What were you before you reverted to Islam?
To answer this, I’d like to start with my parents and what religion they were raised with. My father’s family is self-described as Irish Catholic. This isn’t a special type of Catholicism like Greek Catholicism or Anglo-Catholicism; rather, it’s a term used to describe those who are both Roman Catholic and of Irish descent. My father probably attended mass (the Catholic term for what Protestants just call church) as a child, and, while I’m not certain, also probably attended a private Catholic school. What he did in his teens and early twenties is beyond me.
Then there’s my mother and her family. In previous posts, I’ve mentioned that her mother, my grandmother, is a devout Christian. Lutheran, to be exact. I really have no idea what role my mother had in church in her childhood up until she married my father, but it’s safe to guess she also probably attended church with her parents and sisters. Whether she stopped after a certain age, I couldn’t tell you.
I do know however that as a young girl, I found myself at church every Sunday. I believe my parents experimented with different churches, but 99% of the time we were a part of a Baptist church.
Perhaps the best term to use when it comes to religion prior to my conversion is apathetic. Even as a child.
I can remember dreading Sundays; I hated every part of it, from being dressed in uncomfortable clothes I didn’t want to wear to sitting in a stuffy old building filled with heavily-perfumed ladies and listening to the pastor drone on about some topic I was far from understanding. My mom would always give me the bulletin so I would keep myself occupied – and quiet – in doodling. Often times I would be handed off to the Sunday School workers; Sunday school was perhaps the only reason I would ever look forward to Sundays. What little kid doesn’t like playing with other kids and getting cookies and juice or milk? That’s a whole lot better than sitting with those smelly ladies!
Then there was one Sunday where one of the young workers gathered us rowdy kids together. She asked how many of us had taken Jesus Christ as our savior. A few of the older kids raised their hands, but most of the younger ones didn’t say or do anything. The worker offered to help the younger children accept Christ as a savior if they wanted to. Of course all the kids who hadn’t raised their hands followed her to a different room, me included. We prayed then, about what exactly I can’t remember, but obviously it had something to do with accepting Christ as our savior. I joined in, but not because I wanted Christ as my savior; I joined in because all my friends were doing it. I didn’t want to be left out.
Up until I was 10 and my parents divorced, my family would attend church regularly. Very rarely did a Sunday pass when we weren’t sitting in some pew. As I grew older, my apathy towards religion grew as well. I had absolutely no interest in what the pastor was saying, or what anybody said in Sunday school or Awana, a program with the mission of helping ‘churches and parents worldwide raise children and youth to know, love and serve Christ.’ All I cared about was getting the cool pins that came along with finishing a section in our workbooks. Again, it came down to sticking with my friends. And my parents made me do it. Given the choice, I probably wouldn’t have done it. I could never mirror the ‘religiousness’ of my close friend who even at a young age was a devout Christian who actually believed with all her heart in what she learned.
After my parents divorced and my mother, brother, and I moved in with a man she later married, religion basically disappeared from my life. My step-father’s history with religion is unknown to me, but his parents regularly attend church so maybe he did as a child too. However, from the divorce until we moved in with my mother’s mother, my grandma, religion never entered into the equation. We never set foot in any church, we never prayed before mealtimes, and Easter and Christmas never had any religious connotations.
All that changed when we moved to Minnesota after my mother and step-father lost their jobs. My grandmother had the great idea to force me to attend church and confirmation classes. Both places were places I didn’t want to be. Even if I had ever considered myself a Christian, I didn’t feel sitting in a church when it was the last place I wanted to be was appropriate. Every Sunday I was subjected to the torture of attempting to sit through a very boring sermon I had no interest in. Every Wednesday I was subjected to the torture of sitting in a church basement with immature kids two years younger than me, memorizing verses of the Bible which I saw no use for. It was at this time that my apatheism hit a high point. It’s completely bonkers to force someone to believe in something, especially something as important as religion!
Yet what really bothered me was my mother’s lack of action; she allowed my grandmother to force-feed me Christianity while at the same time she herself wasn’t Christian. My pleas to stop going to confirmation classes and stop attending church fell on deaf ears. Only when I was finally confirmed, after two years of torture, did she say I could have to option. And when I was given the choice, I stopped everything. Boy was it great to sleep in on Sundays, even if I did have my grandmother scolding me for making the choice I made. I didn’t care what she said or felt; I had had enough of religion in my life, at least until I came across Islam.
So, in summary, that’s a very long way of saying I was raised in a (sort of) Christian household, but that I was always apathetic towards Christianity and religion in general; I just didn’t care. I was happier living my life the way I wanted to live it, without the supposed ‘Son of God.’ Therefore, I wouldn’t necessarily say I was Christian before converting, nor would I say I was ever truly Christian. If someone had questioned me, I might have said I believed in God or at least some sort of higher power. The term I would have most affiliated myself with is apatheist.
But all that’s in the past. No longer am I an apatheist. I am a Muslim Alahmdulillah and proud to be one. Religion is an integral part of my life now, more important to me than anything else. Islam is certainly the best for all of mankind.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
No comments:
Post a Comment