Saturday, January 3, 2015

Religion vs. Me | Part I--The Back Story

Many many many people ask me why I dont attend church anymore, (or rather, why I pop in and out at the last second, salute my tunnel-visioned mother and then jet off to continue my day elsewhere).

Religion has always been a touchy topic for me, and something that most people know, I never divulge into. Why is this? My relationship with religion goes way back and most of the companions who I friended later in my life probably would never guess how deep those roots go.

To say that I was "raised in a Christian home" would be an understatement. I was not simply raised in Christianity--I was conceived, born, bred, actively conditioned 24 hours a day, seven days a week to live, breathe, and eat Christianity.

To give a brief summary, my late grandfather founded one of the very first Vietnamese-American Christian churches in Southern California some time after the Vietnam War. My grandpa, in a nutshell, was the Pastor Chuck of the Vietnamese people. (Their words not mine). The people loved my grandpa and his doting wife and of course to maintain appearances, they conditioned their kids to be miniature versions of themselves.

Fast forward decades later, and my whole family was running that church-- Youth Pastor, Worship Leader, Sunday School Teacher, Kids Ministry, Deacon Board--all uncles, aunts, cousins, and my mother; it was like the Borgias with no sex and a lot of under-the-table nepotism shrouded with religion. All this to say, my family wielded a lot of social scrutiny from their positions and by default, so did I.

Because of my precarious position,  I was frequently reminded by my grandparents that we were "Pastor's grandkids" and to always consider how we were perceived by the church. One false move and it would be the talk of the town by next week. If this were Footloose, I'd be Ariel Moore.


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