Barneyisfat

The neighbor boy and I used to compete against each other. It was always a mental and conversational game. Alex would say something and then I would be expected to top that. He could usually top whatever I said - he was better at lying than I was.

One day we discussed our families' faith. We discussed primarily from the angle of how involved in church our parents were. Our mothers were both organists. Mine counted the offering and his led Bible Studies. My father worked in the sound booth. His father was a lay speaker. It came to a truce - neither won, ever.

Looking now through eyes that no longer enshroud truth with idealistic fantasies I understand how silly our arguments were. I don't think of my parents as super heroes any more. I realize how little faith my father had. He stopped working in the sound booth when they built a new, professional sound center. His hypocrisy was first shown to me when he refused to work in the new setting. He wasn't opposed to progress - just who thought of the idea for the progress.

My father still walks out of church when confronted with a person he doesn't like inside. My father still sadly compares his sin to others' with the sole hope of finding someone worse than himself. It is only in this action that he can justify his own sinfulness.

I don't understand how my father has lived with my mother for 25 years without realizing that authentic faith in Christ is what he needs to be happy. My mother is the greatest disciple of Christ I have ever met. She said crappy when I was nine; her only identifiable sin. Debbie lives out her faith in a way that I have never seen anyone else do. Every morning she reads her Bible and then practices the organ and has worship time with God. She prays diligently for everyone she encounters and loves lavishly. And, somehow that faith has never transferred to my father. He is quite content in his sin and religous duties. It's a sad fact, but one worth stating. Going to church and acting holier-than-thou doesn't get you anywhere. Loving Christ wholeheartedly gets you places - like heaven.

I have a hard time forgiving my father for the bad example he set for my sister and I. To the point that I can talk about him in the past tense. When we were kids my sister and I had to sit by ourselves because dad didn't go to church. Now when we are home he makes a big show about going to church - yelling at us for not showing up on time, angrily snorting every time my sister and I whisper to each other, and checking up on Becka's boyfriend to make sure Mike isn't asleep. It makes me hate going to church at home. I go to support mom. I want her to know that I support her, I want my sister and her boyfriend to see people of honest faith worshipping God, and I want to set an example of a Godly man going to church for all the kids there who have fathers who don't go to church.