characters

When I was little we lived in a little house with a big backyard. When the minister at our church told us that Jesus was always with me, I figured that if He lived in our house I'd have seen Him, so He must live in our backyard. There was one corner where we were all afraid to go (even the dog) because there was a wasp's nest, so I decided that that must be where Jesus lived, since even wasps wouldn't sting Jesus. I believed this for years.

Linda C.

When I was young I used to think that there was a big man who lived in the sky listening to my most personal thoughts and feelings, who cared deeply about my hopes and fears, and who would listen to my requests, granting only those which were good for me.

Cris Smith

When I was younger I thought that red and black were the colors of the devil. I was 'safe' from the devil as long as I kept my red and black markers and crayons seperated. My parents went to Texas Tech tho-- where their colors are red and black--and oddly enough I was never scared or worried about the devil when I was at a Tech game or wearing one of the shirts :)

Anon

I used to believe that I had the power to make God unhappy not only by what I did but what I was. In order not to bring too much attention on myself , I figured out I wouldn't bring his wrath(God was a He) on me if I was very good. Being very good would keep him in a good mood.

Pauline Dolan

I used to believe that rain meant God was crying, and thunder was when God was bowling.

Marco

I used to think that thunder was when God was moving furniture and lighning was when he was in a battle

Ashley Wood

When I was 4 I told my mom I didn't want to be a Christian because when my Sunday school teacher said Jesus would be in your heart, I thought he would literally be inside of me, so I would be all lumpy. I didn't want to be lumpy. Today I am a Christian.

Julia

I used to believe that Jesus was Catholic and Portuguese. I was probably 12 when my Orthodox Jewish neighbors explained to me that he was neither Catholic or Portuguese. I ran home crying to my mom telling her what the neighbors next door were telling me and she sat me down and explained to me that this was the truth.

Sara

I used to think that Jesus only lived four months, and had magically gone from a baby to an adult between Christmas and Easter.
I didn't study religion that much...

Aretia

When I was little, I thought God lived on my nightstand. He was like 3 inches tall, had a long green robe, and had the face identical to my Uncle Harvey - white scruffy beard, round glasses. When people mention God now, that's all I can picture.

Felicia

When I was young, my Sunday School teachers asked my class if Jesus had ever spoken to us. When we said no, they told us that he would someday. For a while, I believed that one day, Jesus would show up at my bedroom door to have a conversation with me!

Anon

I used to think that Muslims didn't eat ANYTHING during Ramadan, instead of fasting during the day and eating at night. So when I started hearing that people die if they go, say, a week without eating, I thought, "That's not true, some people do it for a whole month for their religion!"

Aretia

I used to believe that Bible stories were not only fairy tales, but that they were written by Disney.

Spencer

Because Christmas was in December and Easter was in April(ish), I thought that Jesus' whole life was lived in that time frame. He was born on Christmas, then BAM! turned into an adult a few month later.

You know, because he's God and all, and when you're a kid, that's the same as magic.

Dana

One sunny Sunday in June just after summer vacation started when I was seven, I was swinging while my mom's back was to me as she was hanging the clothes to dry. It was a perfect moment to really lean back and swing high like I was told not to. I leaned a little too far back and slid off the swing, bashing my elbow on a rock. God had gotten me!

I ran into the house and buried my face crying into the couch so he wouldn't hear me, after all I'd gotten what I deserved for disobeying my mom. Complaining would just make Him angrier. For the rest of the day I stoically held my arm still and said I was fine. In my mind I had to accept my punishment and it would stop hurting when God forgave me.

By nightfall it was clear something was seriously wrong with my arm so they took me to the hospital. I actually broke my elbow and for some reason spent 3 days in the hospital (this was back in the days when parents couldn't stay) This really scared me so I was very wary of disobeying my parents for quite a while.

little martyr