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When I was eight years old, my Vacation Bible School teacher talked about "giving your life to Jesus": as literal-minded as I was, the idea that Jesus wanted me to commit suicide for him scared the pants off me!
Once when I was probably about 3 or 4, I was at daycare where my older sister and her friend happened to mention God. I asked who God was and they told me all about a big man in the sky who created everything. For some reason, I thought of one of the Bananas in Pajamas wearing an angel costume in the sky with a glittery wand- I have no idea why! It took me years to stop picturing God as B1!!
When I was younger, I always used to believe that Monks would marry Nuns, and that NO ONE ELSE could do so. This also supplied me with a reason as to why they dressed so funny. Little did I know that to marry was a big no-no for these religious people.
When I fiirst heard about Pontious Pilate. I thought his last name was spelled "pilot". This was also compounded by the fact that this was at a time when I had not yet learned about the Wright Brothers in school and how the airplane was not invented until around the 1920's.
This made me think that Pontious was some guy that flew an airplane.
When I was really little my mother told me that Jesus was in everything. Of course, I interpreted that as meaning that he made up the mass of all things, such as the inside of the walls, and that's how he knew everything a person was doing and whether they were sinning. When I was about 7 or 8, I cut my arm on a rock, and a layer of my skin was coming off. I was really scared because I was unaware that people had "layers" of skin, and I convinced myself that I had found Jesus. I tried to peel of the rest of my skin so I could meet Him, and apologize for all my sins and that he had to live inside of me, but it was too painful and I gave up. Then I started to cry because I was worried Jesus would be mad at me because I couldn't free him from my skin.
I used to believe that the Bible was written by Moses, with God whispering everything in his ear, in English.
I was raised in a non-religious household, so my ideas about got and religion were pretty sketchy. I knew that OTHER people knew this God guy, and that they talked to him and everything because I had seen people praying and preaching and all. Until I was about 8 I believed that God existed, but he just didn't know about me. Like I was flying under his radar or something. I mean, he hadn't been talking to me like he talked to other people! Every now and then I'd consider sitting down and introducing myself to God, just so he'd know I was there. But then I'd get nervous that he would be mad at me for not introducing myself earlier. So I just kept putting it off...
I thought that the star that Mary and Joseph followed was called Yonder, as in 'following Yonder star."
I thought that the animals went in two by two for company. I thought Noah was concerned about them getting lonely so invited two of each kind along. It was only recently at the age of 25 that someone pointed out to me the real reason.
No joke- I used to think the religious hierarchy went (low to high) God, then Santa Claus, then this oddly shaped piece of black plastic that I found.
We used to drive past a cake shop that had a sign saying "God" and in smaller letters, "Have an affair with a caterer". It really puzzled me that God would say adultery was wrong and then make an exception for caterers, but I reasoned that He must really like cakes.
Much later, I realised the "God" was the street number of the shop: "600".
I used to believe that three sheep dogs named Shirley, Gooodness, and Mercy would "follow me all the days of my life" while I dwelled "in the house of the Lord, forever." After all, "The Lord is my shepherd..."
When I was about 9 My Uncle told me "God is just." I would get upset, asking him to finish his sentence "Just what?!" Since I only knew on definition of 'just'.
He always laughed at my frustration.
When I was a kid I used to believe that Jesus had no penis (!) since someone of that kind of divinity couldn't be disgraced with having such a 'dirty' part of body. Then, when on religion lession I heard about circumcision of Jesus (I already knew what that meant) I simply stood up and exclaimed: "What do you mean, it couldn't be done on him, how can you even think about Jesus having... that?" to the laughter of whole class, man what an idiot I was!
When I was about 5 or 6 and heard about the Holy Spirit, I was really freaked out; maybe I associated "spirit" with ghosts or something. Around the same time, my grandparents had these old G.I. Joes and Star Trek guys, and there was one with black suction cups on his hands. So when I was little, I imagined the Holy Spirit as a fully poseable plastic guy with black suction cups for hands.
I used to have an irrational fear of devils and Hell and death. I was terrified of the color red, thinking it would open some portal into Hell. (For example, I had a red nightstand in my room, and I couldn't look at it at night, thinking it would summon the devil.) When we moved to Florida, the song "Devil Went Down to Georgia" was popular, and I was sure he'd come get me. I prayed several times a night and wouldn't move my lips for fear the devil was watching and would read my lips and harm the people I was asking God to bless. My Dad then told me that the devil can look like anyone -- he can take on the shape of anyone or anything you know. The only way to tell that it's the devil is that one part of his body would be an animal's (i.e., he'd look exactly like my dad, but have one hoof). Until I was 12 or so, I scrutinized everyone I saw -- looking for animal parts -- fearful they were the devil in disguise, coming to kill me. I was a nervous child.
I used to think that the devil lived in the sewers. Whenever there was steam coming out of the sewers, I thought that meant he was cooking up an evil plan.
When I was much younger, my vision of Allah, or God, was like the scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz. I still can't help but imagine that when I die, I'm going to be in the cornfield of the sky.
After many years as a kid I realized the "Creature" next door was really the preacher next door.
...sever disappointment ensued.
When my goldfish died we flushed it down the toilet and my mum said that it had gone to heaven. So i said God lives in heaven and she said yes. So from then on i believed that God lived down the LOO!
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