If you missed Part 1, you can find it here: https://www.theodysseyonline.com/why-chose-religio...

As I mentioned in my last article, after my mom got sick, I began to escape that reality through videogames and pornography. Here is Part 2 of Why I Chose My Religion.

Escape Through Video Games and Pornography

Although my mom got sick, I got a PlayStation 2, a computer, and plenty of games to play on both. I escaped reality almost every day to go kill fake people, save fake people, and love fake people.

Also, one day I got caught by my dad googling naked girls in fourth grade and did not do it again until sixth grade when I found and became enraptured by something known as the porn industry.

I could care less about God at the time. If video games weren’t in heaven, I wasn’t interested. Porn was cool too. I loved them so much because they saved me from my rough situation and depression and gave me meaning and pleasure.

Wasn’t Jesus supposed to do something like that? I don’t know, maybe, but video games were much more fun than all of that church stuff.

In middle school, I was the best gamer I knew. Playing games like Call of Duty 4 when they first came out on the same TV with my brothers and neighbors made me a great player and fed my addiction because I won almost every game, both with friends and with random people online.

I also excelled in sports, which were easier for me standing at 6 feet by 6th grade. Being funny also made me feel good. I had a natural gift to make others laugh but, unfortunately, used it to make fun of others during my middle school and early high school years. Still, life felt good despite my mom's disease.

Middle School and Not Caring About God

I continued to attend church in middle school. They had these things called youth events on Wednesday nights, which I dreaded. I only had one friend in my grade, and he only went to Sunday school. So I felt alone there.

My dad told me it would be as fun as I made it. It actually was enjoyable when I had a good attitude about it, but I would still prefer to stay inside my house and play video games.

Each week, the youth pastor would ask us to bring non-Christian friends. I guess they did not trust us to share our religion ourselves. They didn’t teach us. Anyway, I myself was not the biggest fan of Jesus, and I did not even have friends who did not identify as Christian.

We also did community work one day a year and also went on a one-week summer retreat like good token Christians.

My spiritual life felt as handicapped as my mom’s physical life appeared to be. She could not talk, and I did not talk about my spiritual walk.

I only ate whatever biblical teaching was put in my mouth. I did not read the Bible, share the gospel, or pray myself like she did not eat on her own.

I sinned every day like my mom had bathroom accidents.

She seemed not to know what was going on. I did not care what was going on. Still, I was depressed.

Fast forward.

High School and Mom's Death

Sophomore year of high school. Driving. Awesome. Dating was successful until we broke up. Football coaches from the conference chose me for the 2nd team all-state award. Great.

Trying to get rid of my porn addiction failed.

The church became a little more likable.

Mom remained sick, and dad and she started watching church on TV.

Then spring came.

Then Easter.

Mom died on Resurrection Sunday (The third day of Easter weekend).

Ironic, don’t you think, but perhaps God intended her to be in heaven on the peak holiday of the Christian faith.

Not feeling sad was the worst part of her death for me. During her ten years of sickness, I disconnected from my mom and rarely spoke to her, thinking her unable to understand.

My dad brought out an old notebook of hers. She started this one when she received her diagnosis. It contained written prayers for God to bless the future of my siblings and also prayers for healing. She only made it ten pages in before blank pages appeared.

I cried and cried and cried. Never had I ever cried before about my mom, but just seeing this notebook penetrated my mask of indifference and released my inner sorrow.

Friends and family brought a lot of support from all over. My aunt flew 2,000 miles and my uncle flew 7,000 miles to watch my dad and grandparents bury their sister, wife, daughter, and my mother.

Her death changed my perspective on life. Being alive tomorrow is not guaranteed. Rather than not care about anyone or anything, love people with everything. Life is precious. Don’t waste it.

My perspective on life changed, but soon my whole life would change. Read Part 3 to find out how.