So, my faith experience as a youth is one that I believe a fair number of people can relate to. Allow me the brevity of this journey as I equate it to the game of Bingo.
As a young Christian, my faith scorecard was laid out with the wonderful gifts of being part of a long-legacy Christian family and faith community. I placed many chips on my scorecard. I was baptized, I regularly attended “Sunday School” (I was not raised in the Adventist faith), I regularly fulfilled my youth church duties, and I declared giving my life to Jesus at 12 in front of the whole congregation.
I even had some extraordinary squares I could put a chip on … During five summers, I spent a week each aiding the underserved communities on the American West’s Indian reservations with my church youth group. These service ministries were my first recollection of feeling God’s presence, solidifying that he abounds even now and was not just a historical figure from the Bible.
I also put a chip on the square of experiencing the Holy Spirit during a near-fatal car accident at the age of 16. But that is a longer testimony for another time.
So many chips on my faith scorecard that I could have probably “won the game” thrice over … but I couldn’t even see one B-I-N-G-O.
Much of my very blessed childhood was spent being very bitter for all of the things the world said I didn’t have. While my family was never in want, I was markedly “poorer” than the majority of my school peers. When I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see the beauty of God’s creation but just a horribly gawky, frail little body. I was not class president, nor the varsity hero.
And I had plenty of affirmation from the world that I was not enough by its’ standards. To my hurting little self, I was in the shadows beyond God’s light and grace. I wondered why he would create such a pitiful, odd little creature to suffer.
But if there was one gift God gave me, it was a plucky spirit.
Let’s rewind a little to my near-fatal car accident as a teen. After spending my life until then loathing my existence in God’s creation, I vowed that I was not going to waste His gift of more time in a “pity party” any longer. I wasn’t going to let the have-nots weigh heavy on me anymore, and I was going to go out and live the full human experience. Do everything I didn’t do or was too afraid to do or thought I couldn’t do.
Sounds empowering, doesn’t it!
And it was. So empowering, I thought I could go it alone. After all, what “good” had it done me when I was a simple, humble little Christian girl. And not to mention growing up in time when news of the evils and abuse within faith communities was starting to flood the mainstream media, how could you, with good consciousness, follow these wolves in shepherds’ clothing. So, alone I went.
Well, the good, the bad, and, unfortunately, the ugly ensued.
I attended two universities in two countries and design school. I had interesting employment in which I gained a multitude of skills and experiences. I traveled the world, meeting people of all walks of life and seeing the vast diversity of the world God created. I found love. And I was blessed to become a mother. The good.
I participated in worldly fun, and self-satisfaction was the goal. The bad.
I “self-medicated” rather than turning to the true healer, Jesus Christ, for help when things in life got difficult, as it always does. I stopped praying. I stopped putting Jesus in the center of my focus. The ugly.
Two decades after celebrating God’s gift of time, I felt, once again, a pitiful creature left to suffer. Countless high and low points and I felt hollow, each next high point not finally providing satisfaction.
So, I wish I could say that I ran with arms wide open back to Jesus. Alas, it was more a slow shameful wade into the healing waters. And it started with a simple postcard advertisement.
My sons were approaching school age, and we received a postcard from a local Christian school. It reminded my husband and I that we really needed to evaluate our faith and surround our children with the love of Christ through a Christian community. We stepped back into the waters with the registration process.
That ordinary parental act of school registration was the push into regrowing our relationship with Jesus and set us on a trajectory to keep going forward into the pool.
Feeling the joy from the love and support of our new church school community led to our search for a new church home. Ready to shed our childhood church “baggage,” which I can only praise the Holy Spirit for, we happened by a local Adventist church.
Now, my husband was raised in the Adventist Church, but I was not. I had had little exposure to the Adventist community, and I struggled with the misinformation I had read about our denomination. But I wanted to honor my husband’s request to return to his roots. While we had intended to visit a few Adventist churches to find the right community fit for us, we found what we had been yearning for at the first stop. The church was going through the struggles of revolving pastors, but the church community remained strong and loyal through the trials. That kept us engaged until two new pastors arrived that profoundly impacted my journey.
They were loving and supportive as I transitioned into my new faith community and made me feel very comfortable and welcome through the process. This journey was also supported by many others in the church that were genuine and vulnerable with their walk with Christ. The conversations around Biblical truths and Christ’s love stimulated not just my heart but my intellect. My faith became living and not just a tepid historical lesson. I had found a group of Christians that held my hand and walked forward with me into full submersion in the waters with Christ.
While I wish I could look back with pride at all aspects of my life, I cannot. Who is to know, other than God Himself, the effect of the intricacies of every event He has woven in all of our stories, from a willingness to be open to a postcard ad to a church Google search. But I can now undoubtedly look at my faith scorecard filled with chips as an Adventist and shout a resounding BINGO!
Liz Kirkland is the RMC communication assistant. Email her at: [email protected]