I hope “Faithwalk” will be a category where readers can find spiritual inspiration and encouragement. But where do I start? There has to be a first post…
Why not introduce “Faithwalk” with a brief account of my walk with Jesus?
Only God knows how many prayers were lifted up for me before I was born, because I come from praying people. One multi-great grandfather was a Methodist circuit rider on the Tennessee frontier. A couple more forebearers were hellfire and brimstone Baptist preachers, sweatin’ and shoutin’ and calling sinners to repent. Mixed in with these colorful men of God in the family lines were many humble, faith-filled saints who clung to Jesus through good and terrible times, knew their Bibles, loved their neighbors, and diligently taught their children and grandchildren to love and to fear the Lord. There were a few others too fond of moonshine whiskey or too hardened by the world to think much of religion. The influence of each of them- for good or harm- played a part in my grandparents’ and parents’ upbringings, which played a part in mine.
My introduction to the God of the Bible was gentle and natural, as much a rhythm of life as eating and sleeping. We went to church. If the lights were on, we were at the meeting. It’s what we did. Week after week, I saw truth, trust, and leadership lived out in the lives of my parents, grandparents, and extended family. I knew the great hymns and gospel songs. I listened to the earnest prayers of humble people. I heard the wonderful stories of the Bible- of Adam and Abraham…how Moses led the children of Israel out of Egypt, and Samuel heard God calling in the night. I imagined David the shepherd, slingshot in hand, striding toward the Philistine giant, and I asked to hear again about the time God delivered Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego from the fiery furnace.
I loved best the stories of Jesus…how angels filled the sky to announce the promised Savior was born..how He healed the sick, raised the dead, fed thousands of hungry people with a boy’s lunch, walked on water…how He gathered children into His arms, turned over the moneychangers’ tables, rode triumphant into Jerusalem on a donkey.
As a small child, I was confused and disturbed by the cruel death Jesus suffered. Why would anyone kill someone so good and kind? Why would He let them? One day – I guess I was about five- I sat in church listening to someone sing “He could have called ten thousand angels to destroy the world and set Him free…He could have called ten thousand angels, but He chose to die for you and me.” I didn’t fully grasp the concept, but during the song, the idea dawned on me that Jesus wasn’t a hapless victim- He was a commander of angels and a hero. I still remember the experience and the glimmer of spiritual insight awakening. We can’t live on borrowed faith- it has to become my own- and in time, it did.
One February night when I was nine, I had been thinking. I knew I believed Jesus was telling the truth- that He is “the way, the truth, and the life.” I believed that He loved me and died for me- the blameless Holy One for the guilty offender. I believed He had risen from the dead and was coming back one day. I wanted to belong to Him. I asked my parents some questions- and with a child’s simple faith, prayed- in confession and turning- toward Jesus. I committed myself to Him. My own faith-walk began- simply, humbly, miraculously- with more trust than understanding.
As I matured, my faith did, too. I came to understand more about the kingdom of God and who Jesus is and what He did. In college, I drifted a little, but looking back, I recognize many times God’s hand of protection, guidance, or correction delivered me from my own foolishness and circumstances that could have ended in disaster. He placed people in my circles who encouraged me to think rightly and remain connected to the fellowship of believers and the teachings of the Bible. I emerged from these years of independence and academic inquiry with my faith intact, if a little dented, though somewhat smug and much too big for my britches. Jesus could fix that.
Ray and I got married. I was Southern Baptist to the core. Ray was raised Congregationalist in Connecticut- robes, liturgy, Bach on the pipe organ, and real wine at Communion! Culture clash! Our next door neighbors invited us to their Bible church, and we agreed to visit as a compromise.
A three word description of that fellowship: deep, vibrant, real. Our fifteen years as part of that “body” changed, matured, deepened, broadened my understanding of the written word and my relationship with the living Word of God. Then we moved to a different town, where we found a new fellowship and new ways to serve others and our God.
If I wrote about all the times I know God protected me from danger or a bad mistake- all the times God answered desperate prayer- all the times God guided me to the right place or the right people or the right decision- all the times God’s Spirit comforted, encouraged, or convicted me- I could fill page after page. Has life always been easy? Not by a long shot. Have I always done the right thing? Absolutely not. Has everything turned out like I expected? No. Has God always been faithful? Yes. Has He blessed me far more than I could ask or deserve? Yes. Has He made Himself known to me? Yes. I have felt His unmistakable presence and listened to His voice. I have experienced supernatural peace. I have reveled in unexplainable joy. I rest in the assurance that God is control – and He is good.
I have done nothing to deserve God’s mercy. On my own, I am hot-tempered, prideful, critical, and selfish. God, eternal and all-wise, perfect in love, goodness, and faithfulness, gave me life and knows me. Despite my faults and broken nature, He rescued me. He granted that I might draw near to Him, enjoy spiritual life through faith in Jesus Messiah- and be transformed.
There are two requests that I make of God for me: First, I want to “get it.” I want to understand more and more about the “God life” that He created, rescues, and invites us to enjoy. I want to live on His terms. Second, whatever happens, I pray that I will be faithful to my Savior- and live in trust, obedience, and hope until I see His face.
Until then, by His grace, in His love, I walk on.
You write beautifully Deb. I will look forward to following your blog.