Revival with a Twist and a Punch

My Father had many aspects to him and with these next few memories I will share more of who he was and who I am.

I have to hand it to my parents, as abusive as they could be, neither one of them hit us often.  But the few times either one did it was awful!

When I was about six or seven years old a friend of my Mothers invited me to go to church.  They were having a revival.  I was very excited because my Nanny went to church all the time and my Mom said yes, I could go!

It was very interesting, people were clapping and yelling amen.  I had no idea why, but they all seemed so excited.  Then towards the end of the night people started crying so I cried too.  I felt awful that everyone was so sad, but still I had no idea why.  Then a woman walked over to me and asked me if I knew Jesus.  I replied “No, I had never met him.”  She laughed and asked me if I would like to. I shrugged.  She told me all about how Jesus was my savior and that in order for me to go to heaven I would have to accept him to be my friend, Lord and Savior.  I said OK.  Then she asked me what church I was a member of.  And that is where my nightmare began.  I told her we did not go to church because my Dad did not believe in God.  I could see her expression change.  She was horrified.  Finally, my Moms friend walked over and said it was time to go home.  She spoke with the woman for a few minutes and then we left.

The very next night several people from that church showed up at our house.  I can remember sitting at the kitchen table as my Dad yelled and screamed.  I had never seen him angry before and I was so afraid.  I can not remember one word he said until they left.

Then he looked at me and said “Never again will this happen!”  He walked over to me and pulled me up by my hair.  I hardly had any hair since it was so fine and after he was finished I had even less.  He beat me until I passed out.

I never mentioned going to church or God again to him.  And I most certainly never told anyone he did not believe in God.

For years I hated those people.  Church people.  Until I met Sherry and Phil, who are one of my childhood friend’s parents.  Phil is a pastor of a Pentecostal church.  They are wonderful people.  Who helped parent me throughout the years. I am thankful for their influence on my life.

I still do not believe in God.  But I do believe in people.  For a while, when I was little, I had stopped believing in both.

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