losing my religion

In my elementary school days part of my summer holidays were spent at a bible camp out in Caddy Lake. All of my memories of this time were completely pleasant. In fact I can recall no stigmatic or post-childhood crippling events ever taking place. (Don’t worry Mom; you’re clear.) My days were spent making crafts, rock climbing and suffering through the part of the day I hated most…. Nap time. Though Bible Studies wasn’t my favourite part of the day, it was tolerable. We sang songs, danced and prayed. I can remember coming back home at the end of the summer full of spiritual energy, curious about how religion applied to my life in the city.

Until one summer.

The last year I attended bible camp I discovered doubt. I found myself questioning religion. I began wondering who God really was and if he was real. If he was real, why had I never seen him or felt him? While in Bible Studies one cloudy afternoon I remember being told that if I EVER doubted my faith all I had to do was ask. So I did. I went for a walk alone every night after dinner. I went to the same place every night, sat down on a log and I spoke. I told God that I was beginning to doubt, that I felt like I had never really experienced him before and that I wanted him to show me that he was real. I asked for a sign. Nothing. Night after night. Nothing. And so…at the tender age of 10-ish; I lost my faith. Amazing that I can literally pinpoint the moment that religion failed me. Ironic that it was while at bible camp.