If we think about God in worldly terms, then He is in an abusive relationship with me. He loves me so much. He created me and knows me perfectly. He knows my mistakes before I make them and worked that into His plan for me. I don't always love Him or praise Him. I rejected Him for at least 7 years.
He called me to San Diego under the guise of a bilingual environment and warm weather. He introduced me to church-going friends. Close friends who spoke about their relationship with God. Curious, I went to church. It was different from my guilt-ridden, more rigid background. I heard acknowledgment of a journey to Christ. You may not have accepted him at this moment. I had never heard this perspective before. Not believing is an acceptable option? I'm still allowed in the church? (Let me be clear, when I first began attending "church" in California, it was at a person's house.) I had operated on the premise of "You accept God and Jesus" and you praise in a building with a steeple and pews. Suddenly, I found myself among people who welcomed questions about God and his existence. It's ok to ask questions? Hallelujiah! I attended "church" every now and then. I saw it move from a house to a high school auditorium. I attended sporadically enough so people had a vague recollection of who I was, but we were still stuck in the "small talk" phase. I felt God's presence; I saw genuine worship; I saw His family growing. But, I still was unable to commit. I let two obstacles keep me from church: amount of sleep and time. Church started at 10:30. Now I haven't slept that late consistently since I was in an undergrad. Sometimes Sunday was my only day to sleep in without setting an alarm. I hate setting my alarm. I was worried I'd be too tired. Then there was the time issue, church didn't end until noon. But I'd hang out for food afterward so sometimes I wouldn't get home until closer to 1 in the afternoon. I work best in the morning and my morning would be gone. The days I went to church felt like I had more hours in the day than Sundays I stayed home. Psalm 3:5 I lie down and sleep; I wake again, because the Lord sustains me. I realized that the Lord sustained me. I could go to church, feel rested, and be productive.
God kept pursuing me. The order of events is fuzzy at this point. I enjoyed attending church, but I wasn't fully convinced Jesus was real. How could I know of something that happened so long ago? How can I fathom Jesus existed--and died for me? I began reading Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis; I decided to attend church weekly; He led me to a small group-where I've built relationships through laughter and God's love. One of my many examples of an answered prayer.
I struggled knowing if God existed. I had heard Him described as a playwright, the author of my life. I prayed He would show me his authorship in my life. He did. I studied human rights while I worked toward my bachelor's degree. We talked about trafficking men, women, and children for labor and sexual exploitation. My community group and I hosted an event to sell products from women who had been trafficked. We raised awareness and helped to sustain those women economically. Many people from church attended and we even piqued the interest of other patrons at the bar. Yes, we hosted an event at the bar and one of the pastors attended. One day, my boyfriend was planning on attending church with me. I was excited. He woke up not feeling well and decided to stay home. I had been planning on attending church, so I still went. Someone spoke about a non-profit group starting in San Diego with the intentions of helping women who are being trafficked in San Diego. I went to an informational meeting, a few actually. I've given my name and number to help volunteer, but I haven't received a call. It may not have worked out as I intended, but at the time it was clearly a theme in my life, a theme that began several years earlier. I knew it was God showing me how he has woven my life together.
Furthermore, the church I attend is bilingual. There are 2 pastors, one a monolingual English speaker and the other a bilingual English/Spanish speaker. The music director does a great job presenting music in English, Spanish, and sometimes in Swahili or Korean.
Also, I had wanted to help with an organization called African Alliance that connects people with African refugee families. Together with my community group, I've been able to help out with an African family. I've been told the struggle, the journey to accept God is the best part. I didn't believe it, either. I was confused and frustrated and intrigued. It's raw and a very intimate time with God. The first time I met with my community group we needed to discuss a passage in Samuel about Hannah. I can't remember, which one. She prayed her heart out. She was so honest with God and angry. She didn't hold anything back. She was literally barren because she had not yet become pregnant. We had to talk about how our lives were barren with complete strangers. There's a certain bond that comes out of such a heavy conversation. Skip the small talk--this is the nitty gritty. I think I felt barren, because I was seeking God. I'm impatient and wanted everything sorted and settled. I attended a Curious Discussion Forum with others doubting God's existence, but by the time the "class" began I felt that I had already accepted God. It felt like I was in a different place than the rest, but I enjoyed the discussion and the people. It was extended and included how to live life as a Christian. That was the part I really needed. I learned a way to pray and other strategies, like writing Bible verses on index cards. I've always loved collecting quotes and now I have one giant quote book to read. God showed me the intricacy of his plan for me. I saw the themes repeating-it was no coincidence. He's real. He wants me to accept him. So, I've accepted Jesus, as my savior, and God as my Lord. I still screw things up; I still have a question or two, but God does not give up on me. He's waiting until I go home to heaven. Another concepts that is hard for me. My body doesn't just rot in the ground? What about people who are cremated? Until then, he is my strength. When I show love to my neighbor or find even more patience-I know it is through him. I am a sinner, hoping Jesus rubs off on me more and more as I hear he does. Ironically, admitting I'm a sinner is very liberating. I am NOT perfect, nor will I be until I join God in heaven. I will not be perfect in a fallen world. I will make mistakes. Jesus paid the penalty of my mistakes, so I can share in God's love with him. For now I hear myself praise God and think how a year ago I didn't believe in him. It feels like a disconnect sometimes. I'm adjusting to this new perspective. It's hardest among people who have known me before I moved to California. I feel like the same person, but some things have changed. A change for the better, but still an adjustment. I think the most difficult part is talking about it. I don't know how to put it into words. I barely understand it myself. When you feel something so strongly, it cannot be ignored or written off. After all, C.S. Lewis was an atheist before he wrote Mere Christianity. I was turned off to God by listening to other people. I've heard new opinions, new people, and have started reading the gospels for myself. I hear Jesus complain of religious hypocrites just like my father.
While I can never live up to God's standards, He's with me for better and for worse. But if He were your friend and I were his girlfriend, your advice would be "Dump her!"Fortunately, grace is above worldly standards and our God is truly a loving God.
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