"And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ."--Philippians 1:6 (ESV)
In my last entry I talked about how our church helped out with Stop Hunger Now. Well, I made an observation that night that seemed just nostalgic and meaningless at the time. However, the more I thought about it, the more important that observation became to me. The more I thought about it, the more I came to an understanding. This understanding really led to me to truly encounter Christ for the first time in over ten years. I'd like to share it with you now, if you don't mind.
As we were finishing up with the meal packaging process, my table shut down and I engaged in one my favorite hobbies: people watching. Of particular interest to me were a pair of teenagers, a boy and a girl. I don't know their names, but I suspect that they're probably late high school age. I admired them for taking a night out of their week to come serve. I admired the zeal they had for service. I admired how much fun they were having doing it!
As I watched them, an observation came to my mind. I used to be just like them. When I was in high school and my early college years, I was heavily involved in church, and for the most part, I enjoyed it! I went to youth group every week. I started playing my trumpet and singing in church during junior high school. By the time I graduated and went to college, I was not only one of the worship leaders and liturgists at our church, but I was also a cantor at the biggest Catholic Church in Ogden. I loved it! I spent parts of two summers working at an orphanage in Sonora, Mexico, doing things like repairing swamp coolers, installing septic systems, and preparing meals for the kids. I majored in Psychology and decided I wanted to enter the clergy.
Then it all went to hell.
The reasons that it went to hell aren't all that important. Well, I guess they're still important to me, but I'm not going to go into great detail. We'll suffice it to say that once I got a first hand look at inner-church politics, I wasn't impressed with what I saw. One thing led to another, and our church ended up closing. Hurt feelings abounded for many people, but me in particular. I felt betrayed. I was angry. I was bitter. I wasn't sure how God could let what was happening happen. My desire to enter the ministry evaporated.
At this point, I started to ask a lot of questions about God, faith, and the world around us. These questions were all asked while I carried a tremendous chip on my shoulder. The answers I seemed to find made it impossible for me to reconcile being a Christian with what I had come to believe about the world in general.
I left the church, I left it all. Not only did I leave it, but I came inherently hostile to anything that smacked of religion in general and Christianity in particular. I openly espoused this viewpoint to anyone would listen and to a lot of folks who really didn't want to listen, which just made me even more angry.
There were a few times over the years where my stance softened for awhile. When my wife and I got married, we were married in the Catholic church, and as I had already been exposed to that, I tried that out. I was drawn to the liturgy and use of music that sounded contemporary without being a "praise chorus." Some more things happened, some significant, some not so much. I had trouble in my marriage and started to watch everything I had fall away from me: again. After that, my bitterness and anger reached it's tipping point, paralyzing my life. I went out of my way to alienate anyone and everyone who tried to get close to me. My wounds ran deep.
However, over the last year things started to change. I had interactions with some people who showed me that not all Christians were Pharisees. I came into contact with a new perspective that said that Christianity wasn't about judging, but that it was about love, love for everyone, love that Jesus lived. I also decided to take my parents up on their offer to come to church with them and hear their new pastor. I immediately liked him and what he had to say.
Within a couple of weeks he knew my name. Other people in the church made me feel welcome. These are people who have been praying for me for years. They were familiar with my struggles, because my parents had been asking them to pray for me. They didn't look at me as a weirdo or a newbie, they looked at me as part of their community. It's meant a lot to me.
Pastor Gary and these people have given me a place to heal.
I can't adequately express how much this means to me. As I said earlier, my wounds run deep. You might say I've lost a lot of spiritual blood. To be certain, some of these wounds will scar over and always be with me in some way. They'll always be a part of me, a part of my experience.
I've come to this realization though. God's not done with me. He never was. I went from super-Christian teen, to ministry candidate, to militant atheist that openly denied everything I once believed, but I see now that God was always there waiting, working in the background waiting for this prodigal son to come home. I had to get to the point where I wanted to come home. Once I was there, he put the path in place for me to do so.
And you know what? Jesus doesn't care if we're broken and scarred when we come to him, or in my case, come back to him. He's a specialist in dealing with people with scars because he bares scars of his own. One of his followers betrayed him with a kiss. As he was being tried and persecuted, his best friend denied that he even knew him, not once, but three times. He was tortured and killed even though he didn't deserve it.
It's this Jesus who says to me. "It's ok. Don't be afraid, I always loved you, even when you denied me and cursed me. Come home now, it's time to heal and forgive." It all hit me this morning as I sang:
I, the Lord of snow and rain,
I have borne my peoples pain.
I have wept for love of them, They turn away.
I will break their hearts of stone,
Give them hearts for love alone.
I will speak My word to them,
Whom shall I send?
And I wept, just a little, managing to hold most of it in. I wept because I'm home and I'm loved. I wept because God's not done, I believe he has a special place and a purpose for those with the most terrible scars.
This all started watching two young people serve others. I was just like them once, and then life happened. However now I know that God can live in me and work through me as he did with Peter, even after he denied him.
And for that grace I'm thankful beyond words.
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