My story

A part of my reading today took me through Psalm 73, which compares the earthly success of the wicked in comparison to the eternal rewards of the righteous.

 Yikes, just typing wicked vs. righteous sounds pretty big to me. I don’t see myself falling completely into either of those camps, yet that’s how we are described. What I think I understand, though, is that through Jesus, all can be righteous.

 I’d much rather be righteous than wicked, even if that sounds a bit overwhelming. I guess in realizing that I am righteous only through Him, it is much more approachable. But how can that always be? I make a lot of mistakes. And there were many years in my life that I didn’t seek much guidance from Jesus, yet He was still there.

 The psalmist writes, in Psalm 73:2-3 and 23-24:

 ² But as for me, my feet had almost slipped. I had nearly lost my foothold. ³ For I envied the arrogant when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.

 ²³Yet I am always with you, you hold my by my right hand. ²⁴You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory.

 Like I said, I can’t help but think of the times I’ve slipped away from Jesus, leading myself with pride. I’m not implying that I had a major crazy spell, but I’ve certainly had times when I wasn’t living the way God intended me to live. And I wasn’t seeking his guidance, either. I did pray here and there. And I can quite distinctly remember saying “Thank you!” many times. But I wasn’t really in touch with the Lord.

 I might as well tell you a little about my story, or my faith journey, or whatever you want to call it.

 Growing up, church wasn’t much of a priority. I vaguely remember going to one or two vacation Bible schools. Most of what I remember about those was lots of cool face painting and learning how to weave a basket. And moving around from place to place a lot.

 Through the years I knew that following God (which meant following Jesus) was the “right” thing to do, but I didn’t understand many of the details. I had heard the Christmas story and the Easter story, but those were mostly stories. I never thought much about the actual details.

 I remember at one point my family made an effort to join and attend a church. Around that time I was baptized at the church my mom attended as a little girl and we joined the church near our home. But it felt like a fashion show and I never really felt a part of the action. (Don’t get me wrong, I bet I looked the part. I just never felt a part of the church. I was in the choir and handbell choir, though.) Eventually we stopped going.

 A few years later, in junior high, a friend invited me to her church and I loved it. I had so much fun at youth group and I felt like I was starting to learn about Jesus. I joined the choir and became quite involved. I attended with her family for what I remember to be most Sundays and Wednesdays (for choir) and I loved every minute.

 My parents let me go to church camp for a few summers and I attended a discipleship weekend when I decided I wanted Jesus to be my Lord and Savior. I established a regular quiet time and journaled about my discoveries.

 And I wanted to be baptized again, this time in the Baptist church, so that I could join. This concerned my parents, but they met with the youth pastor and saw this was what I truly wanted. So I was baptized, joined and continued to attend. I can’t remember if my parents went to church with me or not. But I got there somehow, so either they took me or I attended with my friend. I bet my mom went with me a lot.

 I stopped attending church but continued reading the Bible, sometimes journaling about it. We moved farther away from that church and I didn’t find a replacement. I would go to other churches with friends here and there. (That first friend moved far away… to Japan, I think. I wish I could find her.)

 Through the years I prayed here and there, read here and there but didn’t have a focus. I didn’t have a reading plan or devotional plan because I didn’t know where to find one and I didn’t have a church. At Christmas my parents knew that I loved candlelight services so often we would go to a midnight mass. But that was really it. In high school I remember gathering a group of friends and trying out the Catholic Church for a few weeks. I was intrigued by all the pageantry and ritual. But it didn’t stick for me.

 I don’t remember going to church at all, except for two Christmas Eves, through college. After graduation I moved back to the city where I attended in junior high, so I gave the Baptist church I had joined years ago a shot. I was intimidated to try out Sunday School on my own, so I went to worship a few times, but never felt right.

 It wasn’t until another friend invited me to church, that I really felt comfortable. She invited me to attend Easter service and the singles Sunday school class and I loved it. I continued to attend even when she stopped. I again established a regular devotional time and began to explore what it really meant to be a Christian, a believer. I went through several book studies and became a part of a very small women’s study and prayer group.

 I fell away again when I became engaged. I wasn’t sure where I fell in the picture and which Sunday school class to attend.

 It was after the birth of our first child that another friend invited me back, this time to the moms’ group, and my faith really took off. We went through several studies on motherhood and really came to know Jesus and see Him in action. I began to really pray for other women, and they prayed for me. I joined a Bible in 90 Days class and read the whole thing in 97 days. (It took me an extra week, but I did it!) That truly changed my life. Before I felt that the Bible was a collection of stories. While reading it, cover to cover in the 90 days program, it came alive, and I realized it was the living Word of God. I read passages I had read before, yet this time they held new meaning. God was pointing me to the things He wanted me to hear. And it was incredible.

 From then I’ve been much better at keeping a close relationship with Jesus. And I don’t want to slip away again. I owe it to Him… and I owe it to myself. Why not take hold of the most powerful gift if it is offered to me? He is my gift. Not only for eternal life (and that’s a biggie) but also my gift to make it through every single day. And find the joy when I am feeling like I’m losing my mind. He’s got a plan, it just takes my faith in that plan to let it unfold.

 There are plenty more details about my journey I’d like to share with you, but I’ve rambled on and on here. And I don’t want to lose you. I’ll save those for later.

 I just felt I should share more about myself… So you’ll know where I come from. I’m mostly a regular mother/daughter/wife/friend/girl. I don’t have a fantastic story of how my life completely changed from one day to the next.

 But I do know that He’s always been there for me. And often I wonder why and how. Was it because of a great-grandmother that might have prayed over me before I was born and after? Was it because of my mom or grandmother who might have prayed? Or was it because He always wanted to be near me, waiting for the invitation. And once I invited Him in He wouldn’t let go. I don’t know exactly how or why and I don’t even have to know that. But I am certainly thankfully for his never-ending love. And the fact that He was always there, even when I wasn’t calling on Him.