I grew up in a Christian home brought up by parents who brought me to church every time the doors were open since I was about two weeks old. Growing up, I knew in my head that I needed to be saved because of what I was taught, so on a number of occasions I would ask God to save me without realizing what it really meant and acknowledging that I was a sinner in God’s sight.
I grew up in a small town, the second child to two typical, middle class parents. My dad was a civil engineer, and my mom volunteered in various capacities along with being a stay-at-home mother. Both of my parents were very religious, and were consistent in taking their children to church and teaching them about God and the Bible. They even sacrificed financially so that all of their children could attend a private, Christian school.
There have been, on occasion in my life, and I am sure in yours, certain moments in time when a word or group of words cannot be uttered. Oh, we may attempt to muster the effort – maybe even use facial expressions as a type of “visual aid,” but try as we might, words fail us from time to time! In my life it happened twice. My name is Lino Zarrillo, and this is my story.
My name is Brian Fetterman, and this is my story. I had been feeling dissatisfied for a while. By anyone’s account, I should have been happy. I had a good job, a nice house, and a loving wife, and was by most measures successful. But I was becoming more and more discontented, not with my situation or status, but with myself.
I grew up near Rochester, New York, and considered myself a good kid. Okay, I wasn’t anything special, but I had Christian parents that passed along Godly values. They taught me to be responsible for my actions, to choose good friends, and to put my best effort into every task. I attended church and became comfortable living in a religious environment.