Being Christian

God just seemed to make sense. Not that I thought the whole thing through, but I never really imagined things without him. I was raised going to church all of the time, and I assumed that everyone knew why we have rainbows, and the Jesus wore white robes, and that the flannel board versoin of the fruit of love is always an apple. I never had to think things through until sometime around junior high school.

The years of junior high were horrible. My family couldn't afford real Gotcha clothes or Converse high-tops, and everyone at school made sure that I knew how geeky I was. There was a small group of people that I hung out with, but sometimes they would be my friends, and sometimes they wouldn't. One of my best friends also went to church with me, but he didn't live life like he should. I remember this bieng the first time I started asking God questions, and bieng disappointed. Luckily I survived, and made it to high school.

High school was good. I had a whole new cast of friends, and no one tried to beat me up because of my clothes. My brother started Bible college, and he always counseled me. I knew that he knew God better than me, and I tried to follow his advice (like don't date girls, and never listen to secular music). I wanted to become a computer programmer and make little useless programs on Apple IIes. I thought that God and I were doing pretty good until a summer camp after my Freshman year.

It was a normal camp (as normal as they get). On the last evening, the camp directors followed the normal plan and invited everybody to come and get "baptized with the Holy Spirit." I had prayed for this tons of times, but I never really lost hope that I would get it. This time I went down to the steps of the platform and did the normal routine of having people put their hands on me and pray for me. This time, however, the guy praying for me told me to sing. I asked what I should sing, and he said anything. I have no idea what I sang, but the words changed and I started bavvling in something that I couldn't understand. I felt a wierd tingling sensation on my hands and face -- kind of like the tingling when your hand falls asleep, but this sensation didn't hurt. I felt very ... I think happy is the best word for it. I don't know how long I stayed at the steps, but by the time I felt like moving, most of the people had left the building. I remember walking out under a sky lit with stars and finding a small post to sit by and lean on. I looked up at the sky, and talked with God. I cried a lot that night. I remember understanding more about God, and realizing why my brother would always go on walkes and come back with moist eyes. I remember losing my desire to do anything with computers for my future, instead wanting to do something that had to do with God. I remember sitting in awe of God, staring at the sky and the silhouettes of the mountains and trees around me. That night everything seemed incredibly huge, and incredibly close.

From that time until now, I can look back and see how I have changed. I can also see how I have stayed the same. I remember trying hard to keep my prayer and Bible reading steady. I remember trying to feel God, and instead feeling alone. Sometimes I would break through the barrier of myself and catch a quick smell of God, but I would never really see or touch Him.

Now I am at Bible college, or at least something very close. Instead of learning the fail-safe way to meet God whenever I want to, I have learned that I likely won't really see God until I am dead. I have learned that I will always struggle with finding time for Him, and I will never feel adequate. I suppose I figured that this is how it would be, but I don't like it. God is the only one who knows me -- He is the only one who loves me. At least I have the promise to be with Him one day, but until then I will live this "abundant life" with a twinge of sorrow.

go back to Writings