Last time we ended at my earliest church memories, or rather my earliest memories of hearing the gospel. A major event in my life that I would only realise it to be that many, many years later. Throughout the years growing up my respect for this character called Jesus never really went away completely eventhough I had nothing to do with church. Sure I’d forget about him for long periods of time, not even a question on my mind why excistence is. And yes there also have been moments where I was pretty blasphemous. Good golly, especially when I was a teenager (don’t most of them do that?). But then there were also brief moments where I’d state my case for Him…totally out of the blue not even knowing why. These were really interesting moments looking back now.
As a teenager I was a considered a Goth kid. However I was more of a fantasy roleplaying game nerd dressed in a long raincoat and combat boots, and this was even way before Goth was a “thing”. Some people knew the word, but for some reason they thought it was a diffirent word for hippies…sure why not. Oh there was also this one=> I was suposidly the leader of a cult according to some guy…ah kids can be harsh…and stupid.
Anyway getting back to making a case for Jesus. At some point between the many jabs and taunts people would throw at me this one arose: “You look like Jesus in a bathrobe”. Because of the long hair and raincoat, hah good one. Somehow I didn’t know any better then to respond “why thank you, it’s an honour to be compared to Him, because it’s Jesus and of all people none is higher then him” or something allong those lines. She was a bit dumbfounded by this. Thinking back, so am I,…how in the world did I come up with a response like that?
Or this one, at some point during class one of our teachers said sort of mocking “Hah, you kids these days, none of you are Godfearing” (wel actually she said “Godvruchtig” which means able to bear the fruits of God). Somehow I felt like making a case out of this, so I spoke up loud and clear.
She: “I don’t believe you”
me: “I know I am”.
End of argument. The class was awkwardly silent after that…
And this one (as I write it all comes back to me) we had finals and everybody was stressing their hinders off, trying to come up with creative responses to the teachers their challenges. One of the tasks was to paint love. Yeah that’s vague huh, that’s art school for ya.
Somehow, I felt the urge to paint Jesus on the cross, and so I did. Even under protest from the teacher, she thought it was sappy. But I was determined, I was gonna paint Jesus with light around Him and for some reason a flag that said “blues”.
Now I can wear these memories with some pride but I’d be lying if I left out my less glorious artschool endeavours. Like at some point I had the “brilliant” idea to paint Jesus surrounded by some strippers and prostitutes doing their jobs around the cross…it wasn’t my intention to depict Jesus as the Lord who loves everybody regardless of their background, it was to mock him. Luckely a teacher stopped me from doing that. If any of you reading this thinks of this as sensorchip of the arts or the expressions of a young man. I can asure you that I’m glad the teacher did. You know how sometimes years later you whish you could take something back you said to someone? Wel yes, that exactly.
So these are just some of my funny memories growing up and walking a fine line between a rebel and a minister of the gospel (without even beeing aware of it). This story is far from done. We’ll get to the ranting later, I’ll post my rants as they come in between.
Wel mah little fishies, that’s it for today. As I said last time, small bites, I don’t wanna overfeed (bore) you guys to death.
Have a gud one!