February 23, 2011
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Ten: A Decade of God (Part I of II: God on My Heels)
This is a two-parter starting with a brief testimony and ending with a call. In the process of writing this, I struggled with my never-dying desire to preserve my anonymity and the ever-increasing reminder that my memories are not as accurate as they seem. Thanks to the promptings of the Spirit, the journals that were gathering dust in the corners of my bookshelves, and reliably kept archives of blogs and emails, I've been able to compile a more-accurate story of my coming-of-age into Christianity, and ten years later, a call to rise higher. Some of this has never been told. Some parts remain untold.
Part One of "Ten: A Decade of God"
or, God On My HeelsTen years ago. January. I am moved out of my parents' house in New York City, and in my last semester of my undergraduate studies in Brain and Cognitive Sciences at the University of Rochester. I am roughly four years into my separation from God, and having a ball. I rock my seminar classes, including one memorable one when I nail a presentation I give about brain development in the occipital cortex in children born blind.
I take History of Christianity partially because a friend took it and liked it, and secretly because I want to know Jesus. God is starting to call me back, and I am struggling to resist Him. In class, the Jewish professor critically breaks down the historicity and veracity of the Gospels. I was raised in a Christian home, and am intrigued by how much I didn’t know about basic Biblical doctrines. I argue with the only girl who tries to extend a hand to me to bring me back to Christianity. She eventually tires of me shooting her down. I get to know Jesus in spite of it all. A seed is planted.
I take a trip, where I visit a new state, meet new people, and literally have my life view changed forever. God plants another seed and waters it.
May. I throw my cap up in the air and don’t pick it up again.
I get my first job in Massachusetts, near Boston. The pay is literally laughable. (My parents laughed.) I get my first car (Beannie.)
July. My job begins. I have my first (rented) apartment. I find a housemate. She is an Orthodox Jew.
August. I go to church with the excuse of putting my parents at ease. Starting with Sabbath School, because in my mind, that’s how it’s supposed to be done. I and another first-time visitor are the only ones there along with the teacher. The three of us talk under a tree outside. I meet new people. I like them. I haven't cleaned up my language yet. Church is yet a duty to my parents that I check off my list.
September. I come home from an overnight shift at work, and try to nap. Unusually, I turn on the TV. On every channel, there is a picture of one of the twin towers smoldering, surrounded by thick waves of smoke. No one knows what's going on. I watch in shock, leaping to my feet, hand over my mouth, as a second plane crashes into the other tower. My mind can not process what's going on. Time is a blur between phone calls, jammed lines, tears, prayers, and the towers collapsing in a heap. I am thinking, Things will never be the same. This phrase is echoed by others on the streets of New York. For the next few months, every car has a tattered American flag waving on its antennae. I find out later that my parents were en route to the very place with a visitor, and thankfully never made it there, but saw everything from the bridge. To this day, I can't look at any tribute to the Towers for long.
November. God is moving fast. I start reading the Bible because I figure I need to be intellectual and “open minded” about the world I live in. I start from the back—in Jude, because Revelation was daunting—and move backwards. I am taking detailed notes on every chapter. Bible studies are happening on a local college campus. I am invited. I go, although I am nervous about driving and parking in the city. I am still ambivalent about being called any denomination, although "Christian" is a term I am starting to like. I have age-level friends at church now, something I've almost never had in my life. They start sharing pre-recorded sermons with me (on tape.) I am hooked, and ripe for the picking.
On a dark night’s drive home, God meets me and I am shaken. In tears, I tell Him I give up—and that I am His.
December. I am almost finished with reading and annotating the entire New Testament. Including Revelation. I am teaching Sabbath School. I give my first Children's Story. I give my first sermon. I am feeling a definite call to do something, although I don't know what that could even mean. I am navigating and parking like a pro in the Boston streets.
In a few months (June of the next year), I will be invited to a winter retreat called Emmaus. I will go. I will publicly confess my thanks to God commit my life back to Him in front of a midweek campfire. I will be in love with the prophets Elijah and Elisha.
There is no turning back now.
And here I am. Life has taken me from a mid-size school in Rochester, NY though 6 residences, 5 employers, 4 states, and over 110,000-miles-in-the-same-car later to a small Podunk town in Podunk, Virginia. I’ve loved every job I’ve ever had. My interest in the Bible has grown into an all-out love for God. He continues to reveal more of Himself to me and I am daily encouraged at His power that is as effective now as it ever has been.
The past ten years have been truly amazing. Through the ups and downs, I don’t regret a moment of it. I can’t. The cumulative experiences of those hours have made me who I am. And I’ll never forget that moment when God’s time intersected with mine and veered it in a course that altogether changed the very fiber of who I thought I was, and what I thought I was capable of doing.
(End Part One)
Click here for Part II.
