Like one of favorite fellow WordPress blogs Fractured Faith, I too, have struggled with my relationship with God. I was not one of the fortunate children who were homeschooled, sheltered from the secular world. I was brought up in and of the world, complete with cable TV and a 40 year-old Dad who took his 17 year-old-wife to my prom.
There were basic morals, ethics, and the like, but as far as a relationship with Jesus – it lacked.
My parents were hardcore republican/conservative – at least that’s what was claimed when I was a child. There absolutely was a God, and I better believe in Him. I just never understood why, other than to fear Hell itself. The gift of the Spirit did not get bestowed upon me until much later in life.
Innately, I always understood and knew that there was a God, but I couldn’t relate to those who threw their hands up in awe, shedding tears of joy, swaying side to side with eyes closed while they sang songs of worship to God. A God whose number I couldn’t obtain. The entire thing eluded me, feeling like I was watching a foreign movie without subtitles. I couldn’t relate.
I didn’t even get a whisper from God, with the exception of the time I walked down that aisle to the alter at age 12 and fell to my knees.
Coming to the conclusion that it was a one-time only supernatural event, and that God either abandoned me thereafter or it turned out he missed something on my initial application and now I was denied access.
Somewhat confused and disappointed, I went on with my life thinking, “Well, I guess I’m saved from Hell now. Maybe..?”
As I grew older and had children of my own, I still had some work to do before being prepared to really understand God. Finally, He did begin to fill me with His spirit again, as He once had when I was 12. This time it was not the smack to the soul as it felt as a adolescent.
Truthfully, I only began attending church services again in my 30’s out of desperation. I felt a shift in my life, a hunger that would not be satiated, and a relentless torment of anxiety. This began the opening of my heart – when I started an in-depth study of His word. It was more than the reading a daily devotion. It was cross-references of putting the back of the Book to the front, and all that is in between.
Prior to me getting to know God in my 30’s, I thrived on being hard core. I got off on the image of being a cut-throat, take-nothing-from-nobody woman and mom. To embellish my facade, I learned to flawlessly juggle it all with one hand – while singing the alphabet backwards.
But like all good things, it gradually came to end. It wasn’t an abrupt awakening this time, but a gentle shaking of the shoulder – as you would awaken your sleeping child.
He allowed me to start putting the pieces together gradually, but with certainty. Unbeknownst to me, the timing was impeccable. (Isn’t His timing always such?)
All the while He began sifting the sleep from my eyes, my life was beginning to unthread behind the scenes.
Luckily, He’d shown me just prior to the unraveling, how to adorn the armor that would see me through my tragedies. And, if by happenstance I didn’t survive, I would still be okay.
It was so much more than knowing I’d be copacetic with life, but a knowledge that even if death arrived, I’d be copacetic with Him.
Until the Bible studies, I simply wasn’t ready. I had a journey to begin.. Only after that trek, did my eyes completely open. I had been flaky in so many aspects of my life. I frequently walked the line of holding on to my secular life, and succumbing to my faith.
It was hard to let that life go. Who was I alone in Christ? I just didn’t know if that would be enough.
Then the morning of October 1st came. It was D-Day – the confessing my emotional infidelities to my husband. I had tortured myself all that weekend with the ‘what ifs.’ I had anxiously wrung my hands together 50 million times.
Suddenly that small little voice said, “He that is in you is greater than he that is in the world.” And it finally clicked. GOD WAS WITH ME, ME. HE WAS WITH ME- the woman who cheated on her husband, had been addicted, and simply been a wretched, poor excuse of a person at times. It didn’t matter. He was still with me.
I felt He was telling me there was a reason behind why I had to tell my husband. I know, it sounds crazy, but it’s still true. I knew there was a reason, I just didn’t know why. Never did I imagine what would get unearthed.
So, I took a deep breath, and held tightly to my faith in Him. Whatever the reason for telling him about my sins now, it was clear it had to be done.
After the truth came out, began the unpredictable ride of emotions. There was no normal, and I was still okay.
Now that leads me to a current state of normalcy, slowly gliding into complacency. This is when I begin to hear the lies of the adversary loudly. He twists and turn truths into lies, and vice versa. I must hold steady and not bow out now.
So this is where I am, feeling somewhat lukewarm again, in my faith and marriage.
I’m trying to keep it in perspective, and not allow the cooler waters make me fear, becoming indifferent.
It happens. Inevitably the water will heat back up, only to cool once again.
If you find yourself in the middle try to heed advice from this Jimmy Eats World song,
“It just takes some time,
little girl you’re in the middle of the ride.
Everything, everything will be just fine.
Everything, everything will be all right.