I Didn’t Want to Be a Christian

My Journey to Baptism

I didn’t want to be a Christian. My sister died after a difficult life that included cancer, alcoholism, and drug addictions. She was 25 when she died; I was 16. Our family had been mystified about what kicked off her dependency issues; after her death, we learned that she was sexually abused by a parish priest. The same priest who, two years later, would be on trial for sex abuses against two others, now adults. (Regrettably, this priest escaped justice despite best attempts.)

By the end of my disenchantment, I was “spiritual but not religious.”

My antipathy to Christians extended beyond simply what happened with my sister. I was deep in the worldly culture, and the Christians I saw on tv — namely politicians and televangelists — didn’t seem like the compassionate, caring, rule-breaking Christ I was taught in my Catholic elementary school. Roman Catholicism, too, didn’t always match up against the Jesus I thought we worshiped, and it certainly didn’t mesh with my teenaged cultural values.

By the end of my disenchantment, I was “spiritual but not religious,” a growing statistic in my generation. I believed in God; I believed that He loved me; I believed all religions pointed to the same God but took different paths to find Him; I believed in His omnipresence and omnipotence. I…