I wasn’t raised in a home where God was talked about. My mom oversaw the church nursery every Sunday for as long as I can remember, however discussions about religion and faith were not had. I can remember going to church a few times as a kid, usually for some occasion or another. I remember singing the first few lines of ‘Jesus Loves the Little Children.’ But I did not grow up knowing who Jesus was. Despite this complete lack of exposure, my mother still seemed shocked to hear her adult daughter state that she didn’t know what she believed in, and identified as an agnostic. As if faith was just built into your DNA the same way blue eyes or brown hair are.
I suppose you could say (depending on your standards) that I was saved when I was 16. I said a silent prayer accepting Jesus at an FCA meeting. I wasn’t there because I was a Christian, or an athlete. I was there because my friends were and there was nothing else to do in our tiny town. I remember feeling a surge of emotion saying that prayer. I told Mrs. Bond, who at the time was my guidance counselor at school. She also happened to have been my 3rd and 5th grade teacher (did I mention our town was small). She was always after me, in a very loving way, to come to church…to do better…to be the person she knew I was capable of being. She was so overjoyed when I told her about the prayer, and even gifted me a bible shortly thereafter.
I wish I could say that I continued to fulfill her hopes for me, but it would be a lie. I soon reverted back to the disobedient, reckless lifestyle I had been in, and this continued on for years and years. My 20’s and a good chunk of my 30’s were spent making terrible choices, some almost deadly. I spiraled pretty far out of control, and my self worth was next to nonexistent. Such a perfect recipe for disaster. I married a toxic, abusive man who also did not believe, so my agnosticism was further endorsed.
Agnostic, not atheist…because however uneducated I was, I always believed with absolute certainty that I would be okay, no matter the circumstances. That a greater power was in control and my path was made for me. I believed that there was good to be found, even in the terrible things. I just didn’t know what to call that “greater power”. I was ignorant, and openly acknowledged my ignorance. After my marriage self-destructed and I was on my own, I was free to voice my curiosity about “church”, but I was too self conscious and nervous to just show up. I knew that there was a lot I didn’t know, but I didn’t know how to get to it.
Until an unlikely friendship was formed, and in so doing a conversation was had in which I expressed that very sentiment. An invite to church was offered, and I nervously accepted. I didn’t sing the worship songs (b/c singing felt phony), but I listened to the charismatic pastor as he delivered the message of the week. I left feeling less anxious, but still feeling like I didn’t know enough and I was a fake for pretending I did. Over the next 6 months or so, I attended church sporadically. There were some very powerful messages delivered, and in every visit I felt more and more welcomed. I started to refer to myself as a believer, but I still couldn’t shake the feeling of being a phony. I wasn’t a “Christian”. I didn’t pray, or read the bible. I didn’t even know what the bible said past the first few pages. But I knew that I wanted to love people, and treat them with kindness. I knew I wanted to be better than I was. I knew that I wanted to feel whatever it was that the pastor said you could get from loving Jesus.
But how in the world did I get there? I believed Jesus was real, I repeated the prayers and said that I gave Him my heart. Why didn’t I feel what I was supposed to feel? Why wasn’t I overcome with the peace and acceptance of being God’s child? Well…because I was only half in. I didn’t think I was, but I remember thinking things like “I’m not gonna be one of those people. The ones who change everything about themselves once they become a ‘Christian’.” I remember thinking that I wouldn’t listen to “church” music, or stop swearing. I would still be ME. Just a me that believed in God. I even told myself that it made me a better “billboard” for people who weren’t believers…for them to see that even someone as imperfect as me could be loved by God.
I still went to church and related very deeply to so many of the sermons. I brought other people with me, and talked about how much I loved my church to anyone who would listen. But deep down, I still felt like I was an impostor. Then the ground was pulled out from under me and my world was tipped upside down. I fell into a deep darkness, and while I knew that I would survive, the hope and joy was sucked completely from me. With nothing left to grasp onto, I reached for God.
I cried and I prayed and I screamed and begged for God to take the pain from my heart. I knew that He would see me through this, but why wouldn’t He take away the hurt?
It’s only now that I see that I would never have jumped fully into God’s arms if I hadn’t been forced to. If there were any other lifeline, I would have clung to it. But His arms were open and waiting for me, and He walked with me through that darkness.
As the months passed, I found more of myself than I had ever known before. I began to love myself as His daughter, and began to cut the ties of external validation that had pulled me down my entire life. I leaned into Him, and gave Him my pain and worry and fear. I still had setbacks, this wasn’t all uphill bright lights and fun times. But each time felt a little less difficult to climb out of.
I’ve been a member of my church for almost 3 years, and it is only within the last several months or so that I have truly felt like I was all in. Felt like I wasn’t a phony or fake, but a real child of God. I finally feel the blissful peace of knowing I am loved, and unique, and purposeful. I am calm in the knowledge that I am right where I am supposed to be.
I find myself saying “I hear you God” a lot more these days because I am recognizing more and more of His nudges. Things that would so easily be called coincidence, but I know better.
I say all of this b/c I lived a long time under the assumption that being saved meant I would immediately have peace and feelings of belonging. And when I didn’t just feel those things, I felt like I wasn’t “doing it right”. I had to learn that a relationship with God is not immediate, but a product of your effort and choices.
I am a different person now (despite my previous vows that I wouldn’t be), but finding your faith and accepting it SHOULD make you a different person. There is still a lot that I don’t know, but I’m actively learning.
I think a lot more people feel the way I did, and I feel like they keep it quiet the same way I did. So I want you to know that if you are someone who can relate to this, you’re not a fake. Don’t stop believing (yes, I sang that like Journey in my head).
Unfettered Faith 