Remember…

Remember?

Yeah. I do. I remember a lot of things about my life experience with God.

I remember Catholic mass when I was really little (my first memory of church of any kind). I was playing under the pews. Mom must have wanted to strangle me.

I remember the Christian church that Dad went to. My sister went to VBS, but for some reason I didn’t want to.

I remember growing up going to Catholic school. The stereotype of ruler-toting nuns is only partially true.

I remember serving as an altar boy during mid-week mass during school. I hated wearing the robes, and was scared to death I’d do something wrong.

I remember confession with the Catholic priest in grade school. Such an odd feeling of dread, but somehow an odd sense of peace afterward.

I remember not really thinking a whole lot about God during any of these experiences. What I do remember was that He seemed big… distant… impersonal.

And I remember thinking that the lives of most of the people I knew who went to church contradicted everything I was hearing and learning about God in school. I remember deciding at some point that God must not really be real.

I remember how scared I was that I’d hurt my family if I ever admitted that. (And knowing my family will probably read this, I’m a bit uneasy about it now too.)

I remember how I grew pretty hostile toward the idea of God in general, and how full of crap I thought Christians were. I remember how I believed that science explained everything, and that these people who believed in God must simply be delusional.

I remember when Nancy and I got engaged, and how shortly after she told me, “If we’re going to get married, we need to go to church.” I remember the dread I felt at that moment, and how I loved her so much that I was willing to do anything for her (still do, and still would!).

I remember one of our first Sundays at First Baptist of Battlefield, and how Pastor John Elder’s sermon seemed directed right at me. I remember looking around wondering how it was possible he knew everything I thought and felt about God?

I remember attending Sunday School for the first time there, and how people seemed to love me anyway despite the fact that I was pretty clueless about God and my Catholic background was so very foreign to them.

I remember the way in which my world was rocked as God was calling to me, pleading with me to soften my heart toward Him.

I remember how I prayed for the first time in years, asking Him that, if He was real, to show me that He was, and to help me reconcile all of my struggles with what “science had shown us” with what the Bible said.

I remember praying to accept Christ late one night, and how, despite that, I continued to struggle with faith. I didn’t practice well what I professed to believe, and still had nagging doubts.

And I remember that one day, it seemed as though God did something miraculous and I all nagging doubts about what I professed to believe simply disappeared.

I remember thinking how awesome my walk with Christ was going to be because of that, and how I would be able to do great things for God.

I remember how it HAS been awesome, but how so often I’m still such a big hypocrite… how I struggle with things I believe I shouldn’t, and how inadequate I feel to call myself a follower of Christ.

So I must remember God’s grace. And His mercy. And how He has sacrificed so much for me. And how He continually demonstrates His love for me.

And I remember how Christianity has NOTHING to do with what I can offer God, but what He so freely offers to me. Forgiveness from sin. A life full of meaning, one worth living. The ability to know Him personally. The promise of heaven. The chance to let Him use me to bring a bit of heaven to earth.

All through faith and trust in Jesus.

Oh yes. I remember. I most definitely remember.

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Afterword:

The basics of this? There’s a word or topic, and everyone that participates writes something about that word or topic. Find out more here. Today’s word, obviously, was “remember”.