I am a woman of faith. The Lord is my greatest love, Father, Creator and Redeemer. But this was not always the case.
When I was young, I called myself Christian, not knowing what it meant, required, or offered. I only knew this is what people said, so I said it too.
My closest identifier was agnosticism. Doubtful anyone could know the truth of a creator, I subscribed to various bits of many religions I fancied. My moral code was based on no universal truth, but what reasonably seemed right to me. Ethical relativism. Postmodernism. Basically any theory wrapped in the sparkly, albeit often mislabeled bows of “fair” and “tolerant” was going to win a bumper sticker for my car.
At this moment I pause to question: How do people get like this? How do people so readily jump at any ideology or belief system without going past the headline? With knowledge so readily at our fingertips, how could this fog settle in so quickly?
For me — I was starved. I felt abandoned and isolated. Rather than dive into the little bit of faith I had, I did what I felt. Abandoned and isolated. Lost in sadness, the cruel face of pride emerged. With it, came anger and resentment.
Pride demanded better for me. Better than God. Or at least, the God I thought I knew. Pride built me up, and knocked down everything else. What deity could possibly create me or deserve me?
Agnosticism has a false mask of humility, claiming ‘who are we to ever understand such greatness?‘ Yet under this mask is Pride. Pride blinding eyes and clogging ears to truth. It declares no deity could match up to my standards of what God should be. So either there is not one, or we must not be capable of knowing one.
Even with all the cherry-picking of religious ideals I was doing, the starvation did not leave me. No matter which humanist concept I clung to, the void remained. Where was my happiness? Wasn’t I doing all the right things? I was healthy, active and connected with friends. I was educated, working and filling my Pinterest boards with the American dream.
If there was a checklist of a life climbing the proverbial ladder, it was done. Flip the chart over, and you would find another list of all my qualities I yearned to be rid of:
- severe depression
- suppressed rage
I blamed the void for causing these, and fought ruthlessly to fill it. A few of my happiness attempts included:
- new relationships
- new pets
- recreational substances
The last I did rarely as a last ditch effort. Alcohol and marijuana have never done this body good. I knew this, yet it didn’t stop me from seeing friends seeming to enjoy their affects and me foolishly thinking I could do the same. I hoped something completely different would happen each time I tried. It never did.
This void was ONLY filled when I started actively seeking a relationship with Jesus Christ.
It was not a quick road. I didn’t randomly hear the gospel one day, and boom — saved. No, this was a long, frustrating journey. One in which I regularly denied Him and His attempts to call me.
I needed proof. I wanted non-Biblical evidence. I asked for supporting documents and minds greater than mine to explain the science and logical truth behind God. I poured over what I could, and in the end — although the evidence was beyond enough, my skepticism begged for more.
How irritating! There is really no other way to describe it. I had longed for years to be rid of this darkness, this loneliness that caused me such pain. Then just as the light became so clear, I hid in my pride. Irritating.
I clung to my comfortable, familiar void. Fearful of real love.
A dear friend (who is now my husband) prayed over me, urging me to turn to the Bible for guidance. I prayed too, asking God to show me what to do. I flipped open my study bible and landed on Psalm 116.
The Lord met me where I was at. This was what I needed to read. I wept, repentant of my sin, and asked for Jesus to be my Lord and Savior.
It’s been almost 9 years from this day. I feel the tug of the Lord as he pulls on my soul toward something new. He is letting me know to be ready.
Here I am, Lord. Send me.