Something was wrong, but what?
Son of a preacher man ~
Not a single day goes by where I judge and hate myself for being a sinner. Where does this sin come from? It was taught to me when I was a child. So, who taught me this sin? well it was directly taught to me by my parents, but they couldn't have done it without the support of the community (donations), government (tax breaks and grants), and other charitable funds (grants). So who taught me this sin? Every one around me. Whats worse these same people (every single one of us) then force me through threat of abuse, rape, violence, and even death (prison) to finically support (taxes) these child abusers. We are horrible people.
I am the son of a preacher man, and I can't teach you anything. Education, whats that? Going to two different fundamentalist Christian schools in different cities before thirteen. The first school (looking back it was more like a christian commune) I have only few memories of, mostly of my sin. One that sticks out was when I was hanging under the monkey bars and another Christian kid was on top, he pulled my fingers of the bars one by one until I feel. I feel in such a way that I shattered my elbow, six weeks in a cast, six months in a claw, worst case I would not be able to use my arm again... Apart from being a bit deformed my arm is fine, I do not blame the kid (he would not have known what would happen), what stands out in my memory is that no one believed me when I told them what he had done, not one teacher, not even my parents.
The second school wasn't much better, in fact it was worse. I was the only boy my age (whats important about social development?). We were used to put on plays and talks in public places, in order to spread the religion. Religion was more than what where was taught in their text books, it is taught as the very life force running through our veins, that without it you are scum. I remember a few things from there….. Teacher once asked us to draw a tree. I have always been pretty artistic without really being exceptional, but as it was I could draw a good tree for my age. Some of the other students saw my drawing and asked me to help with theirs. Being taught to give without question, and help my few man, the charity of Jesus, I helped them with there drawings. I remember I help with the teachings of Jesus in mind and with absolute innocence of heart. We handed our drawings in to be marked… What would Jesus do? I know what the teacher did. He singled out my drawing and the drawings of the students I had help with, he failed us all. On top of that (Jesus was still pissed at me for helping with the drawings I guess) he then held my picture up and started mocking it, he pointed to a feature I had drawn on the tree (at the time I couldn't name it, but I knew I had seen it on the tree I was drawing) "whats that, I've never seen one of those on a tree", it felt like I had insulted the guy in some way, he was angry and I didn't know why, I felt to cause this much hate I must have done something really bad, maybe I had drawn a hallucination I had seen, and he was trying to correct me, what have I done to this man of God….. I knew it was my fault. I know you want to know what I was drawing, a knot, caused by a branch being taken off and the bark growing over the cut. I feel sorry for this man and for all our children, for this man was able to pass through teachers college, and became approved the Ministry for Education, yet an eleven year old boy was more observant of the real world than he will ever be. Plus I kind of got him back later that year I felt really sick and asked to go to the bathroom, he didn't believe me, I held it in for as long as I could but just couldn't hold back any more…. I power chucked all over the carpet and main door as I was trying to rush myself out of class… He had to clean it up.
It was about this time that I started to feel like something was wrong. What was wrong? It must be sin, it must be me, everyone else is alright… Not knowing what was wrong, thinking I was wrong, and not knowing who to trust, even though I though I was wrong (I am sin) I felt some how that the cause was the grown ups, but again no one else was feeling like this, it's probably just my sin, I better keep quite, can't let the grown ups know I am sin. Twelve years old, some things wrong, oh no my home works not done, why didn't I do my home work, I always do, I am such a sinner. Oh no the teacher's coming, quick you don't want to get into trouble, make something up. "My home work is in my bag, I will have to go to the changing room to get it". In the changing room, what do I do, what do I do. i check my bag hopping God had done me a solid, dam!… If only I wasn't such a sinner, maybe He would have helped me out, I am going to be in so much trouble, I am such a sinner… Run…… Don't look back, keep running. Made it across the city, I find myself in a park down the road from home. I can't go home, what do I do… Wait… I know, i'll go home once its dark and my brothers and sister are asleep, and least then they won't have to see my punishment, who knows maybe they will have calmed down by then and they will let me off, miracles are supposed to happen, "… there you are! Come with me." crap, mum… "Why did you do it" he shouted as I cowered on the corner of my bed. I don't say a thing, from my past experience I had learnt that if I tell my sin the punishment is much worse….. Slap goes the leather across my naked lower back. Don't ever tell what you have done, they can't be trusted, you don't know why, but if you tell them they will use it to punish you more… Slap, Slap, Slap, don't say a word, you are on your own… Slap, Slap.
You have done it, you made it to thirteen. You have never meet anyone who wasn't a Christian, you know the world is full evil, there is no reality beyond the Bible, it alone is truth. So thirteen, we shall now take you from your school of Christian thirty and dump you in a secular school of 1200 for high school… with such a great head start in life (I know the bible, what more could anyone need to know) I was bound to do well on my highway to hell… But those are other stories.
I am the son of a preacher man, and I can't teach you anything. Education, whats that? Going to two different fundamentalist Christian schools in different cities before thirteen. The first school (looking back it was more like a christian commune) I have only few memories of, mostly of my sin. One that sticks out was when I was hanging under the monkey bars and another Christian kid was on top, he pulled my fingers of the bars one by one until I feel. I feel in such a way that I shattered my elbow, six weeks in a cast, six months in a claw, worst case I would not be able to use my arm again... Apart from being a bit deformed my arm is fine, I do not blame the kid (he would not have known what would happen), what stands out in my memory is that no one believed me when I told them what he had done, not one teacher, not even my parents.
The second school wasn't much better, in fact it was worse. I was the only boy my age (whats important about social development?). We were used to put on plays and talks in public places, in order to spread the religion. Religion was more than what where was taught in their text books, it is taught as the very life force running through our veins, that without it you are scum. I remember a few things from there….. Teacher once asked us to draw a tree. I have always been pretty artistic without really being exceptional, but as it was I could draw a good tree for my age. Some of the other students saw my drawing and asked me to help with theirs. Being taught to give without question, and help my few man, the charity of Jesus, I helped them with there drawings. I remember I help with the teachings of Jesus in mind and with absolute innocence of heart. We handed our drawings in to be marked… What would Jesus do? I know what the teacher did. He singled out my drawing and the drawings of the students I had help with, he failed us all. On top of that (Jesus was still pissed at me for helping with the drawings I guess) he then held my picture up and started mocking it, he pointed to a feature I had drawn on the tree (at the time I couldn't name it, but I knew I had seen it on the tree I was drawing) "whats that, I've never seen one of those on a tree", it felt like I had insulted the guy in some way, he was angry and I didn't know why, I felt to cause this much hate I must have done something really bad, maybe I had drawn a hallucination I had seen, and he was trying to correct me, what have I done to this man of God….. I knew it was my fault. I know you want to know what I was drawing, a knot, caused by a branch being taken off and the bark growing over the cut. I feel sorry for this man and for all our children, for this man was able to pass through teachers college, and became approved the Ministry for Education, yet an eleven year old boy was more observant of the real world than he will ever be. Plus I kind of got him back later that year I felt really sick and asked to go to the bathroom, he didn't believe me, I held it in for as long as I could but just couldn't hold back any more…. I power chucked all over the carpet and main door as I was trying to rush myself out of class… He had to clean it up.
It was about this time that I started to feel like something was wrong. What was wrong? It must be sin, it must be me, everyone else is alright… Not knowing what was wrong, thinking I was wrong, and not knowing who to trust, even though I though I was wrong (I am sin) I felt some how that the cause was the grown ups, but again no one else was feeling like this, it's probably just my sin, I better keep quite, can't let the grown ups know I am sin. Twelve years old, some things wrong, oh no my home works not done, why didn't I do my home work, I always do, I am such a sinner. Oh no the teacher's coming, quick you don't want to get into trouble, make something up. "My home work is in my bag, I will have to go to the changing room to get it". In the changing room, what do I do, what do I do. i check my bag hopping God had done me a solid, dam!… If only I wasn't such a sinner, maybe He would have helped me out, I am going to be in so much trouble, I am such a sinner… Run…… Don't look back, keep running. Made it across the city, I find myself in a park down the road from home. I can't go home, what do I do… Wait… I know, i'll go home once its dark and my brothers and sister are asleep, and least then they won't have to see my punishment, who knows maybe they will have calmed down by then and they will let me off, miracles are supposed to happen, "… there you are! Come with me." crap, mum… "Why did you do it" he shouted as I cowered on the corner of my bed. I don't say a thing, from my past experience I had learnt that if I tell my sin the punishment is much worse….. Slap goes the leather across my naked lower back. Don't ever tell what you have done, they can't be trusted, you don't know why, but if you tell them they will use it to punish you more… Slap, Slap, Slap, don't say a word, you are on your own… Slap, Slap.
You have done it, you made it to thirteen. You have never meet anyone who wasn't a Christian, you know the world is full evil, there is no reality beyond the Bible, it alone is truth. So thirteen, we shall now take you from your school of Christian thirty and dump you in a secular school of 1200 for high school… with such a great head start in life (I know the bible, what more could anyone need to know) I was bound to do well on my highway to hell… But those are other stories.
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