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When I was young, Mom. my sister and myself went to the Southern Baptist Church in town. In Sunday School I learned of how kind Jesus was and how he helped people. I liked the art and crafts activities. But the preacher's sermons afterward were another matter entirely. He screamed at the congregation and told them they were going to Hell if they didn't do such-and-such. I didn't understand any of it. I said to myself I was going to invent another religion when I grew up, one that would not be so judgemental.
My mother stopped going when I was 9. I didn't really miss it. I am grateful to her and to my father also that they didn't make me go anymore. The members of the church tried to get my mother to go back but she wouldn't, for whatever reason. Most of them stopped being her friend.
My mother became ill and died of cancer when I was 12. My big sister diligently took care of her at home between hospital stays. The pastor came to visit my mother and told my sister that she would serve the Lord better by attending church Sundays rather than staying home with our dying mother. My sister never went back to that church and neither did I.
After that it was easy to look at Christianity from an outsider's perspective. The junior high English class in public school was my first introduction to a detailed study of much of the Old Testament. It sure taught me a lot!