invitation song. So was the dismissal prayer.

In the probably awkwardest possible prayer and “being led to Christ” that that little white church ever saw, I went forward and was led in a prayer and declared to be born again.

The only thing was, I felt nothing. Indeed, after we got back home, and after I was in bed that night, I spent half the night trying to convince myself that “it had happened”.

When I say I “felt nothing”, I mean exactly that. Nothing changed. If anything, life got worse. Of course, this was interpreted as “taking strides”. But there was still something that was missing. I felt dead and I did not even know why.

You could literally say I was blind to what “It” actually was.

To be continued…