When I was about 6 or 7 years old my family finally decided to get into church. We never really went before that. We bounced around to many different Protestant denominations, and eventually ended up in the Presbyterian church. We stayed there for about two years, and I recall my brother, mother, and myself never feeling at home. Not sure if my father did or not.
I remember we got in trouble for playing with He-Man figures, cause they were called “the Masters of the Universe”. It had no bearing on us switching denominations though. My father was a Catholic growing up, had gone through a nasty divorce once, and thought he could never go back into the Church. My mother and father ended up deciding to just try out the local Catholic Church, and so we went.
I remember very very strongly the feeling of being home the very first time walking into the doors and attending Mass the first time. Never felt like that at any of the other churches we went to.
Became Catholic around age 9, officially anyway, and stayed within the Church till about age 16 or so. At 16, I met my first wife, and walked away from the faith. She had a nice body, drugs, all the fun things that I cared about at the time.
I would always go back to Mass when my life was at a horribly low point. Always stayed in contact with those that had helped me the most back in my teenage years.
About 7 years later, when I was 23, my life hit rock bottom. Ended up facing a 20 year prison sentence. When I arrived in jail, I looked to God and said “Alright, you win, I can not do things my way anymore”
The only way for me to get bonded out of jail, was from one of my friend’s father. He was hesitant, as he knew me growing up, and I was less than the perfect child. He told me if I would go on a certain retreat, that he would bail me out. I said “I don’t give a s*** what I gotta agree to, just get me out”
I was out for awhile, I stopped doing drugs, started working on getting a steady job, and taking care of the things I needed to. I ended up going on a TEC To Encounter Christ retreat. I can’t honestly say that it was all great and what not, but I do know that I came out of that retreat with a sense of purpose once again.
A few months rolled by, and I got a phone call asking if I would come and be on the next TEC team. I said I would, cause it would surround me with decent people. The very next day the DA wanted to see me and my lawyer. We went down to the courthouse to see him, and he presented me with a folder full of letters that those on TEC, my family, and friends had written him. They described the change in me over the few months.
The DA decided to let me off on a pretrial diversion. Pay back the money I stole, plus some, and do some community service. He asked what more was going on in my life, and I told him I had agreed to work on the next TEC weekend. He told me that would count for my community service. I had 120 hours to do.
I worked the next two TEC weekends, which are easily about 60 hours or more of work per weekend. Paid the money back, and never looked back. I am now a council member of the TEC community, and it has been about 9 years since I made my first TEC.
Long story short, way to late I know, it was home. Felt like home, felt like Christ wanted me there. That Christ wanted me there so badly he was willing to let me do horrible things in attempt to draw me back.
