My Story

The leader of my men's group encouraged everyone to write out their "story". This is what I shared with the group on May 10th.

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I grew up on a small tree nursery farm located a few miles outside of Lake Geneva, WI. My parents had 6 kids; 5 boys and a girl. I was the 2nd oldest. I had a wonderful childhood. Our parents were loving and caring, and full of encouragement. My brothers and I were good pals; most of the time. We enjoyed the freedom of living in the country with go-carts and mini-bikes, fishing poles and bb guns. We raised chickens and sheep in 4H, and we played baseball, football, and wrestled in school sports. My father wasn't always a tree farmer, it was his hobby/side-job. He was an airline pilot by profession, and maintained a grass runway down the center of the farm. For those of us that wanted to learn to fly, he taught us, right there, in our backyard, in an Aeronca Champ two-seat trainer. My mother enjoyed a nearly 40-year career as a nurse. She loved her family, her job, and the people she cared for.

My parents and both sets of grandparents were devout Catholics. We went to church every Sunday, and every Holy Day. We went to confession about once every other month on Saturdays. We said the rosary as a family nearly every day; mostly after dinner, or whenever we were in the car for an extended period of time. When we were young my brothers and I sometimes "played" mass at home. We had our chalices, bells, and candles, and we alternated the roles of priest and alter boys. My parent’s bedtime routine was comforting; with the lights out, they stood at the bottom of the stairs and said good-night prayers; usually the Lords Prayer, an Act of Contrition, a Hale Mary, and then they asked God to bless all of us. My parents made a lot of sacrifices so they could afford to send their kids to catholic schools. We got a good education, and the priests and nuns taught us the Catholic faith.

We were taught from a very young age that there were mortal sins and venial sins. Mortal sins were the really bad sins, like killing someone, robbing a bank, or committing adultery. Intentionally missing mass on a Sunday was also considered a mortal sin. Venial sins were the less severe ones, like saying God's name in vain, disobeying your parents, lying, or cheating. Mortal and Venial sins were attached to your soul and stayed there until you confessed them to a priest during the sacrament of confession. If you died with a mortal sin on your soul, you went to hell for eternity. If you died with a venial sin on your soul, you went to purgatory. Purgatory was a place that was neither heaven nor hell, and you stayed there until God thought you had sufficiently paid for your sins, and then you joined him in heaven. My brothers and my friends didn't really take this mortal sin stuff too seriously, but I did. Hell was something that I sensed was very real, and it scared me - a lot.

A couple months into my first year of college, I did something with a girl one Friday night that was definitely considered a mortal sin. The next day, overwhelmed with guilt and anxiety, I walked to the local Catholic Church to participate in the sacrament of confession. I nervously explained to the young priest what had happened the night before, and that I was scared about going to hell. He calmly told me that everything was OK, and said that God would forgive me whether I confessed my sins to him (the priest), or directly to God with a silent prayer. He also told me that what had happened with the girl may happen again at some point, especially if I went to more beer parties. He encouraged me to avoid those situations, but if it did happen again I should simply ask God directly for his forgiveness, and that I would be forgiven. I left there confused but relieved, and in the days and weeks that followed, I began to wonder how this priest could unilaterally change what I thought was a fundamental teaching of the Catholic Church regarding the sacrament of confession, and the graveness of mortal sins. But I was also taught that the local priest was our earthly connection to God, and whatever a priest said was as good as hearing it from God himself. I wondered what other Catholic teachings from my childhood might not be square with this priest. Instead of going back to ask him these questions, I simply drifted away and eventually stopped going to church. Over the next 15 years I chose to ignore whatever connection I previously had with God.

After graduating from college in 1989, I became an airline pilot, and in 1997 I got married to an incredible woman, Annie, who I am still madly in love with. After we had our first child, my parents became quite concerned that we didn’t get him baptized. Annie was willing to have it done just to appease my parents, but I refused. I resented all the grief I had as a young Catholic, and wanted nothing to do with the Catholic Church. But my parents were persistent … and we argued … and Peter was never baptized. Instead I educated myself on the Catholic Church. I studied the seven sacraments of the Catholic Church in incredible detail. Not just what the current teachings were, but I dug into the history of it all; when and how they came to be. After the sacraments, I moved on to the Popes, and attacked their claim of Apostolic Succession. If I could prove the Pope was not legitimate, that would prove the Catholic Church was false. This was my obsession over a 6-month period; it's basically all I read, and I filled a big binder with notes. I wanted to know the Catholic Church better than my parents, and I wanted to prove them wrong.

Meanwhile, my wife, who had no church upbringing as a child, started attending a large non-denominational Christian church that was in our area. Because of my low seniority at the airline, I worked nearly every weekend. But when I was in town, I would go to the church with her. We both enjoyed it, but mostly because of the music, the skits, and the free childcare. We were a little leery about the content of the messages; especially when the pastors talked about having a relationship with God. One pastor liked to talk about going on walks with God, and that he had conversations with him. I was a little more skeptical of this new form of Christianity than my wife, but we continued to attend. It was comfortable, entertaining, and nobody pressured us. The only people that seemed a little off were the pastors, and the few people that raised their hands during the worship music. Everyone else seemed very normal and friendly.

Between my occasional visits to this church, and my Catholic studies, I realized that I was not very familiar with the bible. In fact, I knew almost nothing about it. I knew the main stories about Jesus, and the story of Noah and Moses, but just bits and pieces, nothing more. It took me a while to realize that the Old Testament dealt with the period before Jesus, and that the New Testament was post-Jesus. To me the bible seemed cryptic, and hard to read with all the "ye's" and "thou's". But in the church bookstore I was pointed to a version of the bible called "The Message". It was the New Testament written in contemporary English, and the paperback version was only $5.

This book changed my life. I found it absolutely fascinating. Like a Tom Clancy novel, I couldn’t put it down. It was beautiful, and I fell in love with the character of Jesus. I read through all 4 gospel stories in just a few days. I got slowed down with the chapters after the gospels, so I went back and re-read some of the stories from the beginning. Fascinating stuff, but I didn't know if I could trust it to be true. I felt like I was duped once by the Catholic Church, and I didn't want it to happen again. I resisted reading more of it until I could prove to myself that it was a trustworthy document. So I put my Catholic studies aside, and started reading books about the history of the New Testament. How it came to be; who wrote it, when it was written, and how it was passed down and translated through the years. As I did this I became overwhelmed with questions. Trying to disprove the Catholic Church seemed easy compared to finding the proof that the bible was all true. It certainly seemed to be a legitimate historical document, but could it have been falsified to some extent? And how do you interpret it? Did all the stories have to be literally true? Could some be metaphorically true? Why does the bible sometimes seem to contradict itself? Who is that God in the Old Testament who seems OK with war and killing and often seems angry and vindictive? How can we trust those that decided which books and letters belong in the present day bible? How can we trust those that wrote the bible? How could the people who wrote the gospels remember all the little details when they were written decades after Jesus died?

I also had much broader questions about the nature of God, like:

Why all the suffering? Torture, slavery, rape, brutal murders, child abuse, and broken families? Why doesn't God make himself more known, instead of hiding inside a 2000 year old book that was written in the context of an ancient culture that is difficult to understand? What happens to all the truly good people that never got to know Jesus due to no fault of their own? Do they go to hell? What exactly is hell? How could an all good God turn into an unforgiving monster at the end of someone's short life, and punish them with an eternity of torture? Is God real if evolution is true?

So many questions ... and I was exhausted after nearly a year of combined study.

On September 11, 2001, my plane was stranded in Buffalo, New York. I spent 5 days there, most of the time I was either watching the news in my hotel room reading about the Muslim religion in the bookstore across the street. I wanted to know what kind of religion could drive people to kill others in the name of God. What I found was the leap of faith required by followers of the Muslim religion was about 100 times greater than what was required to believe in Jesus and the bible. I wanted Jesus in my life, I craved him, and I prayed to him.

I have found good answers to some of my questions, others I’ve given up on. It doesn't matter how many books I read, or how many people I discuss these things with, there are no absolute answers to some of my questions. Some things will always remain a mystery. There was no exact moment that I can remember when I accepted Jesus as the truth, and became his follower. It happened over time, but I eventually discussed it with my wife, and she laughed. She didn't need all the thought and study, she had given herself over to Jesus long before because she knew in her heart that it was true. We got baptized together in that non-denominational church in 2002, and have called it our church home since.

Today I put all my faith in Jesus. Not any one church, or pastor, but simply Jesus, who is God the creator. 2000 years ago he humanized himself, and lived among us on earth for a little more than 30 years. He taught us the right way to live, described what the Kingdom of God is like, and gave us the ultimate gift of love… his sacrificial death on the cross. As the creator of what is sometimes a brutal and cruel world, he humbled himself enough to personally experience the worse of what human nature had to offer. I love that about him. When I was younger, I thought being in God’s grace was all about not doing certain things. I still try not to disobey him, but I think it’s more about what we do, rather than what we don’t do. Jesus tells us in Matthew Chapter 22 about the two most important commandments; and it’s all about love. It’s an uncomplicated message, and I use it as my primary guide in life.

I never had that discussion with my parents about what I found wrong with the Catholic Church. I don't have a lock on what’s right and wrong. I was there when my Dad and his sister said the rosary together at my Grandma’s bedside as she gently passed away. I know God was present in that room, and it was a beautiful thing. I believe that God is always there, ready to have a relationship with people at any time and place, and in any church. We don’t have to have everything figured out. God is the judge, and I trust that everything will work out because Jesus is all about love and goodness.

New Driveway

Tired of patching this old driveway. Out with the old, in with the new! Get the skateboards ready, this baby is going to be smooth.