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Notes -
Since you asked, I will tell you. I hope this is not too boring.
Well - I was raised by atheist parents. They weren't vocal about that; I don't think it was even something they decided. They just don't believe anything, and never think about religion. So I was raised with very little exposure to Christianity or any other faith, and I certainly had no developed system of morality, the purpose of life, etc. "Do nice things to other people" and "pursue your happiness" was all I had.
I am a pretty gregarious person; over the course of my life, I met and got to know all kinds of different people from many different backgrounds. In my early 20s, I met two people (in separate places and circumstances - they never knew each other), a man and a woman, who were sincere Christians. Call them A + K I guess. They were open and accessible about it, and would let it be known generally that their faith guided them and drove them in all that they did; they would give thanks to God for anything that they had, and seek solace from God when anything bad happened. Ultimately they would pass out from my life, though I kept in touch with them to some degree; looking back, later, I realized that they were probably the two best people that I ever knew. They both married good partners and built extremely happy lives centered around their family. As people, both of them were intelligent, creative, principled, thoughtful... and just altogether enjoyable to be around as few other people I've known have ever been.
Anyway. After I left that Ph.D program, I cohabitated with a girlfriend, in a terrible apartment which was all we could afford. It was infested with fleas, and water came in through the ceiling often. Having never understood the concepts of networking, internships, etc., I was no more prepared to find work than any man on the street, and so I had a job doing data entry; she was working at a Publix grocery store and going to film school. We were very miserable together. Though we believed we loved each other, we were each dominated in our own way by our insecurities and knowledge of our mediocrity. Furthermore - we had no conception of a future, of what we wanted out of life. I believed I would become a famous novelist, she believed she would become a great filmmaker; this was delusion. We knew absolutely nothing about what is really involved in accomplishing such things. Ultimately: this relationship broke down. We moved back in with our respective parents, since neither of us could carry the lease.
I felt a profound sense that all of my efforts in life were dissipated into nothingness. I failed at everything I tried. I had no money, no prospects; I had even gained like 25 pounds from eating too much "party mix" from big plastic tubs. (That part is not really relevant but I still think about it sometimes.) I considered what successful people I had known had done, and how that differed from how I had lived my own life. I remembered A + K, who were living lives I thought better than my own in every way. Previously, I had thought the claims of Christianity vaguely ridiculous, as that was what my peers believed; at this time, I humbled myself, and began to look into it with a more open mind, for I reasoned that, if nothing else, the people I knew who believed these things and acted accordingly were far happier than I was.
That's the part of the story that actually matters, I guess. The process of becoming a Christian is maybe not as interesting. I started reading a Bible; as I moved around the country during the next few years, I went to various churches, and spent time with pastors and small groups, hearing what they claimed and evaluating if it was something I could accept. Where occasionally some aspects seemed impossible, I concluded that far, far better and wise people than me had accepted them, and I would hold my doubt and wait for full understanding to come at a later time, or never if that's how it turned out. Once I settled in what I think be my permanent geographical area, I formally took membership in a church. I believe as sincerely as I can, and where I do this poorly, I pray to do it better. I do not know if this was, ultimately, a valid, logical, or sensible way of doing things; but it is a true story, and I can also say that my life is better in every single aspect than that of the 24-year-old me who had to move back in with his parents. (Of course, some of that also results from a number of steps I took, also rooted in increased maturity and life experience, that eventually resulted in material prosperity; but that's a story for another time.)
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